I was the first one to say “I love you.”
I couldn’t hold back any longer. Since the moment I’d met my now-husband in the flesh, the words had been thrumming in my thoughts so constantly, I was surprised they hadn’t manifested in 3-inch letters across my forehead.
It was too soon. This man was too lovely to be true. I should wait for him to say it.
But that night, half-awake under the covers, curled together as a single creature, basking in the afterglow of having met his longtime friends (who clearly adored him as much as I did), the words kicked so hard at the back of my teeth, they just came clattering out.
Then I held my breath and waited. Three words. Eight letters. My whole self at stake.