True Valentine

The sun was full in his face as he reached both hands toward her, pushing her hair back from each cheekbone, until he cupped her face. Through the glare, he could see half of her smile, one eye shining, the other lost in the glory of the afternoon sun. Reaching further, his fingers reached the top of her neck, and he pulled her toward him.
"You have no idea how long I've wanted to do this." he said, watching her mouth.
Her lips twitched nervously, "Do what?"
He kissed her, tightly, unmoving in his intensity. It was not a kiss of lust, or passion, or even romance. It seemed to hold all the pent up emotions of the last five years; his grief and anger at losing her, the longing, the loneliness, the despair and resignation, all of it was in the tight grip of his hands on her face, the pressure of his closed lips on hers, the tension in his arms.

She reacted to this intensity for a moment, then leaned into him in an unspoken understanding, and pushed him slightly onto his heels as she molded her body into his and returned the fervour of his kiss. Reaching around his waist, she pulled him close, as much to reassure him as to feel his closeness. She felt his pent-up memories and tried to convey her understanding.

For a long moment they remained frozen, locked in a private world of recollection; longings, regrets and aspirations. When he finally released her, she was crying silently, the tears reaching down her cheeks.
"I'm sorry," he said wiping them away, "Please don't cry." She shook her head, never taking her eyes from his. "I need to do this," she said, and sniffed, then smiled. "I think it's all the tears I made you cry, come back to haunt me. I'm sorry I went away."
He smiled then, his first smile in a long time; "I'm glad you came back."

He hugged her close, felt her hold him tightly, then felt her relax into him, the tension leaving her at last. "It's good to have you home", he said.