I twist my ring around my finger, lifting it up to the tip before sliding it back down again as I stare out into the parking lot beside the main entrance. There’s a distinctive nip of autumn in the air as a breeze fragrant with cotton candy and French fries swirls up around me. I pull the Chanel sweater closed and search the rowdy crowd for a face I’ve only ever seen on Tinder.

I love the brisk, fresh air in the fall. It’s such a clear reminder that the long and hazy days of summer are over and the bitter cold days of winter are just ahead. I could do without the winter part, if I’m honest, but autumn has such a nostalgia about it. It just transports your thoughts to other times, other places. Like when my mother was still alive and the world wasn’t so bleak. I can remember her making us natilla on the weekends when we had our huge family dinners. The mixture of all the spices and sweetness wasn’t all that different than the scents whipping around me now.

This ring, with its simple gold band and row of tiny diamonds encrusting it, once rested on her finger. It was her wedding band. I remember admiring it for hours as a young child, asking her tons of questions about their wedding and creating a fairy-tale in my mind. When she was taken from me, my father gave me her ring. He told me that it was always her wish to give it to me one day, although not under such horrific circumstances. My mind slips back to the night I was shipped away.

“Take this, Ella. Your mother, she wanted you to have it.” Tears lined his eyes as he handed me the humble band.

“No, you should keep it,” I argued in hushed whispers. The truth was, even though the ring was tiny, it carried a heavy weight. Knowing that it was on my mother’s hand when she died, it was too much for me.

“Please, Ella.” He looked over his shoulder and pleaded with me urgently. “Someday, when you and I meet again, you can give it back to me, okay? But for now, hold onto it. Keep it close to your heart. One day you’ll be happy you have something that meant so much to her.” He dropped the ring in my palm and shut my fingers tight over it before lifting me into the back of the truck and disappearing into the night.

I found out after I crossed the border that the men who killed my family found my father. They eventually ended his life too, leaving his almost unrecognizable body in the street outside our house like a head on a pike. A grim warning to anyone else who would consider crossing the Úsuga Clan.

The ring has given me a constant connection to my mother over the years. A glimmer of light shines off the modest diamonds. The same ones I stared at as a child on her finger, and feel closer to her. My father was right. I’m happy I have her ring. After I lost everything else, I still have this symbol of love that once lay on her hand.

Blinking away my tears, I tug my phone out of my bag, checking the time again and any missed messages. It’s not that he’s that late. Only ten minutes so far, but I’m already nervous that I’ve made a huge mistake by coming out here. This is so unlike me. In six years, I’ve never snuck around behind Sylvia’s back for anything. I haven’t even snuck any of the good food that she sets aside for her and Raymond in the fridge. I’ve obeyed every rule. I’ve never made a fuss or given her any reason to get rid of me. And now what am I doing? Going out on a date with a man I don’t know in clothes that aren’t mine, pretending to be someone I’m not just by how I’m dressed.

This is a mistake. I should leave.

“Hey, chiquita! Wanna check out my banana?” A young, decent looking man walks up to me with his hand on his crotch. For a brief second I blink and hope I’m not looking at Jackson. From a distance, it’s hard to see the details of his face. Plus, people put up pictures of themselves on the Internet all the time that aren’t exactly accurate. I’m relieved to see it’s not him as he approaches, but I’m so stunned by his blatant rudeness that my cheeks flush and I avert my gaze to the ground, not wanting to say anything to encourage him.

“I bet you’d love to have a big ol’ banana in your mouth, wouldn’t ya?” His breath billows over me and makes my stomach lurch. Clearly he’s been drinking. His eyes are bleary and his words reek of a mixture of alcohols.

“Sir, I’m waiting for my friend.” I try to step back, but I thump into someone and get even more flustered. I turn around and am pressed up tight to a tall, hard-bodied man with gun-metal gray eyes that are intensely staring down the drunken jerk at my back.

It’s Jackson. I’ve never been so happy to see someone and so nervous at the same time. He pulls me into him, wrapping his arm around me and stepping me over to his side. His thick forearm falls so naturally around my waist. Like the curve of my hip was designed just for him.

“I’m sorry, what did you just say to my girl?” He snarls at the drunken idiot like he might just jump on him and tear his throat out with his teeth.

“Hey, man, I, uh, I was just playing.” The walking liquor cabinet holds up his hands like he’s ready to go off with the police peacefully and he slowly steps back away from us.

“Get out of here and don’t let me see you around her again.” Jackson juts out his jaw, narrowing his eyes.

The drunken banana man twists on his heel and takes off. Why are the biggest talkers always the biggest cowards?

Gratitude swells up inside me as my heartbeat thuds out of control in my chest. “Thank you,” I whisper.

“I know that’s not the best way to introduce myself. Sorry about that. I just hate that crap. I was never a big fan of guys like that, but now that I have a daughter, it makes me crazy,” he explains as he drops his arm from my waist.

“Don’t apologize.” I find myself wishing he’d pull me back in close. That he’d keep holding me tight against him, protectively showing the world he’s not afraid to take on anyone to keep me safe.

“I’m Jackson.” His eyes twinkle as he holds out his hand.

“Ella.” I shake it with a smile. Maybe this wasn’t such a bad idea after all. Maybe this is the magical night I’ve been craving for all these years.