Page 126 of The Fall Classic

Georgie holds it between her hands like it’s something special. Or something volatile. I can’t tell which.

Kayla tries to give Georgie her credit card to pay for the drinks, but Georgie shakes her head. “On the house,” Georgie says.

They all thank her and leave, and before the next customer can get in line, Georgie turns to me, and I’m ready to catch her the moment she throws herself into my arms, but she isn’t throwing herself anywhere. She looks like she’s trying to contain her smile.

“They were so nice to listen,” she says.

“Is everything okay in there?” I ask, rapping my knuckles on her head. “You were smart and compelling and knew your stuff! Why wouldn’t they listen?”

She takes another customer, talking to me while she makes the next two drinks. “I’m sure nothing will come of it, but I’m glad I tried.”

“Are you trying to talk yourself out of believing this will work?”

“What gave it away?” she asks with a smile, pouring steamed milk over shots of espresso.

“Georgie, it’s okay to believe things will work out.”

She blinks at me. “Isn’t that how the Tree became a stump?”

“No,” I say, watching her add a dash of cardamom to both drinks. The scent fills the air with a warm, sweet, peppery burst. “Is that what hope feels like to you?”

She shrugs and hands me the drinks, cues up the card reader, and I help finalize the sale while she takes the next customer.

“Hey, Fischer!” one of the Mudflaps’ security guards calls to me in line. “You back?”

“For rehab. But I’d gladly stay for the girl,” I tell him, nodding to Georgie.

“Don’t stay too long. The ’Birds need that knuckleball!”

“Thanks. But I’m good where I am for now. I’ll be back soon enough,” I say, lying while telling the truth. I am good where I am for now. This is exactly where I want to be. But if that’s the case, why do I feel like I’m being drawn and quartered—or halved—for everyone to see?

Maybe this is how the Tree became a stump.

“Sorry, everyone, we’ve sold out,” I call out as Georgie’s making yet another drink. “This will be the last one.”

Everyone in line grumbles, but I’m happy to be the bad guy. I look back at Georgie. “Is that okay? You’re not actually on the clock right now,” I say, feeling anxious and sick and stupid.

“No, I’m not. But we are,” she says with a half smile. “We both know this is temporary⁠—”

“It’s not,” I say, putting a lid on the drink and handing it to the customer.

“I know we’re not,” she says. She extends the card reader to the customer with a smile. And then she closes up the window and we stand, facing each other.

“Do you?”

She looks down and takes one of my hands in hers. “I know we both want that now.”

“Not now, Georgie. This isn’t temporary for me. I’ll do whatever I can to make you believe me.”

“That’s the thing,” she says. “Nothing will make me believe it. Nothing but time.”

“Then every spare second I have will be yours.”

She laughs quietly. “Or you could keep showing up when and how you can. This isn’t a you issue, Logan, it really is about time. It’s going to take me time to believe you. Does that make sense?”

I exhale in a huff. “Yeah. I just wish the season were over already.”

“I don’t. I’m excited for you.”