Brier pulled away from the kiss, away from Emile's hands around her, and turned her face up, giddy with the thrill of what he had told her. “I love you” He had said. Her! He loved her. She'd never heard anything more absurd or more beautiful in her life. But as she searched his face she recalled what she had forgotten for that moment. The thing which had brought her out here and suddenly the light, sweet feeling that had filled her all up got wet and heavy inside her and sank.
Emile was not happy, not like she was. He was upset. And no wonder - the thing which she had been carrying for these long weeks was new to him.
She met his eyes and reached up to clear the hair from her face as she tried to decide what to talk about first – love or death.
"...I'm sorry." she said. "To make you tell me that this way. You have such a beautiful thing to say to me, and I muss it up with bad news." She bit her lip. "But. I think...I think I might..." Love was such a strong word. Love meant something so big and lofty. Such a level of regard that it was not to be used lightly. And yet, Brier did not think she was using it lightly.
"I think I love you too."