A little while later, we’re seated in a bright-red booth and passing our menus to the waitress after ordering our food.
Jordan, Mrs. Miller, Dan, and I jump into a fascinating discussion on how baseballs are manufactured after Dan spotsa large art piece of red, white, and blue baseballs making up an American flag on one of the walls. In a matter of minutes, we find out that Dan is a connoisseur of learning how things are made. Jordan and I even throw out some curveballs to test his knowledge on things like how bristles are put into a toothbrush or how mattresses are mass-produced. Dan knows it all.
By the end, I’m convinced Dan needs to start a podcast. Either that, or he’s got a really good shot at narrating documentaries, because his voice sounds like Mr. Carson fromDownton Abbeyminus the British accent.
We’re halfway through our food when the air vent above us decides to turn Arctic. Mrs. Miller shivers in the seat across from me. All at once, Jordan starts to stand, no doubt to aid his mom, when at the same time, Dan leans over to Mrs. Miller and says, “I’ll go get your sweater from the car.”
Dan exits our booth, heading to his car, and Jordan sits back down. A look of relief crosses his face, followed by the cutest little pout. He looks like a boy who’s been told his pie placed second at the spring fair.
I pat his knee twice under the table. “I am so cold,” I say wistfully. “I wish I had my jacket.”
Jordan looks at me with a boyish smile on his face. “On it, my lady.”
I shake my head, smiling as he scoots out of the booth and runs to fight my dragons.
“Good,” Mrs. Miller says. “While I’ve got you alone, we need to talk about something very important.”
While her words sound intimidating, the mischievous smile on her face tells me I have no reason to worry. She probably wants me to play a part in some birthday surprise for Jordan. I raise my eyebrows, completely intrigued. “Oh, yes, please,” I say before taking a sip of my water.
“What kind of engagement ring would you like?”
The water halfway down my throat bubbles up as if it, too, wants to be a part of this very out-of-the-blue conversation. “Mrs. Miller!” I blurt out. “Jordan and I…. We’ve only been…”
“Only been dating each other for years.” She raises an eyebrow as if daring me to challenge her on this. “Please. The only change between you two is that now you both know how the other feels, and you don’t act like you’ll be poisoned if you touch each other. So it’s only a matter of time, and when that time comes, I want to make sure Jordan doesn’t mess it up.”
“Mess what up?” Jordan asks, scooting into the booth and passing me my jacket, followed shortly by Dan, who mirrors us on the other side of the booth.
I start to put my jacket on. Jordan’s fingers skim the back of my neck as he gathers my hair, pulling it out from under my jacket. Goosebumps instantly spread over my skin where his fingers graze my neck.
“I was just talking to Paige about what kind of engagement ring she’d like,” Mrs. Miller deadpans.
My eyes go wide as I shrink into the booth.Oh, please, no.Suddenly, I feel like a clingy dryer sheet of a girlfriend.
Yes, Jordan. After two weeks of dating, I am talking to your mom about our nuptials. Would you like to wear a cravat at our wedding or maybe a sprig of greenery on your lapel?No, no, no. At this rate, I might as well confess to almost buying some textured drapes I saw online this week that I thought would look nice in Jordan’s living room.
I’m pondering how I would rather trade places with the crumpled napkin in my hand when I feel Jordan’s arm wrap around my shoulder, pulling me out of my spiral. “Mom, stop scaring Paige off.” He gently squeezes my shoulder before reaching for his drink on the table. “Besides, she doesn’t need to tell you about the ring she wants. I’m pretty sure I already know.”
Jordan takes a bite of a fry, oblivious to the fact that my lips gape at him with all the charm of a grouper fish. “What do you mean you already know?”
His eyes connect with mine, and suddenly, I feel like we’re the only two people in this booth, in this restaurant, in this world. He gives me the faintest of smiles. “A princess-cut diamond, with blue sapphire gemstones on both sides.” His voice is low and soft. “You want a thin band, but you’re not sure if you want gold or white gold because it depends on the current trend. Considering you wear more silver jewelry nowadays, I’d say you prefer white gold.”
“How did you know that?” I ask, shocked by how perfectly he described the engagement ring of my dreams.
“Senior year. We were at Miles’s house with Missy, and you two started making Pinterest boards on your phones. You told Missy you pinned your ideal engagement ring, and that’s when I went and sat next to you. I made sure I got a good look over your shoulder.”
I wish we were as alone as I feel right now because all I want to do is kiss him thoroughly. I know he’s told me he’s liked me for seven years, but I’ve spent those seven years thinking he didn’t like me back. I’m finding it difficult to totally undo that belief system in just two weeks. But this—this is undeniable proof that Jordan has wanted me as long and as much as I’ve wanted him.
Something warm and whole passes between us, and his fingers find mine underneath the table.
“Apparently, my son is a romantic,” Mrs. Miller chimes in.
Jordan straightens and faces his mom and Dan, an amused smile on his face. “I’m told my romantic side resembles a squirrel.”
I roll my eyes. “A cute squirrel,” I correct.
“Good girl,” Mrs. Miller says. “Keep him humble.”
At the end of the night, Jordan drives me home and walks me to my porch. I stand in the circle of his arms, wishing I didn’t have to sleep, eat, work, or do anything that isn’t with him. Because when I’m with Jordan, I feel complete.
