Page 197 of The Marriage Bet
The words, spoken so plainly, make my throat close up. I know he loves me. He tells me all the time and shows it daily. I’m reminded of it every time I check the time on my custom watch, or see the wedding rings on my ring finger.
But sometimes it still takes my breath away.
I drape my arm around his shoulders and run my fingers through his hair. His eyelids lower in pleasure. “I love you,” Isay. “You’re the best thing that ever happened to me. The best person I’ve ever met.”
Rafe’s dimple flashes again. “If I had told you this is where you’d end up last summer…”
“I would have run,” I say.
“Yes, probably straight into the lake,” Rafe says. His hands tighten around my waist. “It’s a good thing I caught you.”
“I think you knew. First.”
“Mhm. But I was convinced I didn’t deserve you.” He brushes his lips over mine once. It’s become part of the way we talk, sometimes. The intermingling of touch and words. “I know what you’ll say.”
Because I’ve said it so many times.
That he does. That what happened in childhood wasn’t his fault. That he is allowed happiness and goodness in his life and he doesn’t have to earn it.
“Yes,” I say. “I’ve said it enough that you know it by heart. Do you believe it too?”
“Some days,” he says, and kisses me again. It’s a longer touch, familiar and warm like the sunshine. “I love you.”
My arms slide around his neck. “All of them,” I demand.
He stands up with me in his arms. I laugh and grip him tighter. “Je t’aime tellement,”he says, and walks towards the house. “Do you think June can be alone for a while?”
“Yes,” I say. The gardens are thoroughly fenced in. “But let’s stay on the first floor. The couch.”
“The couch,” he agrees, and walks through the French doors. He kisses my temple and my cheeks. I feel warm. From him, from the sun, from the knowledge that we have days ahead of us of no work and all play. Of tennis, and swimming, and love.
“Tiamo da morire,”he continues.“Ich liebe dich… I love you.”
