“I missed my own cup,” she said.

“Your cup?”

“The blue one with the chip.

You always give me the fancy mug at your house.”

I laughed.

Then I helped her settle, said I would call that evening, and left without making her feel guilty for wanting her own space.

Back at home, Lucas and I sat on the porch where the maple now cast real shade across the steps.

“I’ve been thinking,” he said.