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I do a simple stir fry for dinner. It’s not much, but I hope she enjoys it.

It was good to see her reaction to this cottage.

I’ve done my best to keep it up to date while still keeping its history.

She was especially interested in my plant collection.

Nature is as important to me inside as well as outside, so I do have a few houseplants.

She, of course, scolded me, it seems some of these plants should not be as close to each other as I’ve set them.

She gave me a lecture on all of my plants’ major enemies.

I didn’t think a city girl like her would know anything about plants.

Wrong again. She quickly rearranged them–giving them enough space to make them forget about the ‘whole ordeal’ as she put it–making herself at home.

Which I certainly don’t mind. As far as I’m concerned, this is her home as much as it is mine.

It sounds delusional to just know. I think I’d laugh if someone ever told me love at first sight is real.

But I’d be wrong because I love this woman.

So much so that I’ve been avoiding the question that’s been nagging at me for the past hour.

Inviting her to the cottage, making dinner for her is much easier than to ask what’s next for us.

It’s not a question I’ve ever asked a woman.

The terms of my previous arrangements were always clear: have sex and move on.

But if there’s one thing I know is that I don’t want to move on from Bethany.

She’s the sunshine that’s missing from my life.

I bet the houseplants agree, their leaves seem to shift in her direction.

So percolating the question seems exactly the right move, letting my head stir and stir, mimicking my hand movement as I stir our food.

"Thank you for cooking."

"There's no need to thank me. I'm happy to."

She traces her fingers on my arms absently. It's good because I missed her touch. Ever since I started cooking, we haven't touched and I'm losing my mind over it.

"You like my tattoos, don't you? You keep touching them."

Her cheeks turn pink as she pulls her hand back. I grab it and set it down on my arm again.

"I don't mind. I like you touching me."

"I like to touch you too. Not just your tattoos."

She grins like it's normal for us to touch each other. Just not something that has happened today.

"What's the story?" She's just as addicted to tracing my tattoo as I am to her touch. "Behind it."

I wish there was one big story, one that would make her fall in love with me right now. But sometimes we do things that aren’t as deep as people think, just because they look impressive from where they’re standing. My tattoo doesn’t have some sad story or life-altering meaning behind it.

"There's not really a story. Is that boring?"

"Oh, certainly not! Why would you think it's boring?"

"I'm pretty sure you like big gestures and grandiose reasons to do things."

"I do, but that doesn't mean I don't find simple things interesting too."

"You must have seen my scars. I got most from working or playing around here.

I'm not a natural, in fact, I'd say I'm the opposite of a natural.

While I've always lived around nature I was never good at manual stuff.

But like everything, I've learned how to do them by being a stubborn bastard.

Every cut, every bruise, every wound taught me something.

One day I decided I'd love to have part of the mountains–the forest specifically–with me at all times.

Nature has been my true love all my life and it felt right to have it with me, to have the leaves, the branches with me.

And covering some of my scars is a bonus.

"You told me there would be no story, but there is!"

"Well, it's not that deep of a story, is it?"

"I disagree," she says with a smile. “Thank you for letting me.”

"Let's eat." I nod towards the kitchen table Bethany set up.

I've never bothered to cover it with a towel but she managed to find one, probably embroidered by my grandmother from the looks of it.

My grandpa always said she loved sunflowers and tried to include them everywhere when he spoke about her.

'Did you know she once embroidered one sunflower in my boxer briefs? I called her crazy! But then she made me wear them.’ he said once and I remember how much he laughed reminiscing on that time.

I decide to share it with Bethany. It's strange how much I want to share that with her.

"Oh really? She must have been so fun! I'd love to have met her."

"Me too. I did, but I don't really remember, I was too young."

"I'm sorry, Marcus. Thank you for sharing that with me. I bet she'd be proud of you for keeping this house so spotless."

"Thank you."

"You never thought of starting your own family?" she asks as we finish up our plates. We must have been hungry; while we’re eating we didn't even utter a word.

"There are not a lot of opportunities when you spend most of your time on your property. And especially when you're someone like me."

"What do you mean?"

"Someone who doesn't know how to speak to people."

"I've been speaking with you perfectly fine."

"As I said before, you're special."

"So you'd like to start your own family, then?"

"Yes. But it's not something I work for. I really don't want to meet new people so it's easier to stay as I am. I'm fine being a single man all my life."

It’s the second lie I’ve told her. Being happy as a single man all my life would’ve been true if someone had asked me two days ago, but now?

I’ll only ever be fine if I get to spend my life with her.

Or at least near her. Close enough that she can keep brushing her leg against mine. That’d be enough.

"I want to have a big family! I'd love to have at least two kids. Working with kids is hard so I imagine how hard parenting can be, but I can't seem to let that deter me from this dream. So I'll probably be that person who is surrounded by kids both at home and at work.

"That sounds nice."

"It does, doesn't it?"

I imagine what our kids would look like. Their mother looking beautiful holding their hands. A familiar pang in my chest reappears with the thought.

I've spent these past few years shoving this dream in the darkest corners of my soul and one conversation with Bethany is enough to send them to the light.

She really is sunshine. And sunshine this bright will surely get me sunburnt.

So I decide it's time to get into the shadow by asking the question I've been holding close to my chest.

"Are you leaving?"

She jumps, turns her face and there's a hint of hurt in them.

"Do you want me to?"

"No. But I figured the bet is off now that you understand how dangerous it'd be for the kids to have access to the lake."

"The bet is off? No way!" She sounds outraged that I'd even consider it. "I'm going to sleep outside in that tent and prove to you I can do it. Unless you want me to leave."

"No." It comes out rough, so I try to articulate what comes next better. "I don't want you to leave. But you don't have to sleep outside. You can sleep here."

She widens her eyes.

"I don't mean it like that, we can sleep in separate bedrooms."

A laugh erupts out of her. "I know! Relax!

Besides, I wouldn't mind." She winks and I swear it takes everything in me not to get off the chair and bring her to my bedroom.

I settle for a kiss instead, I languish in it, savoring her, loving her for staying.

Even if it's just one extra night. It's good enough for now and our kiss deepens slowly, her in my lap, my hands on her ass. I truly love this woman.

She stops suddenly. "Hey hey! Don't try to get me to back down on my bet."

"What do you want if you win the bet?" I ask, wanting her to make me responsible for her happiness.

"I think you know exactly what I want." She giggles in my ear and it's the only sound I want to hear for the rest of my life.