Good

I traced the letters across her back, spelling her name in curves and loops and lines. Jennifer. The nape of her neck, her little shoulder, the softness of her bare breast, as we lay wrapped in my bedroom sheets. Eyes still shut, I reached around and pulled her close. She leaned back against me, then, and I felt her stomach flutter as she laughed at one of Johnny Carson's jokes.

She turned and kissed my cheek. "I love you," she said.

I lost myself somewhere in her long, red hair. She smelled like rosemary.

"Is it too soon to say that?" I could hear the worry in her voice.

"Probably," I said. "You've never seen me without makeup."

"Come on, I'm serious!"

"You'd run," I warned her.

I felt the nudge of a pointy elbow and opened my eyes. Johnny pressed another sealed envelope to his forehead.

"No, it isn't," I promised and kissed her back. It wasn't too soon at all.

She leaned against me again and said, "Good."