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Maybe Amanda would call it my overprotective caveman instincts.

But after everything we've been through?

I've learned not to ignore that feeling.

The last three weeks have been good.

No. Better than good.

They’ve been perfect.

Every day Amanda trusts me a little more.

Every day she smiles a little easier.

Every day she lets me love her a little deeper.

And Christ, I love this woman.

Not just because she's beautiful.

And yeah, she is—so fucking beautiful with her mane of fiery waves, her pale green eyes, and her peaches and cream complexion. Those bountiful curves that drive me wild. And her huge, wondrous heart.

Yeah, my girl’s a fucking knockout.

And it’s not just because she's talented.

Though she absolutely is.

It's the million little things.

The way she somehow burns water trying to make Jell-O but can make coq au vin like Julia Child herself.

The way she sings while folding laundry.

The way she steals my hoodies.

The way she kisses me goodbye even if she's only leaving the room for thirty seconds.

The way she laughs.

The way she cries at stupid commercials.

The way she makes me smile without even trying.

The way she looks at me like maybe I'm worth loving.

Amanda Perkins is perfection in my eyes.

And every day that passes, I become more certain.

She's it for me.

Forever.

Which is exactly why this quiet from our mystery stalker is driving me out of my fucking mind.

He’s been too quiet.