“I love you.”

Oh shit, thinks Natalie.

James stands on the mauve and white carpet of the motel with a helpless grin on his face. Natalie tries to smile, sheepishly she hopes, and pulls him in for a hug. Not a “condescending pat-on-the-shoulder” kind of hug, but a “oh, hun, it’s cute that you think so” sort of hug. Definitely not the “I love you, now we’re face-sucking” hug James goes for.