β¦ Looking at her, I think I know better what romantic love is.β β¦ she asked, βWhat is it?β βIt is parental love,β he answered thoughtfully. βWanting to protect and keep the other person safe. As well as the love of friendship - esteeming the other person, even desiring each otherβs company beyond all others. And it is lust,β he said, meeting her eyes, and was rewarded with seeing them darken, her breath becoming slightly unsteady, one little word jerking her out of her clinical assessment. He smiled, a predatory, seductive grin. βThe physical needing of the other person, the quickened pulse, the sweaty heat.β His hand, which still rested on hers, began slowly moving, his fingers dancing over her skin. βCombining them makes the result greater than its individual parts. Because it produces something else. It creates β¦ a steadiness. A strength. I canβt explain it well - being only an outside observer - but I only know that out of my friends' relationships, my sisterβs marriage is the epitome of grace.