I wondered if it was normal for me to feel so smitten as I watched him do silly little things, like yawn and scratch his belly as he got up and walked to the waterchamber, or tug his clothes out of the wardrobe to get dressed for the day, or tap his feet against the side of the window seat as he read a book. I didn’t care if it wasn’t normal to be so besotted. I cherished every single moment I had with him, even the moments when we were simply existing within each other’s space, not doing anything of note. Perhaps I cherished those moments the most.
