Each Valentine's Day with Wally (when he remembered) was everything a young woman like Artemis could hope for.
He took her out to fancy restaurants, bought her pretty jewelry, fed her chocolates and petite cakes from gourmet bakeries, and even rubbed out her feet while they watched one of her favorite movies.
But the one Valentine's evening that would never escape her memory, never be outplaced within her heart, was their second. It was the night she and Wally hid in his bedroom at the cave, exploring each other in ways they had not before. The kisses were soft and gentle, the traces along flesh slow and trembling. Their bodies moved together like a current, each touch rippling out and igniting churning, burning sensations further, further, further until they crashed into the sheets beneath them, a pile of sweat and skin and hair huddling close in the afterglow.
It was the night Wally whispered he loved her into her ear before he drifted off to sleep, his arms cradling her waist and his legs interlaced with hers. And it was the night she said it back over and over again into his calloused fingers, succumbing to sleep only when she couldn't keep her eyes open anymore.