Walking out of the restaurant, he grips the back of my neck. Squeezes gently.
I am happy. Relaxed.
He is showing his dominance to everyone around us.
But more than that. His love. His tenderness toward me. His caring.
His hand says, “I love this woman. She is mine.”
I feel lucky. I sigh, feeling the tension drain. Why do we not do this more often?
He holds my door open for me, gets me into my car and kisses me goodbye. The moment is broken, but not gone.
We drive our separate ways, him to his work, me to mine.
But that moment at lunch stays with me the rest of the day.