Aiden shows up for our date still in his work clothes, a soft navy sweater pulled over his dress shirt. Whatever he was doing in the archives today, the pads of his fingers have very light ink stains, which leave little smudges on my hand as we walk to the restaurant.

He picked out the place: a tiny Greek restaurant, across the street from the same beach where we rescued Charlie.

It’s cold out. The waiter makes a puzzled face when Aiden asks if we can sit outside, but doesn’t comment. We’re the only ones in the outdoor seating area, which is nice. We can talk without worrying about being overheard, and Aiden keeps things toasty warm for us. The candle on the table doesn’t even flicker in the breeze.

The glow of it catches in Aiden’s eyes as he sits listening to me, his chin propped on his hand, an affectionate smile on his face.

He pulls out his phone to show me the standouts from the old documents he archived today, including a very stern memo to City Hall employees about not taking each other’s umbrellas from the coatroom. It was clearly written on a typewriter, and the mental image of someone angrily clacking away about umbrellas makes both of us laugh.

Halfway through dinner, Aiden moves to sit in the chair next to me, instead of across from me. His sleeves are tucked up around his elbows. He leaves one oversized hand on my knee.

I tell him about my shift at the shop, how we got in a delivery where a few of the plants were crushed in transport. Kent told me it was cool to toss them, but I’m trying to bring a few of them back from the brink.

Aiden listens quietly, tracing his thumb in gentle circles on my knee. He can’t possibly know what I’m talking about as I delve into the specifics of how I’m trying to save the plants, but his warm blue eyes stay fixed on my face the whole time.

After dinner, he asks if I want to go on a walk. The beach is blustery, and growing dark as the last of the sunlight fades away, so we opt for the stretch of sandy sidewalk that runs alongside it.

We take our time, in no rush. To our left, the ocean, white-capped and whipped up in the breeze. To our right, the row of shops and houses that line the street.

Every shop window is decorated for the season, autumn displays in warm colors. Red ochre, crimson, gold. Most of the private doors mixed in with the businesses have wreaths.

Ketterbridge gets especially rainy late in the fall, and once again, a drizzle is fluttering down. The coolness of the fresh-sprinkled pavement climbs up through the soles of my boots.

Aiden keeps us in a cocoon of cozy warmth as we walk. We cross the street and buy to-go cups of cider from a bakery, then move back to the sandy sidewalk, hand in hand.

I’ve been chattering away, but eventually, we lapse into one of those rich silences I’ve come to love.

After some time walking like this, I feel a gentle push against my palm. Aiden trying to open the connection. I drop the barriers, allow a little rush of his energy into my hand, up my arm.

Hi, he says.

Hi.

Did you notice that it’s snowing?

I look up, surprised, and see that the rain sifting down is mixed with glittering snowflakes.

There’s no one else on the sidewalk - it’s too cold for anyone but a Heliomancer and his boyfriend to be going for a stroll - so I feel okay to stop, staring up at the swirly grey clouds, the flakes shimmering on their way down.

No, I didn’t notice, actually. So pretty, though.

I think so, too.

Through our connection, I feel something surprising: Aiden is nervous.

His heartbeat isn’t racing, exactly, but it’s moving at a faster clip than normal. He seems okay, totally normal on the surface, but there’s a faint, anxious tremble within him.

I drop my gaze from the sky and look at him, questioning him with my eyes. He knows why. He can feel that I’ve sensed it.

He slows to a stop, then leans back against the railing that edges the beach. He’s still holding my hand, and he leaves our connection open.

There's something I want to talk to you about, he says. If that’s okay. We can talk later, if you don’t want to right now.

My own nerves stir, troubled by this.

I thought that everything was going good with us, but hearing can we talk from your significant other is never exactly calming.

No, let’s talk now, please. Is something wrong?

Nothing’s wrong. Everything is perfect. Aiden uses his fingers to comb a strand of hair out of my eyes. I just… that was quite a face you made at me. When I was holding Nik.

I don’t know where I thought this conversation was going, but this is definitely not it, and I’m caught completely off guard.

It was cute, I answer, somehow managing to sound defensive even with my inside voice. Because she’s tiny, and you’re ridiculously huge. Honestly, I don’t even know how you were able to fit more than two Aiden-sized t-shirts in that one backpack of yours, while you were traveling. Or is it a magic bag? I bet it fits way more on the inside than it looks like on the outside, and it’s another thing that was handed down through your family for generations-

Jamie, he interrupts. You’re changing the subject. But to answer your question, no. I got that backpack at Target.

Well, there’s that theory out the window.

Aiden squeezes my hand. Jamie.

I blow out a frustrated breath, tipping my head back.

Okay, yes. I made a face at you when you were holding Nik. As I recall, you made a face back at me, Callahan. In fact, I have a picture to prove it.

I’m not denying that, he says, and I pause, staring up at him.

Okay...

I have no idea where Aiden is going with this, and he can tell. He hesitates. The nervousness I sense in him spikes sharply as he begins to speak.

Look, I… I don’t want to freak you out, or sound like I’ve got my foot down too hard on the pedal. But we are serious about each other. And we got together in the summer, and now it’s snowing, so maybe it’s been enough time, and we should - talk about this. Kids. Just - whether that’s something - in the future, at some point, like - whether or not that’s something you - you-

Aiden trails off, his cheeks turning crimson. His control over the temperature wavers with his distraction, and I’m hit with a sudden gust of cold.

I wince, which he immediately misunderstands. His blue eyes fill up with alarm. I feel it in our connection, an icy rush through his body.

Oh - look, man, we really don’t have to talk about this right now - I’m sorry - I know that, um, commitment stuff is-

No, no, it’s okay, I cut in. Hey. The connection’s open. You can feel how I feel, remember?

Aiden gives himself a second to listen to me, feel me, breathe with my breath.

You… actually seem alright. Nervous, though.

Yeah, that’s an accurate read, I tell him, and he laughs softly.

This is surprising. I half expected you to go jump in the ocean.

No. My cheeks are starting to burn, more and more with each word I speak. I’ve… been thinking about this, recently. To tell you the truth. Or I’ve been - wondering how you feel about it, anyways.

Aiden’s eyes grow even warmer. Tropical pools I could swim in for hours.

I’ve been wondering how you feel about it, too, he answers.

He was clearly about to say something else, but he stops, drawing in a sharp breath. Through our connection, he feels the flood of bright happiness that overwhelmed me the moment he said what he did.

His mouth quirks up in a small smile. He bends to put his forehead to mine.

Aw, he says, and I groan deeply.

“Okay.” I take my hand from his, closing the connection. “You know what? I can’t have you feeling everything I’m feeling while we have this talk.”

“Yeah, no, we should probably do this out loud,” Aiden agrees. “I don’t particularly want you feeling all of my feelings, either.”

“Wow.” I raise my eyebrows at him. “The conversation is already off to a weird start. Most people don’t have to decide whether or not to do this out loud, you know.”

“Well, that’s the thing, dude.” Aiden’s smile drops away. “There’s... some stuff we have to talk about that most people definitely don’t.”

I drag a fingertip down the side of his face. “Yeah, I realize that, Guardian.”

He huffs out a soft laugh, then bites down on his lip, uncertain.

There’s a silence, during which we both stare at each other.

“Neither of us wants to go first, huh?” Aiden asks.

“God, no.”

“You should,” he blurts out.

“Um! No, I don’t think so! It should be you!”

“Why me?”

“Because!” I pull my phone out of my pocket, then find the picture of Aiden and Nik. I turn my phone around, so he can see the expression on his own face. “I think I might already know how you feel about this, anyways.”

Aiden presses his lips together tightly, then runs a hand through his chestnut hair. “I - just-”

I take his hand, give his fingers a soft squeeze.

“I thought that maybe you didn’t want kids, because of what you’d be handing down. But after seeing you like that, with Nik… I'm pretty sure I was wrong. I was, wasn’t I?”

Aiden needs some time to find his way to an answer. I wait patiently, reaching up to brush a few melting snowflakes from his hair.

“So, I - obviously, I have a whole lot of reservations about handing down the covenant. I mean, what it did to my life - what it still does…”

I give his fingers another squeeze. “It’s okay. I know.”

Aiden lets out a heavy exhale.

“I have thought about it a lot, believe me. But it does occur to me that I know exactly how not to raise a Guardian. You know, from my own damn experience.”

A tiny flame of anger lights in his eyes, and he closes them for a minute. I tuck my phone back into my pocket and spread a hand on his chest. He takes a deep breath, then jumps a little when I kiss him. His eyes were still closed, and he didn’t see it coming.

It startles a laugh out of him, and he shakes his head.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs.

“Don’t be sorry, it’s okay. Take your time.”

Aiden gathers his thoughts back together, then looks into my eyes again.

“The thing is, I’ve already had to give up a lot, because I’m a Guardian,” he says slowly. “I don’t want to give this up, too. I don't want to give up doing this with you. One day. If you want to.”

I stare up at him, dumbfounded, my heart hammering.

He keeps going before I can so much as get a word out.

“Look, though - I know that you like kids, I can tell, but a baby Guardian is a whole other thing, and honestly, Jamie, I - wouldn’t blame you one bit if-”

“Nope.” I put a finger over his lips, beaming at him. “Don’t even do that. Trust me, you don’t have to.”

He pauses, absorbing the look on my face. “No?”

“No.” I stand on my toes, balance myself with my hands on his chest, and give him an extremely enthusiastic kiss. “Not at all. Turns out we’re on the same page. So much on the same page.”

Aiden draws back, disbelieving.

“Wh-? Have you really thought about-?”

“Of course I have, you absolute moron. I’ve been thinking about this ever since you showed me the dream.”

Aiden stares at me, wide-eyed. “And - you can seriously see a future where-?”

“Yes. You know I can’t lie. Yes.” My cheeks are starting to ache from my smile. “And here I was, thinking I would have to talk you into it.”

“What? You would have done that?” Aiden frowns, taken aback. “That doesn’t sound like you. People who don’t want kids hate it when other people try to convince them that they do. Rightfully so.”

“Yeah, normally I never would. I only intended to do it if you told me that you didn’t want kids solely because you’re a Guardian.” I tap his nose. “I had a whole spiel lined up about what a special, amazing thing you are-”

“Okay, okay, enough.” Aiden laughs, bowing his head, hiding his face. “Stop, please.”

“-and how being a Guardian clearly doesn’t mean automatic unhappiness,” I continue, firmly ignoring him, “Because here we are together-”

“Yeah, I’m very aware of that.” Aiden covers his eyes with his hands, then starts speaking quickly, all in a rush. “It factored into my feelings on all this, dude. Like, I just - can’t imagine any kid with you as a dad having an unhappy childhood. Guardian or not.”

I stare at him for probably a solid thirty seconds of silence, during which he still does not look up at me. Then I groan loudly, dropping my face into my hands.

“You’re gonna kill me, man,” I mumble. “Saying shit like that.”

“This is gonna kill me, when I actually process it in five or six years. Dear god.” Aiden straightens up, rubbing his eyes. “Why are we so bad at this?”

I make a pained noise, and we both burst out laughing.

Aiden stops first, smiling at me, his head tipped to the side.

“Mmm. I wish you could hear us. We sound so nice right now. Even though outwardly I’m sure it looks like we’re going through a supremely messy breakup.”

I laugh hoarsely, and press one more kiss onto his mouth. He holds me to him for a moment, then lets me go, and takes my hand.

We begin to walk again, snowflakes fluttering down on all sides, falling thicker and faster. We cross the street, heading in the approximate direction of my car.

“I bet you were a handful,” Aiden says, a block or two later. “As a kid, I mean.”

“Oh, you have no idea,” I answer, and his smile broadens.

“Tell me.”

I cast my mind around for an example.

“Well, there was this time when Kasey decided that she wanted to read every single book in the library, going in alphabetical order. I think we were - twelve? Yeah. I went with her to get the first fifteen books. We checked them out on my mom’s library card, then put them in my closet, then completely forgot about the entire thing by the next day.”

“Uh oh,” Aiden chuckles.

“Yeah. My mom doesn’t go to the library too often, so she had no idea, and then, like, three years later-”

“Three years!” Aiden sputters.

“She went to get a cookbook, and discovered that she was pretty much famous at the library for having the most fines out of anyone in Ketterbridge.”

“Oh, my god,” Aiden half-groans, half-laughs. “Yep. This all sounds about right.”

After his laughter subsides, he looks down at me thoughtfully. Like he can picture me as I was then, staggering out of the library with a stack of books in my arms, rushing after Kasey, my inhaler balanced on top of the pile.

He’s thinking about my past, but soon we both go back to thinking about our future.

“Always saw myself adopting,” Aiden says, entirely unprompted.

I try not to betray too much with my smile. “Oh, really?”

“Mhm.” He shrugs. “Thought I’d just - listen for whichever kid needed me the most.”

My heart trips over itself.

“Aiden,” I groan, pressing my face into his arm. “Okay. You actually are going to kill me. Quiet, please. At least until we get home.”

“I’m sorry,” he says, concerned. “Is that a weird thing to say? I mean, obviously, they all need - I don’t know how to explain what I mean.”

“No, don’t be sorry, you dumb, stupid idiot.” I groan again, even louder. “Dumb! Stupid! Idiot!”

Relieved, Aiden huffs out a laugh, then ruffles my hair. “Yeah, I love you, too.”

I shouldn’t be surprised that he got the message so clearly.

My Companion Plant usually knows exactly what I’m trying to say.