Stop. Stop noticing how the sun hits her hair. Stop looking for the color of her eyes everywhere you go. Ignore the smell of earth and honey. Stop waking up early to talk to her by the river. Stop loitering by the fence just to hear her sing. Stop. She smiles at everyone. Stop. She makes everyone feel special, that's just how she is. You are not special. Stop. She is not in love with you. You can not be in love with her. Stop.

This was the same lecture Matthew had repeated in his head since the day that he met Cecilia. It was more frantic now. It was desperate. He was desperate. He willed his eyes to stay shut. He could keep the sunlight out just a little bit longer. He let images of Cecilia dance through his mind for just one more minute. There she was talking to plants. There she was awestruck by the forest in spring. There she was dancing under the fireworks. A warmth spread across his chest. Stop.

The summer air felt heavy and hot around him. His eyes fluttered open. The farmer's soft features came into focus. She was breathing quietly, evenly. It had been a long time since he had seen her look so peaceful. Matthew wondered if that was his fault. It probably was.

Matthew kissed the farmer on her forehead. She smiled. Her eyes opened and her smile slipped away. She sat up and dragged herself out of bed. He watched her fill the french press. She was stiff, still angry. She tried to hide it in her usual way. She hummed while she fished some eggs out of the fridge and popped them in the cast iron. She used a kitchen towel to wipe the sweat from her forehead.

"It'll rain today." Matthew murmured as he joined her in the kitchen. He plucked a pair of mugs from the cabinet and filled them with coffee. His bones ached as he sat down at the table.

"Would you mind bringing home tomato seeds?"

Matthew sipped his coffee and grunted in response. The farmer pushed a plate of eggs in front of him and returned to the counter to eat hers. Matthew glanced at the coffee he had set across from him.

"It'll get cold," he murmured. She looked over her shoulder. Matthew tipped his head towards the coffee. The farmer nodded slowly. She picked up her plate and slipped into the other seat. She smiled. It was fake. She was straining. Cecilia's carefree smile flashed through his mind. Stop. Push it down.

"Hard to imagine anything getting cold in this weather." The farmer remarked. A silence followed.

Matthew cleared his throat and took a sip of coffee. "Uh…Thanks, by the way…for the milk you left yesterday." He scratched his head awkwardly. "It was good. Maybe the best yet."

The farmer perked up. "I added cinnamon."

"Cinnamon, huh?" Matthew mused, "not bad." The farmer blushed and looked away. She never stayed mad for long. Matthew drummed his fingers on the table. His wedding band glinted in the morning sun. He smiled to himself. Things could still be good.

"The crops are really coming up this summer." The farmer mused between bites of egg.

"Mhhmm…"

"Vesta's working you hard lately."

"It's not so bad." Matthew kept his eyes on his plate as he ate.

"It's hard enough with one plot, I can't imagine working that whole field. In this heat? And you've got the shop on top of that. Should I be packing you a bigger lunch?"

"Nah, s'okay." Matthew shrugged. "They feed us." Don't say her name, Matthew thought. He glanced up at the farmer. She looked deflated. It was obvious who did the cooking at Vesta's farm. Even without speaking it, Cecilia's name hung in the air. Matthew kicked himself for not just accepting the farmer's offer.

"But I don't know. Maybe I could use extra milk, with the cinnamon, if it's not too much trouble." Matthew added as earnestly as he could.

"Yeah…okay."

"Like I said, best I'd ever had." Matthew pushed past his usual awkwardness and forced himself to gaze into her eyes. She loved compliments on her cooking. He never told her often enough how much he appreciated her food. He swore to himself that he'd make more of an effort from now on. It really was as good as Cecilia's most of the time. And the farmer's eyes were beautiful in their own way. He felt steady and secure when she looked at him.

The farmer seemed stunned by the eye contact, like she was bowled over by his attention. Was he really so cold? He could change. He would change. Matthew gave the farmer a small smile. She looked down at her fingers awkwardly. The hint of a smile appeared on her face.

"So I was thinking about a picnic for tonight." The farmer's voice was soft, she seemed hesitant.

"Tonight?"

"Yes, tonight."

"Tonights no good. Vesta wants me late."

Matthew heard something clatter. He looked up at the farmer. Her fork had slipped out of her hand and onto the table. She looked pained, like she was holding something back. Anger? Tears?

"What?" Matthew tried to suppress the hint of irritation growing in him. Things would be better for them if she just said what she meant. The farmer looked past Matthew. He followed her gaze to the calendar. His irritation melted away, replaced by panic and a pang of regret. "Fuck."

"Really? Our anniversary?" She didn't sound angry, she was pleading. Matthew would have preferred anger. He looked back at his wife. Her eyes were wide. Her mouth was pulled into a tight line. The corners of her lips were twitching down like they always did when she tried not to cry.

"I'm sorry. Fuck…no, sorry." Matthew pushed his chair away from the table and rushed to the bed stand. "Listen," he rummaged through the drawer until he found a necklace. He spun around and held it up for her. The stones shimmered in the sunlight. He had fastened each stone with wire.

"You kept those?" The farmer whispered, her voice wistful.

Matthew tried to hide his blush by tilting his head down. They had been picking out stones since their first date. He had been so reserved back then, it'd been a good way to keep the conversation going. They'd comb through the sand or fish stones out of the river.

"So I forgot the date…there's no excuse for that. But I…" Matthew mumbled as he walked slowly towards the farmer. There was forgiveness in her eyes. He sighed with relief. She turned around and let him fasten the wire around her neck. She touched the stones gently. Even without seeing her face, he could tell she was truly smiling now. The farmer leaned back into his chest. Matthew stood frozen for a moment before breathing in deeply and wrapping his arms around his wife. The smell of her hair flooded his mind. It wasn't so different from Cecilia's. The rich scent of soil hung around her. He was desperate to stay in this moment. He clung to the scent of coffee and hay, to the cool feeling of the ring on his finger, to the sound of the farmer humming softly in delight. He tried not to think of earth and honey. He tried not to think of her.

"I'm sorry." Matthew kissed the top of his wife's head. "I'll try to get out of work early…I promise."

Cecilia tapped her fingers on the counter. She rested her chin on her other hand and gazed out the window. She tried not to count the minutes until he walked into view. Cecilia felt sweat drip down her arm. He hadn't been by the river this morning. He hadn't been by the river in weeks. She could accept that. He had other responsibilities now. Things were always going to change, but she never thought about what she would do when they did.

Matthew sauntered into the fields in his usual way. One look told her he'd had a rough morning. His hands were stuffed in his pockets and he was looking up at the sky. His satchel swung as he walked. Cecilia smiled to herself. For a moment she forgot he wasn't hers. He caught her eye through the window and reality sunk in. She forced herself to stay put. She wouldn't run out to meet him. She wouldn't make a fool of herself.

Cecilia busied herself by pouring milk into two glasses. She told herself it was because she was thirsty and she was just being courteous by pouring him a glass as well. She heard the bell over the door ring.

"Hey Ceci." Matthew slid past her and put his lunch in the refrigerator. She felt the back of his hand brush along her arm. Cecilia froze. Her face flushed. She silently reprimanded herself. How could she be so stupid? It was just an accidental touch. It lasted all of one breath. Why did she feel like she was going to explode? She kept her eyes on the window so that Matthew couldn't see her expression. She felt him pluck a glass of milk out of her hand. She turned back. He was smiling. She smiled despite herself.

"Morning!" She chirped. Matthew leaned on the counter and sipped his milk. He was already lost in thought again. She'd watched this scene hundreds of times. For a moment she was seventeen again, marveling at this serious man. She went through the motions, following the rest of their daily script, the same this morning as it was at seventeen. She started counting the seed pouches out loud, Matthew restocked the pouches according to her numbers. He reached for the cash register over the oven, Cecilia recorded their starting amount. Cecilia swept the floor and Matthew opened the windows. They moved around the room in a familiar way. How could something be so easy and so painful? She made a conscious effort to stay at least a foot away from Matthew. It had always been part of their dance. Accidental brushes were enough. Cecilia thought she might actually die if he put his arms around her.

A soothing silence fell over them. It was moments like this that Cecilia wished could extend on forever. No past, no future, just the two of them and the quiet of the shop. The light bounced off the tin watering cans, the floorboards creaked, and the wind whistled lightly through the open window. They exchanged comfortable glances between tasks. Occasionally Cecilia would hum a tune and every once in a while Matthew would join in. She knew the heat would become oppressive by noon, but right now she felt alive in the way only a summer morning can bring about. She didn't need a happy ending with him, there didn't need to be a story at all, just this moment.

"I never thought marriage would be this difficult." Matthew muttered to himself while wiping down the counters. Cecilia's breath caught. This wasn't part of their routine. She composed herself and looked up from where she was organizing pots. It was clear from the uncomfortable look on Matthew's face that he hadn't meant to say it out loud. Cecilia considered pretending it hadn't happened, but they had already locked eyes. He knew she'd heard.

"Well, they're always saying relationships are hard work." Cecilia bit her lip and looked down. She focused on stacking one pot into another and another and another. "Right, Matt?"

"Mhmm." Matthew grunted. Cecilia felt sick. She risked a glance at Matthew. He looked pained. She was sure she'd never seen him so sad. His mouth was pulled into a hard line. His eyes were set on the fields, his hands mindlessly crumpled the dirty rag.

"But it's good work right?" Cecilia hoped. She wasn't sure what she was hoping for. She thought of the farmer making her rounds, bringing Cecilia flowers with a blissful smile. It had been a long time since Cecilia had seen the farmer smile like that. Her throat felt like it was closing in on itself.

Matthew pulled the rag left and right. He frowned. His eyes stayed fixed on the window. It was like he was searching for something in the fields. He nodded to himself for a little longer than seemed normal then he met her eye for a moment, too quick to really register. "Sure."

"Vegetables are hard work too. You have to learn how much water and sun they need. You have to trim them, keep away the bugs and mold, and after all that a storm can still plow through and kill half your crops." Words spilled out of Cecilia's mouth faster than she could think. She wasn't sure if she was making any sense.

Matthew was looking past her now. He was grimacing in the way he always did when he was trying not to say something.

"But when you get that harvest: juicy tomatoes, spicy peppers, big ol' apples!" Cecilia rambled. Her face felt hot. "It's all worth it!"

Matthew nodded again, this time with a hint of conviction. Cecilia's words seemed to make an impact, she wasn't sure if she was about to sigh in relief or cry. She put all her energy into staying still as stone.

"I don't know," Cecilia mumbled. "I don't really know much about love."

"Whatever happened with that boy Vesta wanted to set you up with?" Matthew was looking at her directly now. She wondered how such intense eyes could seem so soft and familiar to her? Cecilia blushed under the weight of his stare.

"Oh I don't know, an arranged marriage? It felt silly. He seemed real sweet, but I want to really know someone, know someone like the back of my hand, if I'm going to marry them." Cecilia chewed on her lip for a moment before speaking again. "Is that silly?"

"No." Matthew left the rag on the counter and strode over to the stack of pots and helped Cecilia lift one of the bigger pots onto the top shelf. Cecilia kneeled next to the stack and passed him a smaller pot. "Have you ever felt like that?" Matthew mumbled. He glanced down at her while he cleared a spot on the shelf.

Cecilia handed him another pot. "Like…the back of my hand stuff?" She asked softly.

Matthew moved the last of the pots onto the shelves quietly. Cecilia searched his face. His brow was furrowed, he seemed to be avoiding eye contact now. He wiped sweat off his forehead with his sleeve.

"Have you?" Her voice wavered.

Matthew sighed. He rubbed his chin. He seemed deep in thought. "Sure." He reached out his hand to help Cecilia up without looking at her.

"Sure." Cecilia whispered. She took a moment to memorize the lines and calluses on his hand before letting her fingers wrap around his. She clamped her eyes shut for a split second while she stood up. Just the warmth of his palm was too much. She was almost sure his fingers lingered after she was upright, but it must have been a trick of her imagination. His hands were in his pockets again. The warmth was gone, the absence tore into her.

On instinct Cecilia started to reach towards Matthew, then she thought better of it. She pulled her hand into chest as she turned away. Matthew shocked her by grasping her wrist. Startled, she turned back to him, searching his face for some direction. He stared at her expectantly. A jolt washed over her followed by an unexpected sense of calm. Birds twittered on the fence outside. The warm sun kissed her face. A gentle quiet settled over them. Slowly and then all at once Cecilia knew what she had to do.

"I…It's you," she whispered.

Matthew nodded hesitantly. He wore a sort of melancholy, wistful smile.

"The-the back of my hand stuff." Cecilia held his gaze as she spoke. She could do it just for this minute, just this last time.

"I know."

"You know?"

"I know you." His words were soft and sad.

Cecilia looked down. She studied the area where his fingers met her wrist. The farmer's face flashed through her mind. Cecilia thought of her friend eagerly plotting out how to invite Matthew to the firework festival. She thought of the long afternoons they spent analyzing Matthew's stray touches and unexpected smiles, the farmer gushing over his every move. She thought of Matthew beaming at the end of the aisle on his wedding day. She thought that she couldn't love him if he went any further, no matter how much she wanted him to.

As if reading her mind Matthew released her and took a step back. I love you, she thought. Part of her longed to utter the words, at least once, just to hear it in the air. She could feel them on her tongue. She marveled at his clear blue eyes, crinkled in worry. His lips were parted slightly, she knew in her bones he faced the same dilemma. Love hung in every inch between them. All at once words seemed redundant.

The farmer smoothed out the wrinkles in the picnic blanket. She dug her heels into the sand and sighed. Her clothes clung to her skin. Sweat dripped down her neck. She felt like a sticky, uncomfortable mess. The heat was torture even as the sun dipped below the horizon. He was supposed to be here an hour ago. She'd spent too many evenings waiting by Vesta's fence for Matthew to stroll home. She wasn't going to make a fool of herself again tonight.

Waiting: a daily occurrence. Watching clocks, windows, and telephones. Tapping her foot, biting her lip. Waiting to hear his footsteps on the front steps. Waiting for him to laugh at her jokes. Waiting for a compliment, a blunt comment, any kind acknowledgement at all. Waiting with dread for the moment her name came up. It always came up. She could hear "Cecilia" on his lips before a sound was uttered, before his sentence started.

The farmer reached into her picnic basket and plucked out a sandwich. She could only wait so long. She took a bite of the sandwich and chewed thoughtfully. She had packed turkey and cheddar because he preferred it. Another regret.

Sometimes the farmer wondered if she was the villain in their story. Had she robbed them? His shy blushes had seemed so genuine when he courted her. He had courted her, right? The farmer thought about nights spent sprawled out on hillsides with Matthew. Starlight would bounce off of Matthew beer bottles. His low, soft chuckle could make her heart skip a beat. Had he ever actually initiated plans? It had been her, palms sweaty, heart racing, handing him a blue feather. Had she been blinded by her excitement?

The farmer finished her sandwich and held her ring up to the moonlight. She thought of Cecilia smiling sweetly, eyes brimming with tears on the farmer's wedding day. Even then the farmer knew they weren't tears of joy. But Cecilia had been so encouraging, it was easy to pretend. It wasn't that the farmer wanted to hurt her friend, but Cecilia had hid it all so conveniently. Cecilia had eagerly packaged her love in good advice and unabashed support. All the farmer had to do was believe in the charade. She paid for it now.

Sand crunched behind her. She didn't bother to look.

"Any left?" Matthew drawled.

The farmer held the spare sandwich over her shoulder. Matthew picked it out of her hands. Finally, the farmer stared up at her husband. He stooped down as if he was going to kiss her, then halted. She grimaced and Matthew leaned back on his heels.

"Thanks." He walked towards the shore line as he unwrapped his sandwich. The farmer touched her necklace. The cool smooth stones were a relief to her fingers. Matthew and the farmer studied the water silently. Dark clouds were gathering at the horizon line, a faint promise of salvation from this heat.

"When did you know you loved me?"

"Huh?" Matthew glanced back, frowning.

"When did you know that you loved me?"

Matthew finished his sandwich and stuffed his fists into his pockets, wrapper and all. He paced along the water's edge. His frown turned to a small smile and then reverted. He slowed his step and pivoted towards the farmer. He slumped into the sand next to his wife with a thoughtful hum.

"I guess when you cried during the Starry Night festival," he said softly. He reached out a hand gingerly and rubbed a stone from the necklace between his fingers.

"Tears did it for you?" the farmer nudged Matthew's shoulder. He let go of the necklace. They shared a half hearted smirk.

"No. It wasn't the tears," Matthew chuckled. His laugh sounded sad and hollow, nothing like the laugh she used to hear when they'd sneak up to the hill all those summer's ago. The farmer watched her husband fidget uncomfortably and look up at the stars. The farmer could almost swear tears were collecting in Matthew's eyes, but it could have been a trick of the light.

"Well not really. It's just, the roast was burned and you were making that sandwich and you were crying, and rambling. I'd never seen that side of you. It scared me. But then it didn't and I loved you." He smiled to himself. She could just make out tears spilling down his cheeks. She felt her own streaking silently down her face.

"Just like that?" the farmer whispered.

"Just like that." Matthew glanced over at her and then fixed his gaze on the ground.

"It was nice." Her words were barely a breath.

"Crying?" Matthew drew circles in the sand.

"Back then. It was nice back then." The farmer didn't bother to wipe her tears away. Lightning struck on the horizon. They didn't move. The farmer sighed, "we were sweet."

"Yeah."

"We can't keep doing this." Disbelief washed over her as she heard the words come out of her mouth. She had imagined saying this hundreds of times in a hundred different ways and yet it still felt like a shock to hear out loud. Matthew looked up with a start.

"What?" He choked back a sob.

"Are you serious?" the farmer probed gently. With each passing second disbelief faded into acceptance. Her chest felt tight and then weightless. She could see the change coming over Matthew as well. He buried his face in his hands for a moment before sighing and meeting her eyes. It was too dark to make out his exact expression but his tears sparked against the starlight.

"I know," he mumbled. "I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry."

"I tried-"

"I know."

"I swear I never-" Matthew started to ramble before the farmer cut him off.

"I know," she whispered. She looked away. She didn't want to know if he looked sincere. She didn't know what would be more painful, ending it now knowing he had strayed or that he never would. She let Matthew sob softly next to her. She looked up at the sky and watched clouds blot out the stars. Finally the sticky humid air was cut with raindrops. The farmer let her head rest on her husband's shoulder. His chest heaved up and down unevenly. She could feel his tears mingling with her own until it might as well have been rain.

"What if we were back then for one more night?" Matthew pleaded softly. He seemed to be begging something beyond her.

"Okay," she breathed. She could almost see that Starry Night playing on the horizon line.

"Okay," he said with a raspy sigh, "Happy Anniversary."

"Happy Anniversary."