For All You Have Left

Chapter Thirty-One The Ring

“Hey,” I say, setting my bag onto the wooden slats of the patio.

It’s beautiful outside. There’s a cool breeze in the air, but the sun is warm — a sign autumn will soon be here. I’m convinced that early afternoons like this were made for having coffee on The Coffee Cup patio.

“I got you your drink,” Amsel says, eyeing a cup of coffee sitting on the table. “Extra cream. It’s already in there.”

“Thanks,” I say, shooting him a happy smile.

“Well, it’s not every day I get to steal you away — and on a Sunday,” he adds.

He lets go of a wide grin, and it seems to take over the handsome features on his face. I get lost in it for a moment, remembering a different time, before I sit down and reach for the drink.

“How was your week?” I ask, taking a sip.

“Great, actually. We landed another client Wednesday.”

My eyebrows instinctively lift. “Anyone I know?”

“Probably.”

I start to smile again.

“Federhoffer’s Deli,” he says, before I even have a chance to guess.

“Wow! So, I can expect them to go national soon?”

“Honey, I can only hope,” he says, flashing me another wide grin.

I just watch him for a second then. The way his smile is so clever, as if it holds a million thoughts; the way his starry eyes light up; and even the way he seems to always be so confident, it’s so familiar, so comforting.

“I’m really proud of you,” I say.

I set my cup down and rest my hand on his.

He stops and finds my eyes. There’s still a smile hanging on his lips, but now it’s more of a knowing smile — one that understands.

“I know we were just kids back then, but the moment I met you, I knew you were a fighter — like you’d always make it through anything that life threw at you,” I say.

He laughs. “I had to be.”

I lower my eyes and softly smile. “True,” I say, eventually lifting my gaze to his again.

He holds his stare in mine for a little longer before he speaks.

“But no kidding?” he asks.

“No, really,” I assure him, nodding my head. “I always believed you were a fighter.”

“Really? Because I’ve always thought that about you, Logan — Ada,” he quickly corrects.

My smile fades a little but ultimately stays.

“It’s fine,” I say. “I don’t mind the name so much coming from you.”

He squeezes my hand before I notice his gaze fall to my ring finger.

“The ring,” he says.

I’m not sure if his statement is a question or just an observation. I pretend it’s a question, though.

“I wear it sometimes,” I say softly, lowering my eyes. “That doesn’t make me crazy, does it?”

After a moment, I slowly lift my gaze to his and catch him shaking his head.

“Deep down, we’re all some kind of crazy, Ada.”

I laugh to myself. “Good answer.”

He laughs too, but then the soothing hitches in his voice start to fade, and his familiar eyes spear mine.

“Someday, you won’t feel the need to wear it anymore,” he says.

I let go of a soft sigh. “It’s still hard sometimes to imagine a day like that,” I admit, looking at him now through hooded eyes.

I feel his hand squeeze mine a little tighter.

“Ada?”

Suddenly, there’s a familiar voice cutting through our conversation, and immediately, it stops me cold.

My breath catches, and I look up to see a man holding a bag of M&M’s. And behind him, I can see the little gas station sign, glaring at me. And then it hits me — it’s Sunday.

I’m frozen. I watch Jorgen’s eyes fall to my hand, cradled in Amsel’s. And in plain sight, is the ring on my finger.

“I think we’ve met before,” Jorgen says, turning his attention to Amsel.

I quickly take back my hand from Amsel.

“Jorgen,” I manage to get out. “This is Amsel. He’s… uh…”

I stop. I can’t say it. I just can’t get the words out.

Jorgen glances at me and then looks back at Amsel. “Jorgen,” he says, extending his hand.

Amsel looks slightly confused, but he offers his hand and forces a smile nonetheless. Jorgen, however, doesn’t even make an effort to smile.

“I’m Ada’s next door neighbor,” Jorgen says.

I cringe on the inside by the reference. I’m more than his next door neighbor.

“Oh,” Amsel says, nodding his head.

It seems as though it just clicks for Amsel. His eyes widen and then quickly snap back to mine.

I try to smile, but there are too many thoughts running together in my mind. Jorgen’s here, and Amsel’s here, and I’m wearing a wedding ring, and two seconds ago, my hand was in Amsel’s. I don’t even know where to begin.

“I’ll…uh,” Amsel starts. His eyes trail back to Jorgen. “I’ll just call you later. Okay, Logan?”

I manage a nod. And then, Amsel’s gone.

I close my eyes. I want to open them and realize that this was all a dream — one big, awful nightmare. I feel the tears building. I try to push them back. I have to be a big girl. I have to face this. I have to finally face this.

I open my eyes to Jorgen’s blue gaze. He hasn’t moved an inch, and now his piercing stare is leaving a trail of hurt in my own.

“Jorgen,” I start to explain. “I know what this must look like.”

He’s shaking his head, and I don’t think I can fight back the tears anymore.

“Who are you…Logan?”

His words — my own name — hit my ears so coldly.

I close my eyes again to try and force back the tears. Then, suddenly, I feel him brush past me, and I quickly open my eyes and turn to see him walking swiftly away.

“Jorgen,” I call after him.

He doesn’t even slow down.

Fear courses through my veins until I’m literally shaking as my next thought battles to the forefront of my mind and my heart slams hard against my chest.

I know it’s time. It’s time to tell him everything — everything I’ve been too afraid to face, everything I’ve been too afraid to say, everything I’ve been too afraid to let go of. He deserves more than only half of me. He deserves to know all of me.