He Gave Her Cash, I Gave Her a Ring
Chapter 4
“Mm.”
He let out a laugh. It was harder to hear than crying.
“So you had a backup all along, didn't you? Just waiting for me to slip up so you could walk out with a clear conscience?”
I peeled off my face mask.
“Amos, be reasonable.”
“I'm not being reasonable? You got involved with someone else, and you want me to be reasonable?”
His voice kept rising.
“What's his name? Where does he live? I'm going to find him.”
“What for?”
“I want to talk to him.”
“What do you have to say to him?”
“I want to see what he's got that made you put on his ring in three days.”
I hung up.
He called again. I blocked him.
Five minutes later, the landline in the living room rang.
My mom answered.
“It's for you. Some guy. Sounds like he's about to cry.”
I walked over and picked up the receiver.
“What do you want?”
“I want to see you.”
“I don't want to see you.”
“Just tell me one thing. Is it real? Is that ring real?”
“It's real.”
His breathing came heavy.
“Do you even know him? How long have you two known each other?”
“I've known him for ten years.”
The line went quiet.
“What's that supposed to mean?”
“I've known him for ten years. Longer than you.”
His voice shook.
“You're lying to me.”
“I'm not. We met in college. He's liked me this whole time. I just never said yes.”
“Why now? Why are you saying yes now?”
“Because I finally figured it out. Some people are worth waiting for, and some people are just there to be missed.”
He was silent for ten-odd seconds.
“Amos, are you listening?”
“I'm here.”
He hung up.
I thought that was the end of it.
At seven that evening, the doorbell rang.
I opened the door, and Amos was standing there with a bunch of flowers in his hand, his eyes red.
He'd lost weight. Three days, and he'd shrunk a whole size. He hadn't shaved, his shirt was rumpled, and there was a grease stain near the collar.
“Are you out of your mind? How did you find this place?”
“Your mom told me. I begged her for half an hour.”
I stood in the doorway and didn't let him in.
“Go home.”
“I'm not going home.”
He took half a step forward. “Just hear me out. I know I was wrong. I shouldn't have gone to the movies with her, shouldn't have lent her the money, shouldn't have stayed at work and never come home. You were right about all of it. I just didn't appreciate you.”
“It's no use saying any of this now.”
“I know it's no use, but I have to say it.”
He drew a deep breath. “I love you.”
I froze for a second.
“What did you say?”
“I love you. I've never said that to anyone in my life. You're the first. Please. Don't marry someone else.”
His eyes went red, and the flowers trembled in his hand.
I looked at that face of his. A few seconds.
Then I laughed.
“Amos, you said it too late.”
Someone came up behind me, a hand settling on my waist.
Max Dickerson had appeared behind me at some point, in his loungewear, his hair still wet, like he'd just gotten out of the shower.
He glanced at Amos and spoke, not loudly.
“Who's this?”
Amos stared at the hand on my waist, frozen in place like he'd been nailed there.
The color drained from his face.
The flowers dropped to the floor.
Max looked down at the bouquet, then back at Amos, his tone flat.
“Oh. So you're the one.”
“The man who wasn't quite up to it……”
Max's hand was still resting on my waist.
Amos stared at that hand, his eyes rimmed red, his throat working once.
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