"Uncle Tor, what the hell is this thing?" I ask him from where I'm sitting on the floor next to it. "I wanted to clean around it but it weighs about a hundred pounds."
He kneels down next to me. "It's a special family tradition. Do you want to know what it is?"
"Well, now I'm intrigued, so yeah, you hafta tell me." I always want to know as much about Tor as possible because he's not like anyone else I've ever met before.
"This bottle used to belong to my great grandfather. He started putting coins in it when he was twelve years old, and when he fell in love with my great grandmother, he dumped out all the change and that's what he used to buy her engagement ring, because he didn't have much money. Then he gave the jug to my grandfather, who did the same."
I smile at him, happy that he shared such a close family memory with me. "Wow, that's pretty cool. Did your dad do the same with your mom's ring?"
"Yup, and then he gave it to me when I was fourteen. My brothers each have a bottle too, but this one here was my great grandfather’s, so it means a lot to me."
Fascinated with the romance of the tradition, I stare at the jug, wondering how many quarters and dimes are in there. One time I guessed how many jellybeans were in a bottle for a class project and was only off by two, but this is way harder.
"How much money do you think is in there?" I ask with curiosity.
"I'm not sure. A lot. A few thousand at least."
"Damn. That's going to be a big diamond."
He ruffles my hair and stands up. "I'm sure she'll be worth it. If I ever get married, that is. The bottle's almost full and I don't exactly have anyone to propose to. I hope I don't wreck the family tradition and end up with just a big bottle of money."
"I seriously doubt that."
My heart twinges with a slight beat of jealousy over the woman who will someday get to be Mrs. Toren Grace.
Tor
I see we haven't been properly introduced. I'm the asshole who broke the fragile heart of a seventeen-year-old girl by telling her she can't give me what I want and need.
The reality of it all is that I think she's probably the only woman on the planet who actually can give me everything I've ever wanted, needed, and dreamed of. Somewhere the universe fucked up big and screwed up our timing. I should have been younger. She should have been older. We should've met as strangers, bumping into each other in some random way. As I stand under the shower and let the hot water spray over me, I can see in my mind how we should have met. She'd be rushing out of the cafe, on her way to the craft store to buy parchment paper and ink the color of night for her favorite fountain pen. I'd be walking down the sidewalk, and we'd crash into each other. She'd drop her purse, and I'd bend down to help her pick up her things. There'd be a penny on the ground, and when I hand it to her, our fingers would touch. She'd look at me with those big green eyes and that shy smile of hers that fucking shatters me, and that would be the start of our forever. She'd be wearing jeans with holes in the knees, an eighties band t-shirt, little leather motorcycle boots with pink socks peeking out of the tops, and that beanie on her head with the purple heart that would eventually become mine. Her sensual cuteness would captivate me, and I'd force up the courage ask her out, afraid of never seeing this magical little creature again. She'd write her number on my hand in writing so beautiful that I'd never want to wash it off. Instead I'd take a picture of it so I can keep it forever and call it the 'the day my wife gave me her phone number'.
Why couldn't the powers that be given us that scenario?
I wonder what made little Kenzi Valentine decide I was husband material when she was just five years old. And fuck me, I think she still believes that. I can see it in her eyes in the way she looks at me like I'm the only person in the world that matters, and it literally stalls my heart. She's been committed to me in her own way for twelve years, which is twisted irony considering that no one else has been capable of that.
Stepping out of the steamy shower, I wrap a white towel around my waist and head out to the kitchen to make my morning protein shake and there she is, standing at the window in my dining room looking out at the back yard.
"What the fuck are you doing here?" I ask, and then turn to the dog, who's just sitting there acting like it's okay for anyone to waltz into our house. "And why the hell don't you bark when people come in? You suck as a dog."
He wags his tail at me and gets up to follow me to the kitchen, with the still nameless kitten right behind him like a fuzzy shadow.
"When did you get all these pets? It's like a zoo in here. My allergies are going to go crazy," she says, turning away from the window to look at me.
"I asked you a question," I repeat, taking my blender out of the cabinet.
"You've been avoiding me, so I decided to just come over."
"That's what happens when people break up, Syd. They avoid each other. Permanently."
When I turn around to get milk out of the fridge, she's leaning over the kitchen island, her cleavage spilling out of the tight black tank top she's wearing. I ignore her lame antics to get attention. That shit doesn't work with me.
"Tor, come on. We've broken up a million times, and we always get back together. Stop being a drama llama. We belong together. "
Sydni isn't the one that got away; she's the one that won't go away.
I shake my head, pour milk into the blender with my protein powder and a handful of frozen fruit, and answer her with a sarcastic laugh. "No, we don't. And you can't just be coming into my house any time you want."
"I have a key, remember?"
"Not anymore. I want it back."
"Are you serious?"
"Yeah, I am. I don't want you showing up whenever you feel like it."
She pulls her keys out of her purse and unhooks my house key, slamming it down on the countertop between us. "Here. Happy now?"
"It's a start."
"What's wrong with you? You never act like this with me."
"I know, Syd, and maybe that's been the problem. I let you have your way for too long and now I'm done." She picked the wrong day to show up and try to make amends. I have way too much on my mind already to be adding her back into the mix.
"Have my way?" she repeats. "What the hell does that mean?"
"Are we seriously going to hash this shit out again?" I press the power button and the blender starts its angry racket of mixing, drowning out her voice. She stops talking and waits until I turn it off to start up again.
"I'm going on tour soon. I'd like to work things out before I leave."
"Work what out?"
"Us." She comes around the kitchen island to stand in front of me, her long fiery red hair almost reaching to her ass now. Her makeup is flawless, as always, with thick black eyeliner lining her eyes, the color of them mocking me today. Sydni has a thing for colored contact lenses and today she chose green, making me want to pull them out of her head because they remind me of Kenzi's, only without the sparkle of the gold flecks hers have.
"There is no us anymore."
"Why not? Is there someone else?"
The thick shake goes down my throat and almost comes back up again. There's never been anyone else in the past. I focused on work, Devils’ Wolves, taking care of my family, and spending time with the someone else who I never realized was a someone else until right at this moment. The main reason I don't want to give Sydni another chance is because I don't want her anymore. I force down another gulp of the chalky drink as I face the cold hard truth - the moment I kissed Kenzi, she became the One. Maybe she always was.
"Well?" Sydni prods. "Is it Lisa?"
"No. We're just friends. I haven't even slept with her. I sleep with this dog and cat every night."
"Is that because you love me?"
"No, Syd. It's because I love myself."
She rolls her eyes at me, a gesture I despise. "You know I don't care about who you fuck, Tor. I'd only care if you had feelings for another woman. Sex isn't a threat to me, but I won't share your heart."
I stare into the fake eyes of the woman I spent years in a relationship with, wondering where we went wrong.
Downing the last of my drink, I place the cup in the sink before turning to face her again. I tighten the towel around my waist and lean back against the counter. I'd rather be having this conversation with clothes on but I know she isn't going to give me a few minutes to go get dressed. She'll follow me to the bedroom and try to divert this conversation into other oral activities to distract me.
Pushing my wet hair out of my face, I say what I should have said years ago. "Syd, I never wanted an open relationship. Ever. It's just not my thing."
"Since when? We've been this way for ten years, Tor."
I shake my head. "No. You wanted it that way. You wanted the freedom to fuck whomever you wanted while you ran around with the band and I had to stay home."
She laughs and crosses her arms. "Come on, Tor. You got to screw anyone you wanted while I was gone. We both had fun. I think, as usual, you're jealous that I'm living my dream and you gave yours up."
"One time," I admit through clenched teeth, furious over her last stab. "One fucking time I was with another woman and it made me feel sick. But you? I don't even want to know how many guys you've been with under this free-to-fuck-anyone deal you tried to rope me into just so you could suck and fuck your way across the country."
"I'm not a slut."
"Then don't act like one. I heard you slept with Vandal Valentine a while back. He's a goddamn lunatic, Syd. His cheese has completely slid off his sandwich. Ropes and chains? What the hell is wrong with you that you'd want to get in bed with that kind of crazy?"
"I wanted to try something new. I've been friends with him for years, and I trust him. It's no big deal."