But then she turns to me and smiles, and it takes my breath away all over again. And when she joins her non-tattooed hand with mine, hope trembles inside me like a bird just beginning to stretch its wings. Even before she whispers, “I love you. I think I’ve always loved you.” And just like that, the bird takes flight. Still, I don’t throw myself at her feet and gush the way I’m desperate to—a man needs some dignity, after all. Instead, I smile and whisper, “I know,” right before I take her mouth with mine.
