And lying there, 
beneath the star-drunk sky, 
listening to the just-this-side-ouf-inaudible sound of her rhythmic breathing and the noisy silence of the grasshoppers, the distant cars rushing endlessly on I-65, 
I thought it might be a fine time to say the Three Little Words. 
And I steeled myself to say them as I stared up at that starriest night, convinced myself that she felt it, too.