ALEC & SUSAN

I Love You Too

Waking up at ten in the morning is a luxury only the restaurant life affords, and today, the extra sleep matched my mood perfectly. With a noon shift looming, I had plenty of time to savor the newfound lightness in my chest. My heart is finally whole again; Susan and I found our way back to each other, and I've sworn to myself that I'll never let anyone dim her light again.

Last night's dinner was nothing short of electric. Between the soft clink of silverware and the low hum of the restaurant, I kept my hand on her knee under the table, a silent anchor connecting us. Later, the tension spilled over into a stolen, breathless moment in my office. I am utterly consumed by her, though she has no idea just how deep it goes. Every time she walks into a room, my heart skips a beat, and whenever we're together, it won't stop its frantic, happy fluttering.

The restaurant seemed to blur around us as I walked her out, the ambient noise fading into the sound of my own erratic heartbeat. Saying goodbye was a quiet heartbreak. As the taxi pulled away, it took a piece of me with it, leaving a hollow ache. I wanted nothing more than to wrap her in my arms and freeze, but I forced myself to stand still. I crave her warmth, the lingering taste of her kiss, yet I must navigate this with caution. I cannot let my needs scare her away; the last thing I want is to destroy the very thing I cherish.

The looming introduction of Susan to my family has me on edge, especially after the, shall we say, 'memorable' first encounter with my sister Shelby. But that's in the past. I know the next time will be better. Today, I get to see her after work, which is all that matters. I've realized that a day without seeing her beautiful face feels incomplete; her presence has become my peace.

Susan has drawn a firm line: my apartment is off limits. I completely understand her hesitation—I don't want a repeat of last time either—but that boundary makes finding true, uninterrupted time together agonizingly difficult. Right now, our only 'us' time consists of quick, stolen moments in my office. I've laid my heart on the line, telling her I love her, waiting for a reciprocation that hasn't come yet. But in her eyes, I see the unspoken truth—the raw, magnetic pull that tells me she feels it too. I know her heart is with mine, so I'm forcing myself to be patient, refusing to rush her, even though every part of me wants to bridge the gap.

I expected the usual morning routine, but her reply stopped me cold.

"I miss you too, looking forward to later," came her response.

My heart, usually steady, suddenly leaped in my chest, pounding with a frenzied, thrilling joy that I couldn't contain. A sudden, intoxicating warmth flooded my veins, turning my nervous energy into a soaring, euphoric feeling—it was as if my entire body was smiling.

I arrived at work determined to power through my paperwork, craving an evening with my girl. However, the restaurant quickly transformed into a buzzing hive of activity, and before I knew it, the dinner rush was in full swing. Glancing at the clock, I realized it was already 5:30 p.m. With her getting off at six, I knew I had to lock in and finish up, leaving myself just enough time to dash out the door at 5:45 p.m. to pick her up.

When she stepped out of the elevator, my 'cool' exterior was a total lie. Inside, I was a riot of adrenaline—the frantic, wide-eyed electricity of a kid walking through the gates of a theme park for the first time, all bright lights and racing pulses. Every nerve was a live wire, turning that brief moment into a celebration I couldn't quite contain.

I pulled her into an engulfing hug, losing myself in a passionate kiss right there in the lobby, oblivious to the rest of the world. As we pulled apart, I caught the doorman, Tony, looking on, but I merely offered a polite greeting on our way out. I brought her hand to my lips, pressing a warm kiss to the back of it, masking the anxiety of the serious conversation I needed to have. I aimed for a longer route to find the right words, yet I found myself back at the restaurant entrance, my courage evaporated. Maybe over dinner, I bargained with myself.

Walking in, I looked at Susan, "What are you in the mood to eat tonight? I asked," pulling her a little closer.

"We don't always have to go out to eat, you know, I hate seeing you spend all this money on me, especially when I know how hard you work. I'd really prefer you save," she suggested. "Just walk me to the train—I can have dinner at home."

I brushed her hand with mine, firm in my decision. "No, I need this time with you, and I enjoy spoiling you. Don't worry about my finances; I have plenty saved up." I smiled, trying to lighten the mood. "Remember, I've never had a girlfriend before, so I've never had a reason to spend money on anyone. It's only fitting that I spoil you."

We settled into the quiet corner table I had reserved for us, the ambiance setting the perfect stage for the evening. When our dinner arrived, a rich, inviting aroma preceded it—a clear sign that the chef had truly outdone themselves. It was absolutely divine; Susan was practically humming with delight, savoring her first bite as if it were a melody.

As the dinner conversation settled, I reached across the table, covering her hands with mine.

"There is something I need to ask you," I said softly, catching her off guard.

She looked at me, a playful smile masking her confusion. "Okay, ask away," she teased.

I'd like for you to meet my parents," I said, watching her closely.

Her smile vanished, replaced by wide-eyed surprise. Her lips parted, momentarily stealing her breath." P-parents?" she muttered, a note of disbelief in her voice. "Are you sure you're ready for that?" she questioned.

"I love you, and I am fully invested in where this is going," I murmured. My mom will absolutely adore you, I know it.

She hesitated for a moment, her voice barely a whisper. "Can I…can I have some time to think about it?" the uncertainty in the air.

I smiled softly, brushing a stray hair from her face, offering a reassuring squeeze of her hand. "Of course. But don't worry, my parents are incredibly down-to-earth—they'll make you feel like part of the family immediately."

"It's getting late; I should head out," she said, the words hanging heavy in the air as 8:00 p.m. ticked by.

"Let me walk you out," I offered, feeling the sudden shift in the room. The air grew thick with a brief, heavy awkwardness; I was desperate for more alone time with her, but I refused to overstep. Once outside, I hailed a cab, the yellow light cutting through the dim street. Before she could step inside, I pulled her close and kissed her—a kiss so deep and desperate that the hair on the back of my neck stood on end.

I poured every unspoken word and every ounce of longing into that moment. When we finally broke apart, I cupped her face in my hands, searched her eyes, and whispered, "I love you so much." The shock was electric.

When she whispered back,"I love you too,"

My heart hammered against my ribs so violently that I felt shivers racing through my very veins.

As the taillights of the cab flickered and faded into the distance, I stood frozen, my mind racing to process the four words she'd left behind. I pulled out my phone and dialed my mother, my voice barely a breath as I confessed,

"She told me she loves me."

On the other end, my mom's excitement was instantaneous; she was finally going to meet the girl who had captured her only son's heart.

"I can't wait to meet her," she beamed, her joy echoing my own disbelief.

I hurried back through the restaurant, slipping into my office and collapsing into my chair, still wearing a ridiculous, schoolboy grin. Then, reality hit me like a physical blow. She has no idea who I truly am, or the weight of the legacy I carry. How could I be so reckless, asking her to meet my parents before coming clean? Now I am standing on the edge of a precipice: A cold dread replaced my euphoria—will she be furious when she finds out? I completely overlooked that crucial detail when I asked her to meet my parents. Now, I'm stuck in a panic: do I confess everything beforehand, or just take her to the house and let the shock unfold on its own?