It occurred to me at once that love gets everything it asks for
Like a young girl picking flowers in the lawn
She gets every kiss and tear
She gets every smile and fear
But still she never finds the last of them is gone

***

What it came down to is that she didn’t know how.

A month in, on a sunny Saturday, he’d shown up at her door, sunglassed eyes looking down at her, grin on his lips. He held up a cooler, shaking it lightly so she could hear the ice and the bottles. “Surprise,” he’d said. And he’d driven her to the beach because the week before she’d made some offhand comment about how she missed swimming in the ocean. So she felt that sting of saltwater at the back of her throat for the first time since she was fifteen with his arms sliding around her waist as a wave rolled over them. And she’d listened to the roar of the ocean coming from inside his ribcage and felt herself shaking with it all.

Later, half drunk on the beach, he’d told that spot behind her ear that he loved it and she could only laugh, her hands moving against his freckled shoulders.

They’d stayed until sunset with their backs against warm sand and when he sat up to watch the ocean swallow the sun, she reached a hand out to touch his back. He turned his head to smile at her in the dim evening light and before she could say anything, do anything, he bent his head down to press his warm mouth to her exposed stomach. She closed her eyes and felt it spread and spread.

But it kept spreading and spreading until her stomach twisted, not knowing what to do with it, where to put it, why it was there in the first place.

And then there was that rose colored early morning two and a half months in when he’d hovered over her, holding himself up with his forearms on either side of her as his body pressed lightly against hers. His hips locking in with hers, his fingers reaching out to toy with the ends of her hair, tickling her chin with them, the muscles in his arms working well oiled beneath his skin. She felt it rise up inside her, the warmth of his skin against hers, his smile so wide that his eyes disappeared into folds of skin and his teeth shone bright as they caught the sun.

She was suddenly saying, “I love you.” Her voice shaking and her fingertips just barely grazing his jaw.

His smile had faded and then returned as he ducked his head down just a little, his forehead against hers and then gone again. He’d laughed, “Why are you crying?” Kissed her jaw, her ear lobe, her eyelids.

She didn’t know how to tell him that she was still scared. After everything, she still felt undeserving somehow, she still felt overwhelmed. She was sure she would lose him and it terrified her, because she already knew what living without him was like and she couldn’t go back. So she’d shrugged, running her hands down his chest, smiled, “I don’t know. Just happy, I s’pose.”

“Me, too,” he said, his mouth finding hers.

Seven months in, his face was glowing red and green in their month old apartment lit only by their Christmas tree. One in the morning on Christmas day with his arm around her waist, his index finger lazing around her belly button under her shirt as she settled back against him on the couch. They had gotten home late from her parents’ house and she still felt warm from three glasses of wine and laughter. And she turned to look up at him, her forehead resting against his neck as she closed her eyes briefly.

She felt him say, “You wanna open one of your presents early?”

Her eyes opened and she beamed at him, “Okay.”

She sat up and waited for him to pick one from under the tree. Instead, he was fumbling in his pocket and her throat was already tightening and she reached out to grab onto his free forearm. He grinned at her, finally pulling that square box from his pocket. She squeezed his arm harder, her nails digging into his skin.

“What’s with the death grip?” He asked, eyes shining.

“Just ask me,” she said, shaking her head furiously.

And when he finally asked her with the timid voice of a little boy and the ring shimmering with reflected Christmas lights, she’d said yes, yes, yes, kissing him firmly. Because somehow he’d convinced her she was worth all that he gave her. There were touches and smiles and words murmured halfway to sleep and she was ready now. She’d made room for all those things that spread and rise. She knew how now and she wanted to give everything back to him.