The Heart Of The Matter
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He was sprawled naked on the bed, his muscular upper body propped up nonchalantly on one elbow. He was watching, with feigned casualness, as she opened his latest gift, a set of gaily painted Russian nesting dolls that he'd picked up while on a case in St. Petersburg.
"I got them for you, because you're so good at puzzles," he told her, his free hand gently brushing a stray strand of hair off of her face as he watched her open one matrushka doll after another, working determinedly to get the smallest one open.
"I saw them, and I just knew that I had to get them for my feisty little Ninja, who never gives up until she gets to the heart of the matter," he quietly said, awaiting her response.
She looked up in surprise as she got to the inside of the last one, where, instead of another doll, she found the perfectly-sized ring. And, for the first time since she'd thanked him when he'd handed them to her, she spoke, a single word.
"Yes."