“You’re in love”, she said, although with the element of surprise it was, almost, a question.

I couldn’t see his face since he was sitting next to me.  Although, looking at his profile, I could almost see the look in his eyes, the pursed mouth; the withering look he gave her that said that she shouldn’t have asked it.

‘You are, I can see, you’re in love’.  OK, so this was more of a statement.

She looked over at me.  I felt it necessary to help him out; to answer for him.  Some seconds had passed.  He hadn’t denied it.  If he had wanted to deny it then it would have been immediate.  My heart jumped a little at this understated, undeclared but obvious ‘truth’.  Yes, he was in love, even if he didn’t want to admit it.

‘No, he’s not’ I replied, smiling as I did so.  He added ‘We’re taking it slowly’.  It’s a slow, slow road to the admission, that’s for sure.  But I know the truth and so did she.  And so does he.

The only nights we are apart, now, are those that are inevitable or occasionally, when we feel it necessary in order to keep up the pretence of keeping it ‘slow’.  No, maybe that’s unfair.  I do understand that it’s difficult for him.  I think he would like it to be slow but it just ain’t really happening that way.

And, afterwards, I told him that I liked the fact that he hadn’t answered straight away.  And he kissed me and said nothing, since nothing needed to be said.