“Slowly, I turned around, to where the soup was now boiling, and ladled it into a bowl.

He watched every step I took to the table, the steaming bowl in my hands.

I stopped before him, staring down.

And I said, 'You love me?'

Rhys nodded.

And I wondered if love was too weak a word for what he felt, what he'd done for me. For what I felt for him.

I set the bowl down before him. 'Then eat.”