I woke up in a pool of sweat. It was still the middle of the night, and Valerie's limbs were tangled around me, her soft, hot skin plastered to mine. With gentle, slow movements, I gradually slipped from under her and padded to the bathroom. After relieving myself, I slid back under the sheet, tempted to enjoy her body again, but she was sleeping so peacefully, I just lay staring in wonder at her by the light of the moon instead.
My heart ached when I looked at her perfect half-open mouth, and I enjoyed sharing every breath she exhaled in my direction. That was the moment I knew I'd die for her. I never wanted her to feel another day's hurt for as long as she lived. They say no one is perfect, but I'd argue that if God meant for just one person to be, he'd made that person Valerie.