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I studied his face, considering the answer.

He looked like a handsome man in his thirties, complete with dark stubble and faint lines at the corners of his eyes. It was difficult to imagine him looking exactly the same twenty or thirty years from now.

"That must make birthdays rather peculiar."

Cillian smiled.

"I've never paid much attention to them."

"Well, I have. I'm rather fond of birthdays, and I fully intend to continue celebrating mine."

"Then I suppose I'll have to develop an appreciation for birthday cake."

"That would be an excellent start."

I smiled, but the question continued to interest me.

"So if we were still together in twenty years, you'd look exactly the same?"

"Yes."

"And I'd be approaching fifty."

He nodded.

I considered the contrast, trying to picture myself twenty years older beside a man whose appearance wouldn't have changed at all. I'd always assumed that growing older with someone meant experiencing those changes together.

It was a strange thing to discover that the man I wanted to date existed outside the ordinary passage of human years.

"That would take some getting used to," I admitted.

"I expect it would."

"I've never really thought about what it means for an immortal person to have a relationship with someone human," I said. "I suppose most people don't have much reason to consider it."

"Probably not."

Cillian reached for my hand, threading his fingers through mine.

"I've spent years living among humans without needing to make those decisions for myself. I can work, make friends, enjoy the world, and go on doing it indefinitely. But I haven't had to think about what happens when someone I want beside me grows older."

I listened, enjoying the warmth of his hand against mine.

"But being with you is different," he continued. "I know that. I don't have an answer for every part of it yet."

"Neither do I."

I kissed his shoulder and settled beside him again.

"Well, I suppose that gives us a few subjects for future conversations."

Cillian's arm tightened comfortably around me.

"I'd like to have those conversations," he said.

"So would I."

He tugged the quilt over our legs as the wind worried at the loose window sash. Our hands stayed linked between us.