“Now?” I ask, thinking back to those silly pages in that silly book. “Now I kick myself for not better assessing whether or not my grumpy boss was already in love with me.” “He was.” “Is.” “You’re such a grammar stickler.” I stand up on my tiptoes to touch my lips to his. “I like words, and I like when my words are correct.” “So I’ve been told.” “Puppy?” I exhale his nickname into another languid kiss. He nips at my lip before murmuring, “Yes, kitten?” “Loving you is correct.”
