“Jake, what is that?” My voice shook hard.

He seemed oblivious to my nervous dread.

“I just thought of you when I saw it.” His ears burned a little red. He pushed the box into my hands, but I dropped it twice because they were shaking so much. Finally, he just plucked it out of my hands and opened it himself. He popped the top of the box off, and there was a ring.

I felt myself freaking out. This was a lot. This was too much. Mom and Thorsten would freak. I wasn’t ready. I didn’t want to look at it.

But it didn’t have a stone or anything, and I felt a hot flush of relief about that.

“Jake…” I began, but he cut me off.

“It’s called a posey ring. People who were…in love exchanged them, like a long time ago. It says, Here is my heart, guard it well. In French. Weird, right? I didn’t even know you were going to Paris.” His laugh was nervous. He looked up into my face. “Don’t freak, Bren. It’s not like an engagement ring.”

I laughed a little breathily. “Duh. I mean, of course. We’re still in high school!” My voice sounded on the verge of hysterical.

I picked the ring out of the box carefully. It was shiny gold, the words etched around the outside; A Vila Mon Coer, Gardi Li Mo. I traced my finger over the smooth metal, loving the feel of the bumps and grooves despite my general unease about it being a ring.

I looked at it for a long time before I slipped it on the tip of my right index finger, and Jake took my hand and pushed it on all the way.

“I shouldn’t have bought that one, huh?” He held my fingertips and didn’t look up from the ring on my hand. His ring on my hand. It sent a little shiver along my neck, even as I told myself that it was silly to think that way. It was just a piece of jewelry! No big deal! No hidden meanings!

Right?

And when I looked at his face, crestfallen with worry that he’d given me the wrong gift, I stuffed all of my crazy neurosis aside and let him know that I loved how much he loved me and the way he showed me. Even if it was overwhelming sometimes.

“It’s so beautiful.” I cupped his face and kissed his gorgeous model-perfect mouth. “I love it.”

“Good.” He nodded, relieved. “I’m not great at picking out gifts.”

“Are you crazy? These are perfect. Thank you.” I waited a minute. “So, how did you pick the wording on it?”

“They had all different ones. The girl behind the counter told me what they meant. Like, I am yours, you are mine. Or, All I desire. They all made sense. This one just made the best sense. I feel like I can trust you with my heart. I guess.” He ducked his head shyly. “Jesus, Brenna, you make me say the sappiest crap.”

“You love it.” I wanted to say whatever would break the awkward energy in the air. I was about to kiss him again.

Mom and Thorsten came out just then. Jake quickly broke away from me and started picking up wrapping paper and putting it in the bag that he’d packed the gifts in. He held out a box to Thorsten, who opened it and got all excited over a little pouch of tobacco.

“My dad picked it up for me,” Jake explained. “It’s a special blend. Something they still pick by hand. Brenna told me you smoke a pipe, so I thought you might like it.”

Thorsten slapped him on the back and smiled happily. He and Mom looked at the gifts, and Mom didn’t even make a big deal out of the ring, though I caught her looking at it a few times with her mouth twisted disapprovingly. They gave Jake a new pair of riding gloves. It was the only thing I hadn’t given him for his birthday.

“These are great.” Jake turned them over in his hands. I had been with them when they bought them, so I knew they were amazing. You can buy a whole range of gloves, and, of course, Mom and Thorsten had gone to the top of the spectrum for them. He hugged Mom tightly, then bypassed Thorsten’s hand and hugged him, too.

I felt a little choked up, and I think my parents did, too. We all sat in silence for a long minute before Mom said, “Oh! Dinner!”

We went to the dining room, laughing. We all walked back and forth with food, way too much food, for the long table. Thorsten got us together and took pictures, snapping a few himself, then setting up the camera so we could all get in one together. Jake took over and made the three of us squeeze together for a family shot.

I tried to stretch the dinner out as long as I could. Jake ate so much, even Thorsten, who is a bottomless pit, was impressed. We made conversation and laughed. Mom and Thorsten drank wine and she relaxed a little, then a lot. We laughed more, and then Mom brought out dessert. It was delicious and cozy and wonderful.

Jake and I offered to clear and clean up. Mom and Thorsten went to the living room to watch an old movie on AMC.

“Wash or dry?” Jake picked up the sponge in one hand and the dishtowel in the other.

“Normally I’d pick dry.” I rubbed my chin as if I had to give this a lot of thought. “But I don’t know if I can trust you to wash the way my mom would approve of.”

“You doubt my abilities?” Jake teased.

“Definitely.” I turned the water on and started to soap everything up. I had one of my mom’s crazy aprons on, a red plaid one with a Santa head on it.

“You look really pretty.” Jake leaned one hip on the counter and took the first dish I handed him, his eyes on me the entire time.

“You just like to see me slaving over a hot sink in a crazy apron.” I stuck my tongue out at him.

“I’m gonna miss you a lot.” Jake dried the plate in his hand with his eyes down.

“I wish the timing was different.” I looked down at the food-encrusted plates in the bubbly water.

He put a hand on my shoulder and squeezed gently. “No matter when it was, I would be sad you were going. But you have to go. Every time. You can’t put this stuff off.

Sometimes I was scared Jake wasn’t going to be into what I was into. Sometimes I was really scared that I was going to outgrow him. I couldn’t really imagine anything worse than growing away from Jake, but the reality was that he and I didn’t have remotely similar goals when it came to things like travel and education. I cringed.

Was Mom right?

“Maybe next year we could go somewhere together.” I willed Jake to horn in on my get-independent plans. Did it still count as his goal if I suggested going? Was it independent if Jake came along? Was it weird to think we could pull off a European trip together? Like my mother wouldn’t freak out too much over that.

Jake looked at me for a long time. I could tell he was wrestling in his mind between the desire to do something new and all the fear that went along with doing just that. “How much money would I need?”

I shook my head. “I’ve never really paid for it when I traveled.” I felt a little embarrassed admitting that.

“Of course not.” Jake pulled his eyebrows together. “How do I get a passport? I need one, right?”

“You do.” I scrubbed the gravy boat, rinsed it, and handed it to him. “There’s an application online you can download. You have to get it notarized and get your picture put on it.”

“It doesn’t sound any harder than a driver’s license.” He made neat stacks of the dishes he dried. “So, where are we going, Bren?”

“Where do you want to go?” I squirted more dish soap into the water.

“How about Australia?” His eyes were bright as, I imagined, kangaroos and wallabies jumped through his head.

I honestly hated to shoot his wallabies but... “That’s like a twenty hour plane ride.”

“You’re kidding.” He stopped drying, and I could almost see his brain visualizing where Australia was in relation to the States.

“It’s on the other side of the world, Jake. Not that we can’t go. Maybe we should just think closer. Like Europe.” I closed my eyes and focused on the first amazing, beautiful image that popped into my head. It was Venice. “I’ve always wanted to see Italy.”