Love strikes you at funny times.
For me, a week after DD first said it to me - giving me due palpitations and sweaty palms - I found myself sharing a low-key Saturday evening with him. We watched "The Voice", did our laundry, I made dinner, and we went for a walk with my son. After hanging out while my son took a bath, he sat on the bed with us while we read a bed time story.
It felt like a life. No pretense. No fluffy stuff and nothing terribly exciting. It was when I walked into my bedroom after putting my son down for the night to find him passed out in my bed, curled up in his underwear on what has become his side of the bed that this crazy thought came past me that I wanted him to be on that side of my bed all the time. As I changed out of the skimpy sundress that I had envision him untying the straps to earlier in the day in favor of a tank top and boxer shorts and climbing into bed with him, I leaned over and kissed him on the forehead. He stirred, blinked his eyes open and then closed.
"I passed out," he astutely announced.
I smiled. "I think I love you."
Without opening his eyes, he just smiled.
"I knew you'd say it."
I rolled my eyes, grinning like the fool in sudden love that I was, and grabbed my Nook. I wasn't tired, but my sexy times were thwarted by the l-word and my boyfriend's exhaustion. I read into the night while he slept beside me. It felt good. Easy. Right. All those things that you're supposed to feel. For once, I didn't freak out. I just enjoyed it.
There's always tomorrow to start freaking out.
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