me”
I explained.
“That makes sense.” He sounded slightly mollified. “Tell me another favorite night.”
“Flying home from Italy.”
He frowned.
“Is that not one of yours?” I wondered.
“Noit
is one of mineactuallybut I’m surprised it’s on your list. Weren’t you under the ludicrous
impression I was just acting from a guilty conscienceand I was going to bolt as soon as the plane doors
opened?”
“Yes.” I smiled. “Butstillyou were there.”
He kissed my hair. “You love me more than I deserve.”
I laughed at the impossibility of that idea. “Next would be the night after Italy” I continued.
“Yesthat’s on the list. You were so funny.”
“Funny?” I objected.
“I had no idea your dreams were so vivid. It took me forever to convince you that you were awake.”
“I’m still not sure” I muttered. “You’ve always seemed more like a dream than reality. Tell me one of
yoursnow. Did I guess your first place?”
“No — that would be two nights agowhen you finally agreed to marry me.”
I made a face.
“That doesn’t make your list?”
I thought about the way he’d kissed methe concession I’d gainedand changed my mind. “Yes . . . it
does. But with reservations. I don’t understand why i,
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