Garlic bits pushed to one side and safely out of my reach.
He doesn't really buy me flowers, doesn't bring me for fancy dress-up dinners, or shower me with lots of PDA. But he makes up for it in other ways. Like doing his best to make sure that I am always kept out of harm's way. Even with the little things. Like too much garlic. So, yes. I tell myself that he cares. And he loves me. In ways few women like myself appreciate. Because his love rarely comes in the form of lavish or romantic gestures. No, my fiancé is a practical man. But practicality isn't always a woman's forte. So, I learn. To pay attention to the things he does instead of the things he says. And I learn to read and understand his language of love that doesn't come in the form of sentences of words.