... ... ... UNBOSOM ... ... ...
Why a strong man, holding someone tiny, is such an astronomically overwhelming scene? Filling your heart with the warmth beyond reckoning to spread and rouse every cell of your soul and body...
Both easing on the floor in not her but their living-room for a month already, she watched him playing endearingly with a little furry creature to become Eva's friend and charge, meanwhile herself ecstatically exploding with love. Or adoration?
When acknowledging to herself, to the others or even straight to him that she was in love appeared satisfyingly simple, but saying likewise in firm exact three words instead of those four was a bit confusingly different...
But is it so? Can she voice it that way - that she loves him?
Well, she didn't doubt the feeling which comprehensively stood out against one in her younger days. Sometimes it seemed to her she'd loved him long before she met him... Weird and impossible? But how else to explain their instant and up to extrasensory connection? It's like electricity always there but invisible, until you switch the light on or plug a device in. It's not on the surface. It's abysmal and eternal. And so, any words would be slim and hollow.
But people do need words. To name and summarize. To sustain and underline. Yet, the verbal declaration of love often ranges uncomplimentary from overestimating to platitude.
And nonetheless, she needed words too... hugely and finally... to express her inwardness short and clear.
He'd made his own confession to her somewhat two month after their first kiss. Neither surprised, nor scared an inch, both, but rather drowning in serene and fascination, yet, instead of answering him the same, she wanted no space, no boundaries between them as confidently she asked him to move in with her. And he executed on that contentedly without delay. Unforced but natural. Always and everything so with each other.
Still, another month since then, since they eagerly joined their belongings, but she demurely held her avowal back. Even when one night after talking to Laura about that outrageous invasion in their lovely gathering with kids, he returned somewhat thrilled, affectionately pressed her against the wall and softly asked, "Would you... marry me... one day?" And she hesitated nowhere near to respond surely and pacified, "I would..."
In very deed, agreed and asked not once. Even post formalized facto. Saying that over again each time, appreciating the beatitude of the realness, to immortalize the correctness of the committed act and the devotion behind that.
But does love itself crave verbalization? No, that's only a whim of human's mind and ego. Love is obvious in its disembodied spirit. And in the eyes of its blessed possessor. The rest just to please but not to prove. Well, giving delight to him in all possible forms is what she sinfully did love to do.
Thus, from sitting across, merely enjoying the view and enduring no more the distance between, as well as her concealment of the inmost emotions, she crawled up his legs to straddle the man, with that separating him from the small animal guested in their interior.
"I want your attention, Antonio Dawson," she purred, her hands came to caress his neck and then to fondle his face.
"I'm entirely yours," gently and profoundly he declared to her definite knowing, and for a fluffy beastie also to be aware but not taking offense as it walked now away from them.
Easy, round and unconditional his statement was. So hers would be.
Mesmerizing and pretasting the moment, looking deep into his cherished soul, she made the sweetest silence linger. For blatant teasing. Along with gathering all her wit and sensibility to put those precisely in another, besides "marry me", genuine and never to be a trivial for them phrase.
"I love you."