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“Can we take a picture by the glass?” she unexpectedly questions, stopping me midmotion from putting on my hoodie. “I really wanna remember this adventure.”
There’s no hesitation in my response. “No.”
“But we don’t have any together.”
“We don’t need any together.”
“I don’t like you always deciding what we do and do not need, Wes.”
This time there is reluctance to respond.
Because she’s right.
I have a strict way I prefer to do things.
To have things done.
It didn’t seem like such an issue until she strutted into my life refusing to do anything without some sort of negotiation or collaboration.
“Maybe we don’t need one together, Wes, but I want one.” Her fingertips lightly link with mine. “I want one to look at when you’re not around. When I miss you.” She gently tugs me forward, leading me towards the space I had her pressed against the glass just hours ago. “One to pop up on my text from you when I get a new job where you can’t hover in the other room.”
“I don’t hover,” is quietly murmured.
“I want a picture of me with the man I love.” Her bold statement is accompanied by a challenging stare. “So, are we taking one or what?”
Love.
She loves me.
And she said it.
Just.
Said.
It.
We didn’t discuss it or theorize about it or even consider the idea of maybe one of us is moving too fast for the other.
No.
She simply spoke her peace.
Did what it is I admire about her and spoke her truth.
Declared it.
Unapologetically.
Everything she does is so beautifully blatant.
“Okay,” slips past my lips in the same muted tone as the previous statement. “Just one.”
Bryn steals an excited bite of her bottom lip, pulls out the device, and arranges it in selfie mode. Seeing my own reflection fills my stomach with dread and disgust instantly, yet the second her lips press to my cheek, I helplessly grin.
Lean into the love.
Her.
