[This post is from Marin’s point of view.]
Thom released her, leaning back against the mattress. He rested his hand against her spine and she could feel the weight of his gaze even as he settled in against their pillows. Marin glanced back and smiled faintly at him, running her hand down his arm for a second before she finished taking off her shoes.
“Have I ever told you how much I miss you?” he murmured, eyes half-lidding as he watched her tug off her sweatshirt.
“Miss me?” She smiled, stretching out alongside him in their bed, on her side so she could see his face. He smiled, reaching over to brush some of her hair out of her face. “I’m right here. You don’t have to miss me.”
“In some ways, when you’re not right with me, I do,” he said, fingertips brushing along her cheek and jaw. “When I thought—” he broke off, closing his eyes. Marin edged closer to him, reaching for his face with both hands.
“Thom,” she whispered.
He exhaled a shaky sigh. “I never, ever stopped loving you,” he whispered back. “And I never will. You know that, right?”
“Of course I know that.” She cradled his face between her palms. He was warm, but not enough to worry her too much. “I always have. That’s what made it all so hard, you know?”
“I’m so sorry,” he said, inching closer. “I’m so, so sorry.”
“It’s okay.” Marin leaned in, pressing a kiss to his forehead, then another to his lips. “It’s okay, Thom. Now what’s going on? What’s bothering you? I know something must be.”
He exhaled a shaky breath. “I just—I don’t know. It’s nothing that I can put my finger on. It’s just a feeling.”
“What kind of feeling?”
“Just—just the kind of feeling that makes me want to hold onto you and not let go,” he said, kissing her gently, their noses nearly touching when he drew back. “It’s probably nothing.”
“It’s usually not,” she said, stroking his face.
“I know,” he whispered, then closed his eyes.
Then he wrapped his arm around her and held her tightly, burying his face in her hair again.