Love Affair

One

Days without Niall are slow.

I miss him every second we're apart, even if my thoughts and actions are consumed by work or other tasks, he's always in my head begging for me to be with him.

Work is a big distraction to not being with him, having to remind two year olds they can't stick beads up their nose, or bite their friends definitely takes my mind off of him.

But then I'll find myself at my desk, once all the children have been picked up, daydreaming about being with my husband.

Luckily, I finish work at midday, the kids are all gone by twenty past and on good days I'm out by one. That means I find myself in my car, giddy about seeing Niall. Three years of marriage and I still blush at the thought of greeting him with a kiss.

He's like the biggest breath of fresh air, even when he's in a foul mood from work. Most days when he's in a terrible mood, I find myself bent over his desk so he can't relieve his stress and that is always my favourite way to greet him. Although, when he's cheery and smiling, he'll continue his business calls while I ride him on his desk chair.

I love every second of being married to Niall, every single second. I've come to love his little quirks, how loud his snores are, the cheeky comments he makes all the time and how he is constantly slapping my ass in public, the man has no shame.

And I know I lucked out with him because every night we go out onto our balcony, cuddle up under a blanket with glasses of wine and watch the stars. He points out different constellations, telling me stories about them I'm sure I've heard thousands of times but still find him mesmerising to listen to three years on.

I normally fall asleep outside, he'll carry me in and tuck me up in bed before joining me and embracing me into the warmest, safest hugs.

There's something about the way he hugs me, the way he holds me that's so unbelievably comforting and safe. When I'm sad I find comfort in his arms, I don't even have to say anything anymore, just collapse in his arms and let the comfort take over my system.

He's the same, very puppy-like. He's getting closer to thirty yet he'll still pout when he's sad, I think it's unintentional, before he'll curl up against me so I'll play with his hair.

We're both needy souls, our love language is touch more than anything else and I'm sure anyone would see that in an instant. When we're together, we're touching in some way. Whether our pinkies are looped together, we're kissing or he's buried inside me doesn't matter.

I've come to terms with the fact I simply crave Niall Horan at this point but he likes to remind me there's not much more of him I can get.

I have his heart, his love, his full attention, his last night. The only thing left is to have his children, something that terrifies me to no end. He wants to be a dad, he loves the idea of it but I've not wrapped my head around being mature enough to be a mother.