George sighs he tries to figure out a way to talk to Angelina. They'd been doing well in their relationship until last night. Last night, George was drunk off his rocker and Angelina did not take well to that. Gently, he pushes the front door open and steps onto the porch where he finds Angelina with her back to him. Silently, he goes over to her.
"Angie?" he says.
"You know," she starts and there are tears in her voice. "You only tell me you love me when you're drunk."
George doesn't move a muscle. Previously, he had hoped that he could pretend that he didn't remember saying that and he had thought that Angelina wouldn't bring it up. How foolish of him to think such a thing.
He thinks about denying it, but then he sees the tears sliding down Angelina's face.
"Oh, love, don't cry," he begs her as he bends down in front of her to wipe away her tears. "Don't cry, Angie. You know I meant every word I said last night. Please, don't cry."
"I know that," she replies. "But the fact that you can only say it when you're drunk. . . .I can't do this, George."
"No, Angelina, please," he stops her. "Don't say that. I love you and you know it. I love you so much and that scares me. I'm sorry I didn't tell you before, but I couldn't find the right time or the courage. Please, love, don't get mad and don't leave."
Finally, she lets out a breath of air. "I won't leave, but tell me next time ok?"
"Alright."