Page 21 of One Little Chance
Jordan covered my hand with his. “I’m glad you came back, too.” Then he added, “And I’m proud of you for facing all the stuff you’d been running from.”
“Me too.” I toyed with my cloth napkin. “It’s something I had to do on my own, away from all my crutches.”
Jordan cleared his throat. “Sophia Rogers always wants to do it on her own.”
“Ihadto do that on my own. But I realized I don’twantto do everything alone. I missed the people here. So I came home, didn’t I?”
Through a dry laugh, Jordan said, “Yes, and you have remarkable timing. You came back right when I needed some Sophie in my life.”
Was that all?He just needed some Sophie a couple weeks ago? A tiny fix. While I feel like I’ve been needing Jordan since we were racing down our childhood streets. Since he carried me across the finish line. Since he kissed me under the mistletoe.
He was wrong thinking I had to do everything on my own. I needed to grow up and prove to myself I could do things on my own after growing up feeling like he was a fact of my life in the way my eyes were brown. Needing Jordan felt like part of my DNA.
There was some friendly group chatter. Some laughter. People got up to leave, waved goodbye, and kissed cheeks. Ray and Simone were going for coffee down the block. They didn’t invite us, and we wouldn’t have joined. We stayed.
Waiters came and pulled our tables apart. Jordan ordered us dessert and more drinks. We kept talking. My heart fizzed like champagne in a flute.
I was telling him about my last teaching job when I spotted Emma, Jordan’s ex, and Gabriel,together again, at the bar.Please leave,I silently prayed. I was wrapped up in Jordan’s attention like a cozy coat I had to myself right now, and I didn’t want to share.
Gabriel and I exchanged glances. Jordan was searching for a photo on his phone to show me, and I unabashedly gave Gabriel a look of complete horror that he was here. He didn’t seem thrilled to see Jordan and me either.
I saw him swallow and then turn to Emma.
Moments later, with a wine bottle in tow, they left the restaurant giggling.Jordan was in a single support group tonight, and Emma was on a date, I thought a little judgmentally.
But then, I looked around the table… It was only Jordan and me sharing dessert alone at a candlelit table, cheeks flushed and sharing stories. This wasn’t a date, but it wassomething. And I wouldn’t leave the table until he did.
“We talked about the past,” Jordan said, sliding his fork through our chocolate cake. “Tell me about your future. What do you want the next decade to look like?”
I felt myself smiling. “Honestly, now that I’m nearly thirty, I’m not going to pretend about what I want anymore. I want the cozy Hallmark story. I want the loud kids in the house. A husband who makes us breakfast on the weekend. I want piles of laundry to gripe about. I want to make lessons while my husband rubs my feet, and we watch a movie. I want the family, the dog, the house.” I imagined the house we used to dream of, but I didn’t tell him that part. “I want the sappy, Hallmark stuff.I just do.”
He took in a deep breath. “I want that, too.”
A candle flickered on the table and cast shadows on Jordan’s elbows resting on the table. Something had crumbled between us weeks ago.
“You want piles of laundry?” I tried to make a joke.
“I’m not afraid of laundry. Or rubbing feet.”Was he talking about my laundry, my feet?I almost asked, but there was still a delicate history between us. Something to handle with care.
We didn’t leave until the waiters began sweeping the floors and locking the doors. Until they told us they were closing soon.
I bundled my coat in the darkened restaurant.
“Wow, I didn’t realize this would be such a late night.” Jordan patted his pockets making sure he had his wallet and keys.
“Me neither.” I followed him to the door.
The server unlocked it for us, urging us to “Stay dry.”
We stepped out into the pouring rain. The sidewalks cleared of people with everyone taking cover. Storm and streetlights and us.
Jordan squinted through the water. “I’m glad we ran into each other,” he said, his voice raised over the downpour. “Glad we got to spend another Valentine’s Day together.”
“Me too,” I nearly shouted. I raised an arm over my face so I could look up at him. His hazel eyes looked amber, and his sandy hair soaked. He was so much better than my memories.
“It’s nice to know you’re doing well back home. Back here.” He took a step closer to me. “You know, we could hang out sometimes?”
“Not just keep running into each other?” I said trying to smile, my teeth starting to chatter from the cold seeping through my wet clothes.
