One day last fall, Handsome and I had gone to the suburbs to help his father dismantle some light fixtures before he and his mother moved to their house in the country.
As usual - at his father's bidding - we ate and drank too much at lunchtime. Unable to move, we declared we were taking a nap before finishing up the chores.
Comfortably spooning under the covers in his parents' bed, his arms around me, Handsome murmured into my ear,
"You know, I feel so good with you. I like you."
"You like me?" I retorted, "Is that all? You like your friends. You like steak. You like your mailman!"
"Oh, come on," he said, nudging me with his knee,"You know I love you. Now stop bugging me."