Viator

She slapped down a card.

He stepped around the counter and put an arm around her. Don’t worry. I’m over it.

—You say don’t worry, but…

He turned her to face him and said, I swear to God, I am over it. I love you.

Startled, she looked up at him and he kissed her on the mouth. She tasted of candy mints and coffee. Terry scowled at him, muttered something under his breath, went back to his magazine.

Hearing the words gave him a platform from which to say them more assuredly. I love you, he repeated. You’ve been taking care of me long enough.

He kissed her again, bearing her back against the counter, and felt his whole life rise up, heart to heart, with hers, in truth and in folly.

—Get a room, said Terry.