Hyperbole?

"I'm having a hard time with what happened in our conversation last night, Lady," I confessed.

"Well," she said carefully, "I felt a little threatened during our conversation. I felt like you were judging and condemning me."

"I really wasn't," I protested.

"I can accept that. I can choose to believe that that's not what you meant by what you said.

"It's entirely likely that I... overstated some things, just to prove a point. It's possible that I wasn't entirely accurate in everything I said, and used some... hyperbole."

"Really?" I said. "I... I don't think we need to go into that, at least not until we're seeing a counsellor together. But... that makes me feel a lot better."

"I agree," she said. "We shouldn't get into this outside of counselling.

"Your behaviour towards me has been tremendously fulfilling. My emotional needs are pretty thoroughly met. I haven't felt any need to go out and find someone else --- for anything --- for the past three months, since you've been... nice to me."

I blushed, and she continued, "I just need to know... if you actually like me."

"Lady," I said, choking up, "this one issue was very difficult for me. But setting that aside, I like you. I like you very much."

"All right," she said. "Let's go to bed."

"Uh, I should sleep downstairs. Unless... you actively want me in bed with you. Sometimes you're unsure, and if you're unsure tonight, I should be downstairs."

"No," she said. "I want you in bed with me tonight. Just cuddles, though."

"Of course!" I replied. "I wasn't even expecting cuddles, so that's a pleasant surprise."

In the morning, we were still nestled in each other's arms. I hated to leave her, but I needed to go to work.