Seth and I let water settle around us as we lay cradled against each other, conversation bouncing between us. We haven't been this carefree in a long time. We don't talk about much of importance after my announcement, but we have a new level of openness between us. I can feel all the things we've been dying to say to each other over the months coming out from hiding. We're just simply talking.

I'm practically an ice-cube by the time we pull ourselves off the mattress. The air has definitely faded into the beginnings of fall, and I'm absolutely miserable now as I quake with chills running through my blood. I'll definitely pay for this later, but it's so worth it now.

Thankfully, I came prepared for this. Rooting through my satchel, I pull out a couple small blankets and a lighter. Seth glances at the fire-starter in my hand and instantly volunteers to go on a wood hunt.

Fifteen minutes later, he returns, bare arms cradling a heap of wood. He immediately gets to work setting the sticks and logs into a miniature tee-pee. I just watch, happily snuggled into my blanket as Seth shows off his outdoorsy manliness.

Within minutes, smoke is billowing from the stack of wood as he blows gently into the depths of it. His eyes find mine as he bents to blow another few breaths into the heated center of the sticks until a small flicker comes to life. The warmth radiating from the flames is almost as powerful as the heat in Seth's gaze.

He leans back on the balls of his feet, gazing at the flame dancing between the pieces of wood. Once satisfied that it's not going to die out, he places a few more scraps of debris on the fire and comes to settle down next to me.

By now, I've got my jeans and tank top back on. Any added layers to keep me warm are definitely welcome. So, when Seth drops his arm over my shoulder, I instantly lean into his side. He smells so good—a mix of spicy cologne and smoked wood. I have a desire to turn my face into his naked side just so I can take a deeper whiff... which is exactly what I do.

I breathe him in, his skin warm against my face as I close my eyes to savor the scent. I feel his fingers rise up towards the side of my face and he slides my hair over my ear. He doesn't remove his hand after that though, but instead, continues to glide his thumb over the skin just beneath my earlobe.

It's this kind of physical contact that I've been needing. I don't need hugs from strangers, or co-workers... I need them from my husband. I used to take Seth's touches for granted, thinking it was just a part of his title as 'husband', but now it's so much more than that. It's like his fingers carry a spell in them. Just a gentle caress makes me feel so much more cherished than ever before. It's beautiful and terrifying all at the same time. Because as much as I love this moment right now, I fear that it won't last.

What if life settles back down to normal and we just carry on with how we were before. Sure, our relationship at the beginning was fabulous, but there were still days when it was just normal. I never want to just be 'normal' again. I want every moment of our lives together to be special. Even the mundane, daily aspects of living... I want them to mean something more, just because of the simple fact that I get to spend them next to my soulmate.

"I hope you know how much you mean to me," I hear Seth whisper into the crown of my head, his breath tickling my hair.

I don't respond, because those simple words suddenly bring a wave of sadness into my heart and I'm not in the mood to be sad. I want to turn toward him, grab his face in my hands, and explain that I might know how much I mean to him if he'd just tell me. But, when he refused to tell me that he loved me just days ago, he unknowingly told me exactly how he felt.

This moment is too special to mess up. If I respond to Seth, then I'll most certainly mess it up. So, I just snuggle closer to his side, letting his fingers weave themselves into my hair. Minutes tick by, neither of us speaking as we listen to the outdoors sing lullabies to each other. It's peaceful and settling. My eyes are slowly closing, the sound of Seth's steady heartbeat against my ear offering a warm sense of security to my needy spirit.

"How did we get to such a place?" I find myself asking, my mouth betraying my desire to keep the conversation light.

"How do you mean?" Seth asks, resting his chin on the top of my head. I can feel his voice vibrating from his chest as he speaks, but I don't pull away.

"We just have so many issues," I explain. "I feel like our relationship is a bruised apple. We were once so beautiful, but now we're flawed. How can we erase the bruises?"

Seth is silent for a moment as he takes in my words. I can almost feel him thinking as the stream trickles in the distance. A light frost has settled into the grass now, but the space around us and our little fire is still toasty and dry.

It's moments like these that chisel their way into my memory with the most ease. I think it has something to do with the drastic contrasts that surround us. When two contradicting moments combine, they make an imprint on your memory. It's like sipping hot chocolate on a snowy day, or sitting beneath the welcome shade of a crab-apple tree as a summer breeze blazes around you, or standing on the most serene mountain top as a joyful cry breaks through your lips and shatters the stillness, or even watching a man cling to the tiny form of his baby girl as she sleeps peacefully in his powerful, yet gentle arms.

Hot—cold.

Silence—noise.

Firm—fragile.

Like hardening metal by plunging it in water, we solidify this memory into our minds. It's beautiful and unbreakable.

"You know what I think?" Seth begins to say, shifting his weight slightly as he seeks a more comfortable position.

Seth's words break me out of my thoughts, and I lift my head away from his chest just enough to have a look at his face. He must feel my eyes on him because he glances down at me. His face is serious, his arms tightening around me slightly as he pulls me to him. I don't think he realizes he did it, but I'm not complaining. I like the nearness. I crave it, actually.

"I think our issues are good," he finishes saying.

This has my eyebrows scrunching up in confusion and concern. He thinks our issues are good? Clearly, Seth is weirder than I am if he believes that.

"Explain," I say, tilting my head slightly as I await his explanation.

"I don't know," he says, dropping his right arm from my waist and placing it behind him as he leans his body weight back onto it. "I just think they make us stronger. You know? Like..."

He sits back up, slightly fidgety as he rubs his right hand through his hair. His left arm is still snaked around my back where he draws mindless circles into the gap of flesh revealed at my waist. I lean into him more, waiting for him to elaborate on his words.

"Like, there's something that can be said about a couple that survives what we've put each other through," he goes on to say. "Don't you think? We were inches away from signing our marriage away, and yet, we found our way back to each other. We've been to hell and back. Don't you think that makes us stronger? Indestructible, almost?"

I absorb his words, not convinced. I see his point, and in a way, I do agree, but his theory also has a lot of holes.

"Yeah," I nod slowly, pulling away slightly as the nature of our conversation grows more serious. "I'm not sure if that's entirely true..." I pause, "...yet. I don't think it's true yet. We've hurt each other a lot," I say. "What if those scars never heal?"

"Sure," Seth agrees, but I can see him pondering another idea. "But don't scars make things beautiful. It adds depth to them, right? Sure, it hurt at the time, but at least we have each other now." He stops talking for a moment, his eyes zeroing in on my face. "Mercy," he says softly, reaching towards my face to let his thumb skim the flesh near the corner of my mouth. "I'm here now, and I will do everything in my power to never see you hurt again. I hate myself—" he chokes. "I hate myself for ever hurting you."

"Me too," I respond without thought. "I'm starting to become aware of my own faults. I blamed you for so long when it was actually me the whole time. I guess we always think we're blameless until someone rubs our noses in the crap we've left behind in our selfish actions. Only then are we able to smell that it's our mess. And," I say, flicking a chunk of hair over my shoulder, "all of this most certainly started with my mess. It was my crap that messed us up."

I pause to take in Seth's expression. The hint of amusement on his face has my chest deflating with relief. He's not denying that it started with me, but he's also not nodding his head in affirmation. Actually, I think the only thing he's really focusing on right now is my 'crap' analogy.

"What?" I ask, perturbed.

"Nothing," he says, putting up his hands in defense, successfully releasing me from his hold. I watch him fight to keep his laughter hidden, but when I quirk an unimpressed eyebrow at him, he cracks. "Sorry," he mumbles behind a fist. "It's just the way you said that." He shakes his head as he tries to reign in his amused emotions.

"But it's true," I argue. "I left some big turds in our relationship, and then I blamed you for them."

When Seth cracks another smile, I can't hold it in anymore either. Within seconds, we're both cackling into the quiet night, our laughter battling the soft crackle of the fire as it slowly fades into a tame glow amongst the embers.

"I left some turds of my own," Seth finally says after a few moments, his hand reaching out to pull me into his chest. "I'm just sorry we were both dumb enough not to clean it up right away. If you ever crap in our relationship again," he warns playfully, "I'll either force you to clean it up or do it myself. I will never let the stench cloud our lives so much that we become immune to the scent."

"This conversation is just getting gross," I mutter, hiding a smile as I bury my face in Seth's chest.

Seth laughs again before saying, "Yes, but I mean it." I feel his hand cradle my head as he soothes his fingers into my hair. "If I start to notice something that you're doing that doesn't make me all that thrilled, I promise to talk to you about it, okay?" I nod, not pulling away from his solid chest. "And I expect you to do the same."

Only then do I lift my gaze to find his own. Then, pushing upwards slowly, I press my lips against the sensitive flesh of his neck where his pulse beats with timed rhythm.

"Absolutely," I whisper into his skin.

And just like that, I'm being flipped over onto my back as Seth hovers above me. His arms are strained against the pressure of his own body weight, and he's wearing a playful grin on his lips as he leans down to dot my forehead with kisses. Then, he bypasses my lips and makes his way to my ear. His tongue grazes the rim before he speaks, his voice gravelly and seductive...

"Then have fun cleaning up my crap."

With that, everything about this evening folds into the background as we end the night, playfully dancing between kisses and bellowing laughter.