The front door opened, but too many sets of footsteps shuffled around one another.
“Oh,” Milo said, surprised.
“Sorry,” Logan mumbled. The door slammed shut as Milo rounded the corner.
“Smells good,” he said, pointing to the stove. “Everything okay?”
Hanna turned to look at him, and she could see he was braced for one of her meltdowns, his muscles poised to grab her. But for once, she didn’t want to break into pieces.
“Everything’s fine,” she forced out, holding those green eyes with hers. She wanted to tackle him to the floor and fuck him into oblivion, but she didn’t want to feel him inside of her for the first time between boiling pots and timers. She wanted to savor it.
Milo seemed to read her mind. In a flash, she was up against the counter, the edge of it cutting into her lower back as he gripped her neck and hauled her mouth to his. His tongue danced over her lower lip, driving any remaining uncertainty planted by Logan away.
She sighed, relaxing under his touch as his hands kneaded her chest. Something popped and sizzled on the stove.
“Ah, shit,” she said, pushing him away, the pasta boiling over. He grabbed a towel and laughed to himself as he pushed the pot to the back eye of the stove, cleaning up what he could before she shooed him away. “Get out of the kitchen before I burn dinner.”
He grinned and tapped her hips as he squeezed by her again.
“I got stuff to set the table anyway. Let me know when you’re capable of being in my presence.”
It took her another twenty minutes to finish the meal, the sun slipping between their buildings as she plated her mother’s signature recipe. Milo pulled a record from his shelf and dropped the needle over something smooth she didn’t recognize. She darted out of the kitchen to Milo’s tiny dining table, set with another teal mason jar full of sunflowers and a hand-labeled amber bottle.
“Looks amazing,” Milo said, sliding into his chair with two rocks glasses. He popped the cork from the bottle and poured heavier than she would have. “I’m not sure if this is the ideal pairing, but I think you’ll forgive me.”
“I’m sure I can be convinced,” she said, settling across from him. He leaned forward, a gorgeous smile unfolding for her.
“I cannot remember the last time these dishes were used, so thank you for feeding me.”
“You’re saving me from shacking up with my ex for the week, I owe you.”
“I like it better when you thank me on your knees,” Milo said, curling the pasta around his fork. He closed his eyes as he took his first bite. “Actually, I’m not sure that I do. This is delicious.”
“Lisa specialty,” she said. She hadn’t made it since her mother died, and she didn’t think she ever would again, but if anyone would appreciate it the way it deserved, it was Milo.
Lisa had made it for dinner when she brought Logan home to meet her, she’d made it when she graduated from ASU, when she got the offer on her first big girl job… she’d lacked reasons to make it for too long.
“Thank you for sharing it with me,” he said, sipping his whiskey. “I’d make you something my dad was known for, but the man never lifted a finger in the kitchen. Mom cooks everything from scratch.” He lit up at the mention of his mother.
She smiled as she swirled her glass. “You really admire her, huh?”
“I hate to do this to you, because you’re already clearly so enamored with me, but my mom and I have a great relationship. Not one of those weird mother-son relationships either. We text daily, and we get lunch every Wednesday. Sunday night dinners. The whole nine.”
“You have to stop talking,” she said. “You’re funny, close with your mom, spend more time in therapy than out of it, communicate clearly, you’re very good with your hands… your only flaw is that you don’t want to bestow any of that on someone long term?”
Milo nodded slowly. “No one can be perfect.”
“What a waste,” she laughed.
Milo folded his arms. “I did date when I was younger. I dated a lot. But you’ll find that it’s really hard to be with someone who doesn’t get what you’re dealing with, and it’s even harder to be with someone who does. You can’t hide from them. I know you and Logan were together for a long time, and I’m sure he cared about your mother, but it’s not the same for him. He lost someone he cared about, but you lost your origin story. It’s a whole piece of you that’s just gone.”
Hanna held her breath as he spoke, counting all the pieces of her that vanished in an instant.
“I’ve tried dating non-members of the Dead Parent Society, but I need someone who can actually sit with me in the hard moments. I’m sorry to tell you this, but even fifteen years later, it’ll still punch you right in the goddamn face. I had girlfriends who didn’t understand why I prioritize my family the way I do, or why I struggle to get out of bed when spring rolls around. There aren’t a lot of people our age who have been through it.”
Hanna nodded, taking another bite of pasta. She missed the noodle and nipped her tongue, a sharp pain jolting her as she found herself trying to escape his point.
“And even if I found someone who did get it, then this whole other side of me starts to panic. What if I made someone love me and then just die and leave them?”
