The kiss deepened.
Her other hand touched his beard.
Then Graham stopped himself.
Lila opened her eyes.
“What?”
He released her waist.
Her expression changed.
Embarrassment appeared.
Graham hated that.
“No.”
He caught her hand before she moved away.
“Not regret.”
“Then what?”
He glanced toward the sideboard.
The spurs.
“Everything in this house feels unfinished.”
Lila looked at him.
“I don't want you becoming one more thing I do because I'm angry at someone else.”
Her face softened.
Graham continued.
“I want to know which part of this is me wanting you.”
“And which part is me trying to prove I can choose something.”
Lila was silent.
Then:
“That may be the most irritatingly decent thing you've said since I found you.”
Graham almost smiled.
“High praise.”
She touched his shirt.
“You do want me?”
“Yes.”
Immediate.
Her smile appeared.
“Good.”
Then she stepped away.
“Because if you make me wait forever while you become emotionally perfect, I will leave on principle.”
Graham laughed.
The tension eased.
Not disappeared.
Changed.
Three days later Lila cooked the birthday meal.
Graham did not know why until she placed it before him.
Beef.
Onions cooked pale.
Gravy.
He stared.
“What is this?”
Lila sat opposite.
“Your birthday supper.”
“My birthday is next month.”
“Yes.”
“Then why?”
“Because I won't necessarily be here next month.”
That sentence landed harder than it should have.
Graham covered the reaction with irritation.
“You cook this every year?”
“I don't.”
“Your mother did.”
His fork stopped.
Lila continued.
“Every birthday.”
“Even after you left.”
“She taught me last year when her hands grew unsteady.”
Graham looked down.
The smell had already reached memory.
Seventeen.
His father alive.
Mother at the stove.
A better version of everything.
“She did this every year.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Lila's expression remained calm.
“I don't know.”
“You lived with her.”
“You think that made her explain herself?”
Fair.
Graham took one bite.
He closed his eyes.
Same.
Exactly.
He hated her for remembering.
Loved her for remembering.
Hated himself for wanting to know which feeling mattered more.
“She could remember the onions.”
His voice was quiet.
“And still believe my life belonged to her to manage.”
Lila nodded.
“Yes.”
No defense.
That helped.
The spurs remained untouched.
Until Lila finally explained them.
It happened after supper two nights later.
Graham sat at the table.
Lila mended near the stove.
Rain tapped the window.
She said:
“The spurs were meant for the morning you left.”
Graham did not move.
“What?”
“Boone's job.”
Lila put down the needle.
“Your mother ordered them weeks beforehand.”
“She wanted new leather.”
“Good metal.”
“Something your father might have given you if he'd lived long enough to see you go.”
Graham stared at the sideboard.