When the Heart Remembers
And not with that sharp, intimidating air he wore in business—he was more like a sad puppy, showing up outside my apartment all the time.
"I'm starving," he'd complain.
"Then go eat!" I'd shoot back.
"I'm exhausted."
"Then go to bed!"
"I missed you…"
And before I could come up with another retort, his kiss fell, sudden and overwhelming.
"Aurora," he whispered against my lips, "I really, really missed you."
My eyes burned, and before I knew it, I was holding him just as tightly as he held me.
On my birthday, Michael took me to Sorrowin Lake. Snow covered the frozen ground, and the whole world was quiet and shining. Right there, he went down on one knee.