We’re lying on the couch, the sun going down outside, with Maya curled beneath our feet.

“Why do you watch this asinine show again?” Pax is snuggled into me, my body being the big spoon.

“Because I love love. And it’s mindless drama and sometimes a girl just needs her guilty pleasure. Now shush or you can’t stay here and watch.” I turn my attention back to the TV, watching as twenty-five women vie for one man’s attention.

“But your boobs make nice pillows.” The large man eclipsing my couch snuggles even harder, making me giggle.

If someone were watching right now, they’d laugh at how big of a baby this macho football player actually was.

This is how we’ve spent the last month. Paxton all but moved in with me, taking Maya out on a morning run right after I pull out of the driveway, them trying to race me to the end of the street before my car turns left toward the city. I cook us dinner and sit with the wives at Sunday games. He makes the right side of the bed, at my insistence, and I have learned not to leave the toothpaste on the counter because it drives him nuts.

I’m not sure when we fell into this routine, this suburban fairy tale … but I am in heaven. Freaking love it. I haven’t told him that; I’m so scared to use the L word that I practically jump out of my skin every time I think it.

Over the past month, we’ve blended our lives … and somehow made them even better. We’ve given us the chance to be a team, a real shot at a relationship, and damn, we’ve all but knocked it out of the park.

The guy on TV asks one of the girls about past relationships and sets off a lightbulb in my brain. They’re talking about exes, and you can tell that the guy is doing nothing but checking out her boobs while she prattles on about a five-year relationship she just got out of before coming on the show.

Red alert, buddy.

I turn to Pax, sometimes hating the cheesy drama of this show. “So, you know about my history while we were apart. Broken engagement and all that. How about you? You can’t tell me that there weren’t any ladies in your life.”

When we were … whatever we were in college, I used to torture myself. Stalk his Facebook page to see who he was hanging out with, and if any girls tagged him in a picture. I can’t help but do it now, wondering if he had any serious relationships in the time I didn’t know him.

Pax ruffles my hair, snuggling in closer. “Oh no, we’re not going there.”

“What?” I laugh. “I’m not going to judge you. I don’t care.”

I so cared.

“Oh, yes, you do care. And it doesn’t matter anyway, all of that is in the past. Only forward, remember?”

I rub up against him in a catlike manner, trying to sex information out of him. “Oh, I know. But really, there was no one special?”

Pax sighs, combing his fingers through the ends of my hair. It’s distracting and feels good, and he knows what he’s doing.

“It doesn’t matter if there were a hundred women in my past. I’ve only ever been in love with one. You. I love you. I’m in love with you.” Pax says it so matter of factly, as if we’re still talking in jest, bantering back and forth.

I’m stunned, my fingers pausing mid stroke of his arm. “I’ve waited a long time to hear you say that.”

He looks up, his baby blues furthering my paralysis. “And I’m sorry it’s taken me so long. I guess you were just lightyears ahead of me in maturity. No, I know you are.”

I remove my arms from around him, readjusting so that we can look at each other, face to face. “Yes, I am. Which is why I can admit that I’ve been in love with you for ten years. Even when you didn’t love me back, even when we didn’t know each other at all anymore. I can admit that without embarrassment, because they were and are my true feelings. It took a lot to get to this place, but … I’m in love with you, Pax. And I’m not scared of it anymore.”

He held my face in the palm of his hands. “You don’t have to be scared. I’m not going anywhere. I love you.”

One of the women on the show interrupts us, giving a dramatic confessional about how madly in love she is with this guy after only a week of knowing him.

“See, we need to take a page from their book. Stop wasting so much time, just admit to loving each other after a week of dating, and then get married after eight weeks.” Pax sticks his tongue out at me, erasing the tension of the moment.

It’s out there, we’ve both admitted it and it’s like a weight has been lifted. I know that he returns the feelings that I’ve had for so long.

My heart spikes, though, when he says the word married. We haven’t spoken about the future much, have just been focused on the present. Saying those three big words is the most we’ve committed to a long-term future, but I can’t lie and say I haven’t fantasized about walking down the aisle to Pax.

I can’t lie and say I haven’t dreamed of my wedding day since I was a little girl. What the dress will look like, what song we’ll dance to. And for ten years, I’ve dreamed that it would be Paxton Shaw that would say “I do” standing across from me.

“Well, we are way behind then, you better get on it,” I joke, snuggling into him before he can use me as the big spoon again.

“Oh, I plan to.” Pax kisses the top of my head.

And my heart flutters.