Those Three Words (Continued)

I sort of think it’s funny to write “To Be Continued” posts when the outcome is obvious either way.  In fact, I’ve sort of tossed around a long-term (maybe stretched out over a few months) dramatic re-telling of how Poor Kyle and I came to be “Poor Kyle and I,” but I worry about two things: 1) it might be too much (read: exactly) like Pioneer Woman’s successful saga, Black Heels to Tractor Wheels, and nobody likes a copy cat, and 2) everybody knows how the story ends.  Would there be any interest?  I doubt it.

Therefore, I’m keeping the suspense low today, and finishing up what I started yesterday.  You can read it here if you missed it and/or are so inclined…

Those Three Words (Continued)

“Kyle,” I asked, “did you know…that…I think I love you?

He looked at me, totally shocked, like he couldn’t believe I would choose then, there, that very minute, to profess my love for him.  He didn’t say a word.  My heart started beating hard, harder than before, when I was trying to work up my courage to tell him in the first place.  I started to blush—this was getting awkward…

…He kept looking at me, and kept looking, until I thought I was going to die from his silent stare.

Finally, his face broke into a huge grin.

“Thank you.”

Photo of Journal Entry

“Thank you???” I thought in dismay. “I bear my heart to you, and all you can say is ‘Thank You?'”  But I considered it for a moment, and decided I deserved that—I hadn’t exactly made it easy on him up to this point.

“You’re welcome,” I replied, for lack of anything better to answer.

He didn’t say anything else, but leaned over and gave me a long, sweet kiss.  Then I decided if he didn’t want to tell me he loved me, too (punk!), I’d answer his question from before.

“Anywhere’s fine,” I said casually.

“Huh?”  Obviously, he’d forgotten his question, which was a small comfort in the face of what felt like rejection.  I mean, I knew he loved me, but I would have liked the reassurance of actually hearing the words!

I explained my random reply to his long-forgotten question (had it really only been minutes since I told him I loved him?), and we decided it was time for me to get home.  We drove away toward my house so he could drop me off.

A few minutes later, after driving in relative silence, we pulled to a stoplight and he said, “Well, you should know that I love you.  And I would have told you a lot sooner, but I didn’t think you wanted to hear it.”

“Really?  How much sooner?”  (Because I can never just accept facts as they, are—I must always dig for details.)

Oh, we talked all night about my theories and notions, and his theories and notions.  He said so many lovely things.

…I feel like we’ve come so far…  I’ve changed.  And I think my future might be here in Canada.

About Camille

I'm Camille. I have a butt-chin. I live in Canada. I was born in Arizona. I like Diet Dr. Pepper. Hello. You can find me on Twitter @archiveslives, Facebook at facebook.com/archivesofourlives, instagram at ArchivesLives, and elsewhere.
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