It must have been almost 4 am when I got to his apartment. It had been a long night at work. I opened the sliding door as quietly as I could. The lights were off. I knew he was probably already asleep.
I crept into his bedroom, and there he was, all sprawled out on the bed diagonally, in his underwear, with the covers spread awkwardly across him. I couldn't help but smile. He looks like a little boy when he sleeps.
I got undressed and crawled into bed next to him. He barely stirred. I leaned over and whispered his name. He didn't move. So I kissed his cheek and rolled over to go to sleep. I was still smiling.
About a half hour later, he woke up. Confused and disoriented as people do when they're woken from a deep sleep.
"What's wrong?" I asked him, concern coloring my voice.
"My head is killing me." He said.
"Do you want some Advil?? I have some in my purse."
"Do you have any water?"
"Yes. There's some right here." I gestured to the night stand as I dug through my purse for my travel pack of Advil.
After he took the pills, he laid back down, face up, staring at the ceiling.
Poor baby, I thought.
I rolled onto my side to face him and began running my fingers through his hair. He sighed and closed his eyes.
I continued to rub his head for almost 15 minutes, lightly tugging his hair, just the way he likes. Finally his breathing evened out; deep and calm.
But I kept running my ringers through his hair, gazing at him and thinking...
I thought he was asleep, but I guess he was still half awake because then he said,
"Why do you do it?"
His voice was barely a whisper, and heavy with sleep.
"Because I love you."
It was the first time I'd said it to him.
He rolled over and wrapped me in his embrace, so tight and warm. And I fell asleep feeling like nothing could ever go wrong again.