Having grown up in Richmond, my mom and Liv made a great pair. Mom took a tour of Liv’s house, and told her stories about the previous owners and how she used to play in the attic as a girl. Still recovering from everything that had happened, we stayed close to home, eating like kings as my parents showed off their new culinary skills they’d learned from a cooking class at the retirement center.
As their time came to a close and we pulled up to the airport, my mom turned to me, her blue eyes shimmering.
“She’s lovely, Jackson. Don’t wait too long,”
“She’s a tricky one, Mom. I don’t want to scare her away,” I replied.
“Just trust me.” She winked.
After saying farewell at the airport, I thought about what she’d said the entire way home. So lost in my thoughts, I ended up passing both houses completely, Minutes later, I found myself driving through Carytown, walking by many of Liv’s favorite stores and restaurants. I decided to park and walk a bit. I wandered through some of the shops and even stopped for a cup of coffee at a small café. As I was turning the corner back toward my car after my impromptu afternoon walk, a small boutique caught my eye, begging me to take a look.
I doubled back and walked through the old antique door, knowing Liv would have a million adjectives to describe how much she loved this place.
It was small and cozy with mismatched furniture and display cabinets that all somehow seemed to go together. Local art hung on the walls while beautiful pieces of jewelry sparkled and shined under the glow of the warm lights.
“Can I help you?” an older woman asked.
She could have been Liv’s mother in another lifetime. Dressed in boho chic, she had a long brown braid going down her side with tons of bracelets and rings adorning her skin.
“I don’t know. I just kind of stumbled in,” I admitted, looking around from one case to another.
“Well, anyone in particular you had in mind when you stumbled in?” she asked, smiling.
“My girlfriend.”
Her playful grin grew warm as she watched me consider each piece with interest.
“A pair of earrings perhaps?” she suggested.
My eyes settled on the one thing I knew I wouldn’t be leaving without. “This,” I said suddenly, pointing to the emerald ring below.
“Good choice. Would you like to know how much it costs?” she asked warmly.
“No,” I answered honestly.
It wouldn’t matter. Now that I’d seen it, nothing else would match it.
“Well, at least let me tell you a bit about it. It was handmade by a local jeweler, so it’s one of a kind. The emerald is about a carat…maybe slightly more. White gold, vintage setting with pave diamond accents flanked on either side.”
“It’s perfect.”
She smiled and lingered a moment. Then, she turned to the cash register to ring me up. I handed over my credit card without a second glance at the total.
Now that I had a ring, I just had to find the right moment.
I just hoped it wasn’t too much of a wait.
It was already starting to burn a hole in my pocket.
~Liv~
“Clare, you really need to stop bringing me baked goods. I’m fine, I swear. It’s been two weeks,” I said, opening my front door wider so that she could enter.
“I know. I just can’t help it. Something happens to someone I love, and I bake. When my father died, I think the local grocery store was out of sugar for an entire week. It’s the only way I know how to deal.”
I took the mammoth plate of cookies from her hands, and it only revealed her belly to me more.
“Holy shit! Look at you!”
“I know,” she answered. “Apparently, with the third one, there’s no stopping it. That stick says positive, and bam, here comes the belly. I thought I’d have a little bit longer before I had to pull out the granny pants.”
“You look great,” I said, sneaking a few steps forward to run my hands over her swelling stomach.
It wasn’t as big as she thought it was, but she was definitely showing. As my fingers ran over her taut rounded belly, I felt longing rather than relief for the first time in my life.
“I feel awkward and large, but enough about me. I came here to shower you with sugar and see how you were doing.”
Setting the cookies down on the counter, I pulled out two mugs for tea. “Chamomile or peppermint?” I asked, lifting two small tins from the pantry.
“I want coffee,” she whined, taking a seat at the center island.
“You get chamomile or peppermint, preggo.” I laughed.
“Okay. Let’s go with peppermint.”
“Good choice.”
I heated up the water and insisted Clare first update me on her life.
“Maddie is in four dance classes. Four, Liv. I think I might go insane.” Her head dropped into her hands.
I couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re officially a dance mom now! We should make you a shirt or something.”
“Please don’t.”
“Just be glad she’s found something she loves, and she is passionate about it,” I reminded her as I poured the hot water into the mugs and left the tea to steep.
“I am. Truly. It’s been amazing to see how far she’s come since that first year when she was practicing all her positions on the new ballet barre Logan built for her. It’s just a huge commitment.”
“For everyone,” I added.
“Yes,” she agreed. “I’m hoping Ollie’s passion will be a little less involved.”
Dividing the tea into two cups, I gave her a discouraging look. “I doubt that.”
She sighed. “Me, too. He’s already learning guitar chords while sitting on Logan’s lap and throwing footballs in the backyard with Uncle Colin. I’m screwed.”
“You’re blessed,” I said, handing her a cup.
“Yeah”—she smiled—“I am.”
We sipped our tea in comfortable silence, both sneaking cookies off the tray to nibble on. The heat of the tea warmed my chilled hands, making me appreciate the crisp chill in the autumn air.
“Ever since that day, I find myself hugging my children a bit tighter in the morning and kissing them a few more times at night. It’s—”
“Scary,” I said, finishing her sentence. She nodded as I continued, “When my fingers wrapped around the door handle and it opened without force, I immediately knew something was wrong. I don’t know how many times Jackson has told Noah to make sure he locks the door the instant he gets home. Hell, he’s yelled at me about it a time or two. But nothing compares to walking into that house and finding his things scattered about while the house is completely empty.”