“Tomorrow,” he says when he grabs my hand and we walk into his bedroom, “you can take the SUV to work, and I’ll take the car.” He walks over to what is now his side of the bed and pulls the covers back. “Get into bed, sweetheart.” He smirks at me. “Gotta get back in the zone.” I shake my head and go to the bed, and in fifteen minutes, my top is off, and we are lost in each other. We kiss until we are breathless, and I fall asleep again in his arms.

The morning routine feels like we’ve been doing this since the beginning, except when he slips out of bed at four to go work out and then comes back to shower and wakes me with kisses.

Nighttime comes with me usually getting there before them and starting to cook, which I love. Then sitting down and telling each other about our days. It may be just a little thing, but it’s everything.

After I clean up, we end up in the pool where we stay way later than we should. We create our own get to know you game, each one of us asking the other one what do you love more.

On Wednesday, I walk into work with a smile on my face that doesn’t leave me the whole day, and when Cheryl comes in, she comments on how happy I look. “You’ve got that look,” she says right before she walks out the door, and over her shoulder, she finishes her sentence. “The look of love. Have a great night.” She waves her fingers in the air, and I sit here at my desk stunned. I just watch the door that she walked out of, and I’m not sure I heard her right. I can’t have the look of love. I get up from my desk and go into the bathroom and look at myself in the mirror. The circles under my eyes are almost not there, my nose is a bit red from the sun because we’ve been in the pool since Sunday. Little tiny freckles are coming out on my cheeks. My hair is shiny, and it’s also curled a little. I’m wearing a new blush pink T-shirt with white jeans and brown sandals. I touch my cheek, and I don’t feel any different, but it’s there, it’s in my eyes. I put my hand to my stomach, and I suddenly feel sick.

“Am I in love?” I ask the mirror, and I don’t know why I’m surprised when it doesn’t answer me back. I knew I liked him; well, I knew I liked him a lot. I walk out of the bathroom and grab my purse to leave, and that night, he just looks at me, and when Dylan goes to bed, he stands in front of the bed.