Somehow they're beside the table suddenly and for several moments, pressed up against him like this, her eyes closed, Kate doesn't remember the food or the flowers or anything except him. He loves her and he keeps saying it like maybe he thinks she might forget between now and ten seconds ago and she kind of loves that, too. Sliding both her arms around him, she presses into his kisses happily, still grinning between them, unable to stop. "No," she manages to murmur, the fingers of one hand sliding through his hair as she pulls back just slightly, just enough to see him. "No, keep saying it. Say it all the time. Because I love you."

She thinks maybe it should be harder for her to say. It's been hard in the past, she's been reluctant and nervous, but this isn't hard at all. Maybe it's passing time or maybe it's him, but she finds she doesn't want anything else to compare it to. This is good, she thinks, she can stay here.

Then he pulls her right up against him and she can feel the breath catching in her throat as his mouth moves over her neck. "What about dinner?" she manages to ask, though, seriously, fuck dinner. She knows he put a lot of work into this, but she's pretty sure she'd be just as happy to eat leftovers a few hours from now and it's not like she's making any attempt to stop her own wandering hand, the one that's sliding down his back, fisting in his clothes to press herself harder against him.