Although it's been a while, she still misses him.

Still misses the scruff on his neck and chin. Misses his musky, earthy smell he always, always had. Misses the little tentative smirk he gives her when he knows he's right. Misses his slight accent, thickening his words just so. Misses his lips on hers, though it only happened a few brief times. Misses seeing him in Granny's, or the office, or around town.

She wishes she had realized her true feelings for him earlier instead of mere moments before he died. Maybe then they could have been happy, even if just for a while. Maybe things could have looked up for them, together.

But what happened, happened. Graham is dead, and (probably— Emma doesn't know what she believes is possible anymore) never to return again. She's not going to let it burden her. She is going to keep the town in order and take care of her son. She is going to continue with her life.

But, no matter what she busies herself with, no matter how long she waits, there will always be a part of her that still misses Graham.