Chapter 23: Say It

Holt put his boots down on the floor, one at a time.

Then he crossed the room, knelt on the rug in front of me and took my face in both hands.

"I love you," he said.

His voice shook on it.

"I've loved you since the first walk, and I've been terrible at it. I'll be terrible at it again."

"Holt."

"I'm not finished. I'm going to ask first every time. I'm going to forget, and you're going to tell me."

"Okay."

"I want the six a.m. walks and the bad pie and your friend with the stockpot. I want to be the one who comes home at six, if you let me."

"And?"

"I just can't promise to be boring."

I was crying and laughing at once.

"I don't want boring," I said. "I love you. You loud, stubborn, silent idiot."

"I'm not loud."

"You were loud once."

"I'm going to be loud in about a minute," Holt said, "if you want me to be."

I took hold of his shirt with both fists and kissed him.

It wasn't careful.

His hands slid under my thighs, and he stood and lifted me and carried me into the half-built kitchen.

Bear watched us go by and put his head back down.

Holt set me on the new counter, the only one he'd finished, and the wood was cold under me.

"Your knee," he said.

"It's fine. Don't ask again."

"I'm supposed to ask."

"Ask something else."

He thought about it, with his hands on my hips.

"Can I take this off you?" he said, and touched the hem of my sweater.

"Yes."

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