Saint's house mate's mother is in town. For the next two days. Because of this, he has asked to spend those days with me that way Montana can sleep in his room and Montana's mom can sleep in Montana's room. Following?
Ok so this was four days ago.
On the third day, Saint asked if he could stay longer. He sounded very nervous like I was gonna say no. Honestly, how could I?
He stayed for eight days.
I loved every minute of it.
I loved that he fed my cats for me. Without asking. I love that I came home and he was there. I love going to bed together. I love waking up together. I love having a strong, man in my home. I love that he thought of dinner a few nights and I didn't have to even say anything. I love that his flip flops were on the floor by the door. I love that he walks in and gives me a kiss. I love that he wakes me up before he leaves for work and tells me goodbye. I love being comfortable AND having the one I love there.
It was bliss.
Seriously, I think we probably make other people sick because even when we fight it's lovingly. Shit, I'm gagging just a bit, writing this.
One day we were walking in and I kicked off my shoes under the dining room table. Which I do every time I walk in the door. I looked down and was shocked to see two other pairs of shoes there. "Hmm," I said, "I should take these in the bedroom and put them away." Saint says, "Why not wait til their are eight pairs?" What an ass. And I told him so. Even though I laughed.
My god, how did I ever live without this.
And just between you and me, I had a dream that he proposed. Ugh. Now what?
This is getting serious.