Lila
Hampton, Virginia
The kitchen is filled with familiar, comforting sounds and smells.
Sizzling beef and vegetables as I chop them up for the stir-fry I’m making for dinner.
The clock ticks away the evening, but I’m not in a rush.
It’s one of those nights where everything feels easy.
I smile to myself knowing Logan will be here soon as I carefully slice through the broccoli.
The phone buzzes on the counter, and I smile when I see Mom’s name flash on the screen. With a quick swipe, I answer, pressing the speaker icon so I can continue chopping.
“Hey, kiddo,” Dad adds, his voice steady as ever. “How’s life treating you?”
“Busy, but good,” I say, stirring the pan. “Just making dinner. What about you guys?”
“We’re good,” Mom answers easily, but there’s a slight hesitation—one only noticeable because I know her so well. “Your dad refuses to slow down, as usual.”
“You know me,” he says, amusement in his voice. “Even if I wanted to, I wouldn’t.”
“Don’t tell me you’re working past midnight again,” I tease, already knowing the answer.
“Maybe,” he admits, his deep chuckle rolling through the phone. “But I’ll take a break for dinner soon, don’t worry.”
I shake my head, smiling as I drop the rice into the pot and lower the heat. “I’ll believe it when Mom confirms it.”
“So,” Mom says lightly, shifting the conversation. “Tell us what’s new with you.”
I hesitate for only a second. “Actually…I’m seeing someone.”
The words hang in the air for a beat too long. I hear the slight pause on their end too, the space where an unspoken thought lingers.
Mom recovers first. “Oh?” Her tone is interested, but there’s something else there, something careful making me realize just how long it’s been since I’ve told her about anything more than a casual date. “That’s wonderful, sweetie. He must be special.”
I steady my grip on the knife and exhale.
“Yeah,” I say, a quiet smile tugging at my lips.
“He is.” I want to say more, to tell them about the way Logan makes me feel like I belong, how we’ve settled into this natural rhythm together, how six years and an entire country weren’t enough to keep us apart. But I’ll save that for another time.
There’s another pause.
“What does he do?” Dad asks, his voice even.
“He’s a pilot,” I say simply.
Like Lincoln. I know we’re all thinking it.
Something shifts in the silence. A fraction of hesitation, barely noticeable but there.
“Ah,” Dad says, his voice unreadable. “Air Force?”
“Yeah.”
“What does he fly?” This time Dad’s voice sounds more curious than anything.
I squeeze my eyes shut in an attempt to block out the flood of hurt I know is coming. “An F-22.” I don’t elaborate further, and neither do they. But the weight of what’s unsaid settles between us.
Dad clears his throat. “Well, that’s certainly…familiar territory.”
Mom hums in agreement. “And what’s he like?” she asks gently.
I glance around the corner as the front door opens. Logan steps inside, his presence like a gravitational pull. He doesn’t say anything, crossing the room in a few quiet steps and then leaning against the doorframe to the kitchen.
“He’s kind,” I say as my green eyes find his slate ones. “Easy to be around. He listens.”
Without a word, his arms slip around my waist from behind, his body warm against mine. I suck in a breath as he pulls me close, pressing a slow, deliberate kiss to the side of my neck. I resist the urge to melt into him, not wanting to give away too much while I’m on the phone.
Mom chuckles, her voice full of knowing. “Oh, I can already tell you’re smitten.”
I roll my eyes, even as a smile tugs at my lips. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Dad chuckles. “When do we get to meet this pilot?”
I glance at Logan, who quirks an eyebrow, his lips twitching in amusement. He rests his chin on my shoulder, waiting to hear my answer, making me feel like I’m the center of his world without saying a word.
“I was thinking maybe next month?” I say carefully, trying to ignore the way my heart is hammering. “If that works for you guys.”
“We’ll make it work,” Mom says, warmth returning to her voice. “Just let us know the details.”
“Of course,” I say, but my voice wavers slightly as Logan kisses my neck again, just to mess with me. I elbow him in the ribs, earning a quiet chuckle against my skin.
“Well, I should go,” I say quickly, needing an escape. “Love you both.”
“Love you, darling,” Mom says, that familiar affection in her voice.
Dad’s voice is steady. “Take care, Lila. Love you.”
I hang up and exhale.
For a moment, I just stand there, my hands braced against the counter. Logan’s arms are still wrapped around me, his body pressed close, and I feel him smile against my hair.
“That was fun,” he murmurs, entirely too pleased with himself.
Before I can even process what’s happening, he spins me around, his lips a breath from mine as he leans down. I feel the pull of him deep in my chest. I know he’s teasing, but there’s that undeniable connection, like any space between us is never meant to stay there for long.
Logan leans in closer, his lips nearly grazing mine. "So you’re smitten, huh?" he murmurs, his voice full of mischief.
I laugh softly, reaching up to gently push him back, though my fingers linger on the solid warmth of his chest. “I think you already know exactly how I feel, Logan.”
He smirks, his eyes lighting up with that familiar spark. “Oh, I know. But I like hearing you say it.” He leans in just a little closer, his lips brushing mine with a teasing promise.
I smile. “Fine, yes. I’m smitten.” Then I press my mouth to his.