The last few weeks have been incredible, to say the least. Seth and I haven't been this sweet on each other since before we got engaged. It's like experiencing all that swooning and belly exploding excitement from the beginning. It's a beautiful thing.

Now that we're solid on where we stand with each other, we've been doing everything possible to keep our relationship strong. We spend plenty of time together, we go on dates, we joke, we love, we live... and we talk. A lot. When I'm pissed, we talk. When I'm hurt, we talk. When I'm happy, we talk. And the same goes for him... though, he doesn't have quite the roller coaster of emotions that I do. Half the time, I feel like I have to pull emotions out of him, because he's not even aware of his own.

I'm officially finished with work and have been spending a horrendous length of time searching job options online and in newspapers. A few seem promising, but then after the interviews, I never hear anything. It's becoming a little bit frustrating. But, I'm finding that I feel most frustrated that I haven't heard from any of the three jobs that I actually want. I guess it just takes time, and I'm trying not to feel too overwhelmed.

The sound of the front door shutting snatches my attention away from my computer screen. I close my laptop and saunter from the bedroom out into the living room. There's Seth, a smile stretching across his hopeful face.

"Pack your bags," he says before I even get a chance to greet him.

"What?"

His smile only grows, as he sings, "You'll see."

Well, this is new. Seth's been trying extra hard these days to please me, but never has he done something quite this spontaneous. If this isn't his way of telling me he absolutely adores me, then I'm not sure what is. I feel my heart kick me in the chest and joy jumps into action.

I've got my bags packed before Seth can even tell me what I'll be needing on this little trip. I just decided to throw in everything, in case. With sunglasses propped on the top of my head, I practically skip out the front door, glad to give my job hunting a break.

As the hours stretch on and the scenery becomes familiar, I begin to put the pieces together. It isn't until we pull up in front of the small cabin that I turn a smile in Seth's direction. He quickly jerks the gear shift into neutral, pulling the safety break before shutting of the truck and turning to face me.

"I figured we needed a do-over," he explains with a simple shrug.

I'm barely aware of my own actions before I'm flinging my body into Seth's arms. He stills at first, shocked by my explosive behavior, and then wraps his arms around me, nuzzling his face into my neck as he chuckles. The vibration sends waves of warmth through my body and I want nothing more than to make this the best late birthday experience of Seth's life.

"You deserve a do-over," I say, pulling away enough for Seth to see the grin on my face. "I'm sorry for screwing up your birthday weekend so horribly."

"Eh." He shrugs again, a gleam of teasing on his face. "The way I see it, I'm getting two birthday getaways. Let's just hope this one ends better than the last."

Memories flood me instantly. Not only did our relationship crumble the last time we were here, but that was also when I received the news about my mom. I can still remember that moment perfectly. I remember the dread of hearing my dad's voice. The sensation of knowing what he was about to say before he uttered the words. The thick gloom of grief that hovered around me for days after. It was absolute hell.

"I think this weekend could go horrible," I start to say, "and it'd still turn out better than last time."

He laughs, but it lacks a certain realness. I glance up to find his eyes on me. He's watching me close, reading me, probing for answers without uttering a word. When I just cock a brow at him, he finally speaks.

"How are you doing?"

It's been a long time since he's inquired about me in this way. When my mom first passed, he was almost obnoxious. Sure it was sweet, but at the time all I really wanted was quiet. I wanted people to leave me alone. I was tired of having to tell people that I wasn't doing great. And then when I got sick of saying that, I resorted to just saying that I was fine, even when I wasn't. I just didn't want the looks of pity. I didn't want people to try and dig out my deepest, ugliest emotions. I was sick of everyone trying to test their psychologist skills on me. All I wanted to do was mourn in peace. Seth finally realized this and started backing off some. And while half of me missed his constant concern, the other half realized he was trying to give me what I needed.

I swallow a thick lump of emotion, trying my best to draw my thoughts back to the present. I don't want to be sad this weekend. I want this weekend to be all about the present and making a future with this sweetheart of a man sitting next to me.

"I'm okay most of the time," I finally tell him honestly. "It still hits me, though. I'll just be carrying on with life, and suddenly I'll realize that my mom's gone. It's so easy to keep living, but it's those moments when I suddenly have an urge to talk to my mom or hug her, that I realize that those aren't even possibilities anymore." I pause, glancing out the window at the small cabin in front of us. "I think it's the removal of such possibilities that hurts the most. Like, calling up my mom for a chat isn't even an option."

"You know," Seth says, leaning towards me to cup my chin between his thumb and fingers. "You don't have to suffer alone. I'm here. I want to be here. I know nothing will ever replace what you lost, but maybe I can help to soften the blow of reality."

I just nod, soaking in the tenderness of his caress. My eyes close as he slides his fingers over my cheek, and then with a soft kiss to the skin near my lips, he's pulling away.

"You ready to get this party started?"

My eyes flicker open at his sudden change in tone, and I smile at the boyish grin on his face.

"Absolutely."

We hurry to unload the truck once we realize that a storm is brewing. I hug my coat close to my body as I wait for Seth to unlock the door, and then we shuffle inside. We make a beeline for the bedroom, dropping our luggage next to the bed and then flinging our bodies over the comforter.

"I'm so exhausted," I complain.

"But," Seth begins to argue, flipping over to rest his weight on his forearms as he lays on his stomach, "We haven't even gotten started yet."

I chuckle at the meaning behind his words, but make no move to act on what he might be implying. Before I can even decline his subtle offer, he's jumping off the bed and digging through his suitcase.

"Come on," he shouts excitedly as he twirls his swim trunks around his finger on his way to the bathroom.

He's like a kid. The level of maturity that he is able to drop to at times is astounding—if not highly entertaining. For someone with such a serious job, you'd think he'd always hold some level of professionalism. That's not the case. Lately, it seems that the moment he's off work, he's discarding his dress shirt for a superman cape.

Okay, so he's not that immature, but pretty close. He's all about having fun these days and I love it. He's making the most of his circumstances. He's grabbing life by the reigns and kicking it into action. I have no complaints.

The thing I find most incredible is how I'd predicted our problems to have caused some serious damage. I was expecting months of recuperating from the pain we'd put each other through, but that's not the case. We're more alive now than we ever were before.

Dragging myself from the bed, I follow Seth's example and quickly disrobe into my swimming suit. He exits the bathroom just as I'm tying the strings of my top and I hear a sigh of disappointment leave his lips.

"I'm always too late," he grumbles, sliding up behind me and running his hands over my waist. "You weren't supposed to change so fast."

I laugh at his berating tone as I rotate myself in his arms. Pushing up to my toes, I direct his head towards me and slide my lips across his. He's responding before I can even dig my fingers into his scalp and force him to. Seconds tick by into minutes before we break contact and I'm already hungry for more.

"Okay," he says, pulling away with great difficultly. "You keep this up and we'll never make it to the hot tub."

I slap him on the chest as I sidle past him to grab a towel from the bathroom, and then with fingers entwined, we're heading to the back of the house.

This weekend is already way better than the last time. We're at peace with each other. Instead of aching to satisfy an ugly need inside of us, we're relaxed in our relationship. I don't need to touch Seth just to tempt him into loving me the way I hope he will; now I'm happy to touch him just to prove my love for him. I want words to speak through my fingers when I run my hand down his arm to entangle my fingers with his. I don't want such an action to spark a fear that I'm out to gain something from him. I don't wish to caress him just to get something out of it.

We've done a fantastic job of uniting ourselves in every sense of the word, but I think we've both realized that the physical side of a marriage isn't what makes it grow. Only after realizing this did the more intimate part of our relationship blossom. It's so much more beautiful when our sole focus is the other person and not ourselves.

Seth and I slide beneath the water, our eyes trained on each other as we smile through the steam. It's far more enjoyable now that the weather is actually cold. I shiver as goosebumps rise from beneath my skin. I rub my hands over my arms as I sink deeper into the bubbling warmth around me.

"This is perfect," I sigh.

"I disagree," Seth argues. I glance in his direction to find him scooting around the hot tub until his slippery skin is sliding against mine. He pulls me into his lap, soothing a hand over my thigh as his eyes find mine. "There," he says. "Now it's perfect."

Quiet descends on us after that. I can feel the joy radiating between us. We're content just to sit in silence as long as we have each other's company.

"Hey," I suddenly say, turning slightly to get a better look at Seth's face. He runs a hand over his damp face before eyeing me with curiosity. "You never told me what exactly that one tattoo means?"

"That's random," he chuckles.

"Not really," I deny. "Last time I asked about it, we were in this same place. I was just remembering that, and now I'm dying to know... what does it really mean?"

"I'd tell you," he says seriously, "but then I'd have to kill you."

And with that, he's devouring my neck in heated kisses, the question forgotten.