by Cassia Leo
After graduation, Troy used half his money to get a new car. Three weeks before graduation, I used about three-quarters of my earnings to buy this ring for Rory. I kept worrying about what would happen to us once I graduated and moved two hours away to start the brewery. I foolishly thought that an engagement ring would keep her committed to me while we were apart. But I didn’t know how us staying together would work, logistically. I knew I could never go back to McMinnville with her. And I couldn’t expect her to always visit her parents alone. So I kept the ring tucked away until I could figure it out.
Then a week later, she told me she was pregnant and I almost went through with it. I almost proposed. But I couldn’t do it. Not to myself. Not to Hallie. And especially not to Rory.
“Hey, man. What are you doing?”
The sound of Troy’s voice startles me and I drop the box into my lap. The ring and the flash drive tumble out and onto the wood floor. Troy’s eyes immediately lock on the ring and I quickly get on my knees to retrieve it from beneath the desk.
“What’s that? Renewing your vows with Contessa already?”
I bump my head on the glass as I get up. “Fuck. No, this is nothing. It’s old.” I drop the ring into the box and hastily put the lid back on. “What are you doing here?”
He has one eyebrow raised as he fixes me with a stop-bullshitting-me stare.
I sigh as I set the box on my lap to semi-hide it from Troy. “It’s a ring I got for Rory… a long time ago.”
“And you still have it?” he says, taking a seat in a chair on the other side of the desk.
I think of lying to him and saying the jeweler wouldn’t let me return it, but that’s such a load of crap. I don’t think a kindergartner would believe that.
“I ran into her,” I say as casually as I can.
“Who, Rory?”
I nod and he lets out a soft chuckle.
“Wow. Is she living in Portland?” he asks, his eyebrows perking up with curiosity.
I nod again as I place the metal box back on the desk. “I’m gonna be working with her.”
“What the fuck? Did you hire her?”
“No! No, it’s nothing like that. It’s that wine bar.”
“The contract we signed on Friday?”
“Yeah, she works at the market.”
“Well, I’ll be.” Troy lets out a cackle of laughter as he smacks his knee. “There you fuckin’ go, man. That’s your ticket out. Now you can kick Contessa to the curb and get back with Rory.”
“What the fuck are you talking about? I’m not going to divorce my wife because I ran into my ex-girlfriend.”
“Then why the fuck are you sitting alone in your office staring at a ring you bought five years ago? Because if you’re not planning on doing something with that ring, then that just seems pathetic.”
I shake my head. “One of these days I’m gonna build a balcony just so I can throw you off.”
“Yeah, yeah. Don’t get mad at me. You’re the one sitting here pining for a girl you could probably still have in a heartbeat. Unless she’s with someone else. Is that what it is?”
“I don’t know.”
“Then find out.” He stands from the chair and heads for the door. “I don’t know much about relationships, but I know I’ve never seen you as miserable as you were when you two broke up. And I know I’ve never seen you as happy with Tessa as you were with Rory.”
“Now you’re calling her Tessa?”
“I’m trying to be serious. But whatever, dude. Do what you gotta do. I just came in to get my racket. Meeting Joey at the gym. Wanna come?”
“Nah, I’m good. I’m just gonna sit here and stare pathetically at this ring a bit longer.”
He shrugs. “The lube is in my top drawer. Don’t use it all.”
“You take it. You’ll need it when Joey makes you his bitch.”
Troy walks away cackling and I lean forward to stare into the shallow depths of the tin box. He’s right. Staring at this ring is pathetic.
But I can’t keep it. It doesn’t belong to me.
It’s time to give it to its rightful owner.
13. Tessa
August 18th
* * *
Kendra’s apartment is exactly the same as ours. The same two bedrooms with windows; her windows face the courtyard while ours face Savier Street. The same concrete counters and black kitchen cabinets. The same layout and, oddly enough, it even smells the same since she gifted me the same scented oil diffuser she uses. The one major difference is that her apartment is overrun with baby gear.
You walk in the door and, if you’re not paying attention, you’ll bump into the black stroller with the lime-green polka-dots. Her kitchen sink is always piled high with baby-food containers that she sterilized and set out to dry. I’ve never understood how they’re supposed to remain sterile while drying in that dish rack. Her living room is cramped by a playpen and, half the time, her coffee table is pushed against the wall under the window so eight-month-old Trucker can crawl around without knocking his head on the furniture.
I take a seat on Kendra’s overstuffed sofa and try not to stare at Trucker in his high chair. He has Kendra’s dark hair and gray eyes, but his face is round and bright, just like Kendra’s husband, Aaron. Aaron is a great guy, but he can be a bit abrasive sometimes, like Kendra. The few times Kendra has tried to get him to hang out with Houston and me, he accused her of trying to set him up on an adult playdate. Kendra gave up trying to force us into a four-way friendship months ago.
“So, I had to go to Aaron’s cousin’s house in Salem for a birthday party this weekend. So trashy. I swear, it’s like I married the only sane person in that whole family. How was your weekend?” Kendra asks as she shovels a spoonful of organic pureed peas into Trucker’s pursed baby lips.
I tear my eyes away from Trucker and sigh. “I told Houston I’m pregnant.”
“You’re pregnant? Already?”
“No, I lied to him.”
“You what? Why?”
I get an itch on my forearm, but I know it’s just the guilt irritating my scars, so I resist the urge to scratch. “Because I’m stupid. I thought he had found out about the appointment with the fertility clinic.”
“Because he came home early?”
“Yeah. I was convinced he had opened up my laptop and saw the website in my history. Especially because, just a few days later, we were having sex and he pulled out for the first time since I had this IUD implanted fourteen months ago.”
Kendra uses Trucker’s bib to wipe away some green goop from the corner of his mouth, then she turns to me with a very suspicious look in her eyes. “He pulled out?”
“Yeah, I know. It freaked me out. But he was acting like it was no big deal, so I accused him of cheating on me.”
“Oh, because that’s always smart.”
I lean forward and grab a travel magazine off the coffee table, which is right where it’s supposed to be today. “I know. I’ve been doing a lot of stupid things ever since I had that consultation. Dr. Menlo told me that even if I take the IUD out now, I probably won’t get pregnant for four to six months. And that’s only if we track my ovulation patterns and have sex during peak times. I can’t even get Houston to come inside me with an IUD. How am I ever supposed to have a baby?” I sigh heavily. “Why doesn’t he want to have a baby with me?”
“He doesn’t want to have a baby with anyone. You know that.”
Kendra is referring to the conversation I had with Ava Cavanaugh, Houston’s mother, shortly before Houston and I got married two years and three months ago. Houston doesn’t know his mother told me about the ex-girlfriend he got pregnant. According to Ava, they broke up right after the girl got an abortion. She wouldn’t tell me the girl’s name, but I got the feeling Ava loved her very much, which makes me even more insecure. The reason she divulged this information to me was as a cautionary tale. In other words, she was silently warning me, If Houston didn’t want children with her, then
he will definitely never want children with you.
I flip the travel magazine open to a random page and land on an advertisement for vacation rentals in Bali. “I know, but that’s what all guys think.”
“No, it’s not, Tessa. Aaron and Houston are not all guys. Besides, once Aaron found out I was pregnant, he completely flipped sides and couldn’t get enough of my juicy birth canal.”
“Ew.”
“Whatever. The point is that you have to accept that Houston doesn’t want kids. And you have to emotionally prepare for the possibility that he may leave you if you do get pregnant without his consent or if he finds out you’re bluffing about this pregnancy.”
I turn another page and roll my eyes at the happy couple pictured next to an article about chic honeymoon locations. “You’re the one who told me to get pregnant. Now you’re telling me to consider the consequences?”
“I didn’t tell you to get pregnant. All I said is that it worked for me. Results may vary. But I guess it doesn’t matter what I think ’cause Houston is the type of guy who needs to be trapped or someone else is gonna sneak in there. He’s totally Vanessa’s type: hot, rich, and married. Like, you should totally keep him away from Vanessa or she’d be all like, ‘Lawd! I’d let him ram me so hard my lunch would fall out.’”
My stomach curdles at the thought of Vanessa and Houston together. “Ugh. I hate that girl.”
Vanessa is Aaron’s sister, who likes to come over and visit Kendra every once in a while. She has a disgusting habit of dating married men. She claims it’s because she likes excitement and expensive gifts, especially when they come without commitment. I think it’s because she’s a dirty home-wrecker.
Kendra pulls Trucker out of the high chair and he flashes her a gracious smile as she balances him on her hip. His gray eyes find me across the room and I smile, though I know his eyes aren’t developed enough to see me clearly. His chubby hand smacks his mom’s chest as she clears the bowl of food from the chair.
“Settle down, Trucker.”
I set the magazine on the coffee table as I rise from the sofa. “I’ll take him so you can clean up.”
Kendra’s brow furrows with pity as I hold my hands out to her and I know what she’s thinking. And she’s right.
She hands him over and I get a weird sensation in my chest the moment his soft body is snuggled against my hip and inside the crook of my arm. Trucker reaches for my hair and I gently grab his hand to redirect his attention. He smells so soft and clean with just a hint of sweet earthiness on his breath from the baby food. He nods at me and I nod back. Kendra has been teaching him to nod and shake his head as well as a few simple phrases in sign language. I don’t know why Trucker’s nodding at me, but I’d like to think it’s because he approves of my prospects as a baby handler.
I just wish I could get Houston to feel the same.
14. Rory
August 23rd
* * *
My jaw drops when Jamie finishes making her offer. She waits patiently for me to respond, but after a couple of minutes of stunned silence, she finally has to speak.
“Is that a yes?”
“I… I can’t run a wine bar.”
“Yes, you can. If Theo can run the coffee bar, you can take over at the wine bar.”
When Jamie pulled me into her office ten minutes ago, I never imagined she’d be offering me a management position. But that’s exactly what she’s done. Assistant manager of the wine bar at the Goose Hollow location. A seven-minute walk from my apartment. And more than twice what I’m currently making.
The current assistant manager of the coffee bar, Theo, is only nineteen years old and won’t be allowed to keep the same position when it’s converted into a wine bar. He’s being promoted to Assistant Manager II of customer service. They need someone to take his place and, somehow, Jamie got it in her head that I would be perfect for this position.
“Why me? Isn’t there anyone else at the Goose Hollow store you can promote?”
“So you don’t want the promotion?”
My throat goes dry as I realize I’m botching this up. “No, I didn’t say that. I was just wondering why… I… Oh, forget it. Yes, of course I want it. Thank you so much, Jamie. This is… amazing. Thank you.”
She smiles and her crooked tooth shines under the fluorescent lighting in her office. “You’re welcome. I’m sure you’ll do great.”
She winks at me as I get up to leave and I hold in my laughter as I exit her office. Then it hits me. What if that wink was meant in a wink-wink nudge-nudge sort of way? What if she was trying to tell me something? Oh, God. What if Houston is the one who told her to give me the management position?
No, that’s crazy. As far as Jamie is concerned, Houston is just a supplier. He has no power over hiring decisions. And I’m flattering myself to think he would care enough to do something like recommending me for a management position. Besides, if he did recommend me for that promotion it was probably because he’s planning on spending less time at the Goose Hollow location. Not the other way around.
I finish out my last day as a cashier at 4:37 p.m. when Kenny arrives to start his shift. I run into him in the warehouse as he’s clocking in.
“Hey, sexy. You look happy. Did you finally get some?”
My happiness is quickly deflated when it dawns on me that I’m no longer going to see Kenny four to five times a week. “I got a promotion.”
“To what?”
“Assistant manager of the wine bar…”
Kenny’s gorgeous green eyes widen.
I continue, “In Goose Hollow. Today’s my last day here.”
“WHAT?”
“I know. I’m so sad I’m not going to see you anymore.”
“What are you talking about? You’re not getting rid of me that easily. But what in the fuckity-fuck is up with that promotion? I mean, don’t get me wrong, it’s not that you’re not qualified. You’re obviously overqualified for every position here.” He winks at me, then continues. “But isn’t a promotion like that a bit out of left field? Did you apply for the position or something?”
I shake my head. “No, I didn’t know about any of this until Jamie called me into her office this morning.”
Kenny shrugs and gives me a quick hug. “Doesn’t matter. You deserve it. And now I have an excuse to stalk you—I mean visit you at your apartment.”
“I’d love for you to visit me.” A sudden urge overcomes me and I throw my arms around him again. He chuckles and I let go quickly.
“You’re so weird, Rory.”
“In a good way?”
“In a beautiful way. I’ll call you later. You still have to tell me all about the lumberjack you went home with Sunday night.”
A chill passes through me at the mention of Liam. He called me last night as I was getting into the shower, but I didn’t call him back when I got out. I listened to his voicemail once before I deleted it, then I stared at my phone for about two hours while thinking of Houston.
My mind constantly draws back to the memory of him telling me that we would be together forever, even if we broke up. I held on to that memory like a totem of our relationship. An intangible relic. A wispy promise, easily forgotten and even more easily broken.
But we did make it back to each other, just like he said we would. Only now it’s impossible for us to be together. Yet, he seems intent on having a presence in my life as some sort of heroic chauffeur. I laugh out loud at this thought and only then do I realize I’m still standing next to Kenny in the warehouse.
He shakes his head at me. “You need to get laid, sweetheart.”
I let out a deep sigh. “Working on it.”
Every time the phone rings I become more nervous. Until I’m so nervous I feel physically sick to my stomach. Finally, on the fourth ring, Liam answers.
“Rory?”
I suck in a sharp breath and my reply comes out far too high-pitched. “Liam! Hi!”
He chuckles. “Hi. How are you
doing?”
Skippy yelps to tell me I’m scratching his head a bit too hard. “I’m fine. Just lying in bed with my dog. Wait. That sounded weird. I’m just relaxing. Yeah, that sounds better.”
“Actually, I liked the visual of you lying in bed.”
I swallow hard as I try to think of a response, but Liam laughs it off.
“Well, I could try to make some more small talk,” he says, and I sense another proposition coming, “or you can invite me over.”
“This whole dating thing is still kind of weird for me, so I’ll need you to be patient.”
“I don’t do patient,” he replies, and an awkward silence settles in between us, then he laughs. “I’m kidding. I’ve actually been sitting by my phone waiting for you to call me since I dropped you off last Sunday.”
“Who sits by their phone anymore? Doesn’t your phone sit by you?”
“I guess you’re right. I’ll have to work on the accuracy of my guilt-trip material. So how was your day?”
I sigh audibly. “Ugh. This sucks. I hate small talk.”
“When I come over, I promise I’ll only talk big.”
“Talk big? What does that mean? Are you going to make bold claims about yourself all night?”
“If that’s what you’re into. I might even back up those claims with some action.”
My face flushes with heat. “Don’t get any funny ideas, okay? I barely know you and, like I said, I’m not looking for anything serious right now.”
“That’s fine with me. We can keep our relationship strictly based on shallow sexual encounters.”
“Hanging up now.”
I stare at the phone for a second wondering if this is a good idea. I haven’t had sex with anyone since Houston. I know it’s totally lame, but he was my first. And he was so patient with me that I quickly opened up to him. Less than a month into our relationship, we were trying things some couples would consider kinky. But I always felt safe and adored when I was with Houston. The idea of having sex with someone and not feeling that way doesn’t appeal to me. I want to feel that intense emotional bond as well as the primal sexual attraction.
