Before I picked Eve up this morning I picked up a cup of coffee and a bagel breakfast sandwich for Blaine. Last night he received bad news about a friend's health (not someone I know). I thought he may not have slept well and would skip breakfast (he often does). I could do something about one of those things, so...
When Eve got into my car, she sniffed. "Were you drinking coffee?"
As if.
Upon hearing my explanation, she told me my love language is acts of service. I hadn't heard of this so she pulled it up on her phone and read the descriptions for the five. It's probably correct, but I gravitate toward four of the five. "I'll bombard you until you feel better, damn it!"
"Don't make me come over there and hug you," she threatened.
"I'll tell you I love you and force a gift wrapped tchotchke into your hand, by God."
The 90-minute drive breezed by. The full-day meeting did not. It was ridiculous that we were there, but the group was understanding and was appreciative of the information we could provide. Over the lunch hour Eve emailed her boss and I emailed mine (and his assistant) with questions we hadn't been able to answer. We offered what we could after lunch.
On the way back I wondered out loud if we had been thrown under a bus. "I don't think so," Eve said.
"Tied to the top?" I asked.
"Yes. With a low-clearance overpass ahead of us."
"I feel better."
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