Adrian spent the next morning trying to discover where he'd first kissed his husband without making it obvious he was conducting an investigation.

"Hypothetical question," he said over breakfast. "Where would a charming, devastatingly handsome man take someone on a first date?"

Elliot didn't look up from his toast. "A mirror store?"

"Cruel."

"You asked."

Adrian tried Noah next. Noah answered on the third ring with a suspiciously delighted, "Has your husband finally thrown you out?"

"I need the location of our first date."

"You mean your first real date or the time you bought tickets to a jazz concert and forgot Elliot hates jazz?"

"I did what?"

"You spent the whole concert pretending to enjoy yourself. Elliot knew. Everybody knew."

"The real one, Noah."

Noah gave him the name of a little restaurant beside a bookstore in Portland, Oregon, where they had lived when they first met. Adrian wrote it down.

"Don't make it a performance," Noah added. "He loved you because you finally stopped performing."

That afternoon Adrian invited Elliot on a drive. He promised there would be no helicopters, surprise violinists, or seven-course tasting menus.

"You're learning," Elliot said, climbing into the passenger seat.

"I'm a remarkably quick study."

"You spent three days trying to steal me from yourself."

"One mistake. You're never letting that go."

"Never."

They drove through neighborhoods Adrian half recognized. Elliot pointed out the park where they'd once gotten caught in a sudden downpour and the grocery store where Adrian had purchased fourteen kinds of pasta.

"I didn't know which one you liked," Adrian said.

"You could have asked."

"Apparently I was courting you like an anxious medieval prince."

"An extremely wealthy medieval prince."

"Did that help?"

"Not as much as you hoped."

When they reached the restaurant, Elliot stopped outside the door. A narrow striped awning sheltered a chalkboard menu. Nothing about it was grand.

"You remembered?" he asked.

"Noah remembered. I wanted to come anyway."

Elliot took his hand. "That counts."

Inside, the owner recognized them. She had silver hair and an apron covered in flour, and she immediately demanded to know why Adrian had stayed away so long.

"I had a minor scheduling conflict," Adrian said.

Elliot squeezed his hand. "A car accident."

The woman's expression softened. She showed them to a table by the window and brought two glasses of water before they ordered.

"You sat here," Elliot said. "You were so nervous you knocked over the pepper."

"I don't get nervous."

"You apologized to the pepper shaker."

"I was raised with manners."

Elliot laughed, and Adrian felt a little of the tension leave his shoulders. He wanted this afternoon to be light, even if the past waited everywhere.

Before they left the bookstore, the owner brought them two paper cups of tea. She said she remembered the day of the first kiss because the two young men had stood in the travel aisle for nearly an hour without turning a page.

"I thought they were waiting for somebody," she said. "Turns out they were waiting for each other."

Elliot hid his face behind his cup. Adrian laughed, delighted by this unexpected witness.

"Did I look nervous?" he asked.

"Terrified," the owner said. "You kept fixing your collar."

Adrian glanced at Elliot. "Some habits survive anything."

Elliot reached up and straightened Adrian's collar, exactly as he'd done years before. Neither spoke for a moment. They didn't need to.

They ordered grilled cheese and tomato soup. Adrian made a face at the simplicity of it, then tasted the soup and immediately asked for the recipe.

"You did that last time," Elliot said.

"Did she give it to me?"

"No. You tried to buy the restaurant."

"That seems excessive."

"I stopped you."

After lunch they walked into the neighboring bookstore. Rain began to fall against the front windows. The smell of paper and coffee surrounded them.

Elliot wandered to the art shelves, trailing his fingers along the spines. Adrian followed, pretending to inspect a book about architecture.

"You don't have to recreate everything," Elliot said without turning around.

"I'm not trying to."

"You keep looking at me like you're waiting for something to happen."

Adrian closed the book. "Maybe I am."

"It might not."

"Then I'll still have had lunch with my favorite person."

Elliot turned, surprised. Adrian was pleased with himself for approximately one second before Elliot stepped closer and kissed his cheek.

"You used to say things like that," Elliot murmured.

The sound of rain grew louder. Somewhere behind them a bell chimed as another customer entered.

Adrian's gaze drifted to a narrow alcove beside the travel section. There was a wooden bench there, beneath a lamp with a crooked shade.

His breath caught.

For an instant the room seemed to tilt. Elliot stood before him, younger, wearing a dark green jacket and holding a book upside down.

Adrian heard his own laugh. He saw the rain shining on Elliot's hair. He felt the impossible certainty of wanting to kiss him and being terrified of getting it wrong.

"Adrian?" Elliot's voice came from far away.

The memory continued in sharp fragments.

Elliot looked up from the upside-down book. "Are you sure you want to kiss a man?"

The younger Adrian smiled, trying and failing to hide his nerves.

"I don't want to kiss a man. I want to kiss you."

Then there was the soft pressure of a first kiss, brief and astonishing, and Elliot laughing afterward because Adrian had forgotten to breathe.

Adrian stumbled against the shelf. Elliot caught his elbow immediately.

"Hey. Sit down. Are you dizzy?"

"No. I—wait."

Elliot guided him to the bench. Adrian closed his eyes, letting the memory settle without chasing it.

He could still see the crooked lamp. The upside-down book. Elliot's nervous smile.

"We kissed here," Adrian whispered.

Elliot went still. "What?"

"You were holding a book the wrong way. I thought you were trying to make me laugh."

Elliot covered his mouth. "I was trying to hide my face."

"You asked if I was sure."

"Adrian."

"I said I wanted to kiss you. Not anybody else. Just you."

Elliot sat beside him, eyes bright. For a long moment he seemed unable to speak.

Adrian's own eyes filled. The memory wasn't merely a picture. It carried the flutter of fear, the relief of being accepted, and the joy that followed.

"You don't have to remember it all at once," Elliot said.

"I know."

"And you don't have to prove anything."

"I know that too."

They sat together until the rain softened. Adrian asked whether Elliot wanted to go home, but Elliot shook his head.

"Can we stay a little longer?"

"As long as you want."

Adrian bought the upside-down book, although Elliot insisted it wasn't the same edition. He wrote the date inside the cover and gave it to Elliot.

"For the second first time," he said.

Elliot held it against his chest. Outside, the clouds parted enough for sunlight to reach the wet pavement.

As they stood to leave, Elliot looked at Adrian with a question he was afraid to ask. Adrian answered before he could speak.

"I remember… I remember falling in love with you."