I suppose we don't truly talk anymore, do we? We haven't, for some time. There are moments, of course. I'll wake up on a lazy weekend day- one that I, for whatever reason, have elected not to spend at the office- and see you asleep beside me. You're beautiful- I've always thought so. Even in your moments of pain, I still couldn't help but be struck by your poise and grace. I suppose it comes naturally to you, much in the same way that words come so easily to me. That talent has gotten me far in life thus far, and it's one that- rightfully or not- I'm proud of.
You disarm that talent, though. You do know that, don't you? You're the only person with whom I've ever simply lost the ability to speak. Even my father, for all his intimidation- I could still always speak up against him. I paid for my brashness, of course, but that was so long ago now that it doesn't even matter.
You. I was speaking of you. I've never been able to quantify my feelings. Everything else in my life has a name, a meaning, and a way in which it is understood, used, or destroyed. But not you, not this, not us. It is still, after all this time, something completely foreign to me. I wonder that, in twenty years, I might still not know its source or meaning- or if that lack of knowledge would be bothersome.
I don't think it would. Certainly, I have enjoyed trying to piece together what it is about you that has kept me so enthralled. Is it the way your hair falls across your shoulders and to your bare back as you sleep? Or, perhaps, the way you cross your ankles beneath your chair as you work- demurely, some would think, but I know better. Perhaps it is simply the click of your heels as you walk beside me, putting you at the perfect height as I wrap my hand around your waist. The way you don't bat an eye when I tug you closer- as if my doing so was what you had been aiming for all along. Which, I suppose, is entirely likely.
I've fallen into your trap, you know. Perhaps not one deliberately set, but not one that I ever want to leave, either.
It has been months since I first took you to Greece. So much has happened since then. I'll not pretend that I wish events had unfolded differently, but they are as they are, and our lot now is to deal with them. I've been abysmally poor at doing so, and for that I can only ask your forgiveness. I am slowly coming to grips with the idea of what it truly means to be your partner- the good, and the bad. Don't mistake my words, please- the good so far outweighs the bad that the latter is scarcely worth mentioning. It is there now, however, and I think that we would each be doing the other a disservice if we did not acknowledge that. I'll not take all the blame onto myself, but certainly not place it with you, either. We have each done things in regretful ways. Despite this, however, I do believe that we can move on, and forward, together.
I love you, Kitty. I've never stopped, and- Merlin willing- I'll never be able to do so. You are, today and always, my perfect companion. So long as I have you at my side, I'll not blanch at anything the world might show me. I am stronger because of you, and I will use that strength to keep us together.