Timothy finally spoke as I was still debating what else I’d miss in heaven. (Definitely coffee. How could I have left coffee out of my angelic desires?)
Timothy cleared his voice, grabbing my attention away from my musings. “I can’t shower when your face is showing such demonstrative appreciation for those strawberries,” he declared, giving me a toothy smile. “I need to mentally record the images and replay them later when you’re off at work.”
He was laughing slightly, but in a serious a way. The mouth showed one thing. The eyes, dark with those golden highlights that gleamed like backlit jewels, indicated the depths of his thoughts . . . and his amusement.
A thrill buzzed through me at his words, yet I felt slightly choked in disbelief. Timothy wanted to record a finger-licking, lion-maned and free of make-up memory of me? That was utterly ghastly. I was probably at my worst at the moment, stuffing my face. Geeze, I might even have chocolate smears across my cheeks and mouth.
Timothy chuckled. “Even your thoughts are more delicious than anything on that table. But, I need to clear a couple of things up before I head for the shower. I very much want you to marry me, Penelope. I want that so much I was willing to accept your uncertain agreement, but the expression of your eyes and thoughts didn’t show love. It displayed pity for my plight. I won’t accept that. You have to feel the depth of love inside you. You have to desire me as your husband as much as I desire you as my wife. Not just carnally, but with every breath you take.”
It was the most romantic speech I’d ever heard. No soap opera lead character and no moving, tear-staining, tissue-wetting hero on a tv movie had ever said anything quite so emotionally wonderful. I wiped a tear, then turned to argue about the pity side of it, but Timothy had already retreated. I heard the shower water start up and realized I’d have to wait a bit to tell him that I did love him. Truly.
In the meantime, the drama of the moment was kept from churning my insides into the lemon juice of worry by grabbing another bite of strawberry and chocolate. A piece of cheese was next, then a juicy red apple. By the time I’d finished that, my hunger had dived down into my stomach, happily satisfied.