Last Monday afternoon I stayed back at work. After having my week off on holidays and moving that weekend I had a tonne of programming to get done. So I stayed back until the centre closed at six thirty at night.
James called me and said he was just on his way home from the shopping centre, getting groceries. I was under the impression his home and made a comment that I wished that he was still at mine. He apologised that he wasn't and we continued to talk.
He said he would call me when he got home; I thought he meant I would call him. When he called back a few moments later we talked briefly, including him telling me no takeaway for dinner, and I said how I would be home closer to seven at night. I was then offered a lift so I was home a little earlier.
In the car with my coworker I discussed how I would have liked to have him there tonight, but I guess it would be okay.
I look up and see he left the lights on for me. That's sweet I think.
As I am walking up the stairs I am contemplating what I can get delivered. Pizza will do I think.
I put my key in the door and there he is, standing in my kitchen cooking me dinner.
I smiled, a big smile. I was extremely happy to see him and was incredibly surprised. I walked over and wrapped my arms around him and told him I loved him.
Oh boy, I love him, a lot.