“Clearly.”
He stood up, walked into the kitchen, and returned a moment later carrying a small plate.
On it sat two slightly uneven chocolate-chip cookies.
I stared at them.
“Did you bake these?”
He nodded proudly.
“I followed the recipe.”
I picked one up, examined it, and took a bite.
It was a little too dark around the edges.
I chewed thoughtfully.
“Well?”
He leaned forward.
“Be honest.”
I swallowed.
“Darling, I love you. But if you ever make these for another woman, she can have you.”
He burst out laughing.
Then he kissed me, and I kissed him back.
Seventeen years had taught me that love isn’t always grand declarations or expensive gifts.
Sometimes it’s a man bringing home a scarf he didn’t ask for because he knows his wife deserves the truth.
Sometimes it’s a difficult conversation instead of a convenient lie.
Sometimes it’s choosing to stand beside your spouse when somebody else tries to turn your marriage into entertainment.
