I walk down the stairs with the washing. You finish your conference call and look up, instantly cringing at me washing your clothes. I’ve never worked out why you don’t like me doing your washing, but you have no choice, so the cringing remains. Silently, I chuck your cycling Lycras at you.
“But I’m hungry. I’ll go tomorrow”, you grumble.
“No excuses! Eat afterwards. You’ll be in big trouble of you don’t go”, I chide. Your eyes light up and a grin spreads across your face. “Really?”
I roll my eyes, but smile in delight. “OK, you won’t be in trouble later if you don’t go!” I’m still slightly unbelieving that a man finds me this attractive; that I barely do anything, and sometimes nothing, to get this sort of reaction from you.
You pretend to hide an air punch, strip off where you stand and don the Lycras whilst I load the washing machine. I stand up, jumping slightly at finding you suddenly standing so close. Then I am in your arms and, as usual, there is nothing in the world apart from you and I.
“God, I love you”, you remind me, big smile on your face. We kiss, still kind of smiling, and I run my fingers through your beard. I know what your are thinking though, and the Lycras and your close proximity make it easy to confirm my suspicions. I pull away, laughing, turn you around and half push, half guide you to the kitchen door.
“Get on with you!”, I say with mock anger. You clear your throat, eyebrows raised.
“I love you too, SM, now get on your bike!”. I can’t help but beam like a Cheshire cat. The happiness, joy and love on your face is etched in my memory forever.