That's *just* it

I was sitting in that same chair. Talking and moving my hands, like I always do. My words were going in circles. I was repeating myself. Saying things that always led to the same conclusion. Talking and talking and talking, trying to convey what it really meant, how it really felt.

- ... and... and...

- ... you love him. That's just it, isn't it?, he asked.

And all I could do was look up, into his eyes. And nod.