"I'm not," Grace murmurs, though she slowly opens her eyes now. Even with her vision still adjusting, the look she gives him is warmly fond, her fingers curling lightly against the back of his neck. She wants to ask him to come back to bed, but if she delays responding to what he said before, she knows they'll both just let it go. All the same, her heart is beating too fast, body still adjusting to being awake, and she can barely find the words she wants.

Something, she needs to say something, and she wants it to be good, to express properly how deeply she cares for him. In the end, though, there's nothing else for it, no more eloquent way to put it, than the same old tried-and-true words. "I love you," she says, quiet, almost shy. As long as it's been since she's heard those words, it's been longer still since she last had cause to speak them.