I told him.
No details, but I finally told him. Not in the elegantly-worded yet succinct arrangement of lettering I had hoped it would be, but matter-of-fact and rather concise instead... Still, it's out there now.
There was a slight sadness in him for a short time, from the way he shifted how he held me to his breathing, but all he could say is that he'd always be here. The intonation in those words was clear - he meant it. 2 months in, and this is where we're at... He talks of the future. Of our future.
Today, we both slept through his alarm (aka his phone, which to be fair was still in a clothes pocket). I realised there was sunlight in the room and therefore was much later than we both hoped. I glanced at the clock to find it was an hour and a half after he was aiming to leave the house.
The solution came in the form of working from home. My home. Interspersed with Netflix, food, cuddles and various exercises. Not bad for a Monday!
He'll be back on Friday, and in the meantime my world will fall back into it's humdrum routine. However, I am looking forward to catching up with my parents who will arrive home shortly after 2 weeks in France celebrating Dad's birthday.
