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She wears my wedding ring around her finger, claiming her as mine but I desire something else. Something to show herexactlyhow I feel and something she can keep by her side each time she might feel our connection slipping. Never something I intend but with the arrival of a baby and more, there’s no chance we’ll be blissful forever.
The gentle sighs of the shop assistant suggest I’m taking too long but as I wander around the inside of small private jewelers, I ignore him. He must be new since he didn't greet me by name when I entered but I have little time to correct him. My family has used this place for years so it’s only right that Cara’s gift comes from here.
Not my problem he doesn’t know who the fuck I am.
“This is all you have for promise rings?” I ask, nose wrinkling slightly as I stop in front of a display case where a select number of rings twinkle at me below the glass. Nothing jumps out at me. Nothing impressive at least and as the musty stink of the shop fills my nose, a coil of irritation rises in my chest.
I need something better. Something that says everything I can’t, something that warms her heart just at a glance when I’m not there to do it for her.
“Yes, sir,” the assistant replies in a polite, low voice. He takes a step closer, his hands clasped together just in front of his purple jacket and an ever so slight curl of his lip.
I’m not one to pull my superiority often, being unnoticed is usually what gets me far these days but in a place like this, I expect more.
“At least of the traditional kind,” the assistant continues on, droning as if the very nature of being here bores him to the core. “If you are looking for something more…personalmay I suggest that it is the act and nature of the gift rather than the item itself?”
So you can get me out of here faster?I sent the man a cool look.Trust me, I don’t want to be here any longer than I need to.
“Naturally the act itself ismoreimportant. I’m looking for something small… delicate,” I explain calmly, forcing myself to ignore how the man’s speech and gaze scratch at my skin. “Something with a mix of green and red would be ideal.”
What better to symbolize the promise of spending the rest of my days with her than that? Symbolism has never been my strong point but even as the assistant scurries towards a different display case, I know this can work. Cara deserves something special, especially since tradition lingers close to her heart if her father’s funeral was any indication.
More than my cock at least.
I track the man as he leaves my side and heads for a larger display case near the back of the room. It’s lined with gold and bright sparkling lights to make the jewels inside that little bit more appealing.
“How about this, sir?” The assistant reaches into the case and pulls a small ring out of the display, turning to me and holding the item up to the light. It’s a rose gold band with several gems set at even spaces around the band and it glints at me from its home, nestled in a white silk cushion.
“What is it?”
I may be looking for something special but that doesn’t mean I understand the world of jewels.
“Green and red isn’t a common stone combination unless you’re in the market for something festive,” the assistant explains with another lace of salt in his tone. “But if color is what you are after, this is a gorgeous Cartier.” He lets the name hang in the air for effect for a moment before he continues. “Here we have a rose gold band set with one pink sapphire, one blue sapphire, one yellow sapphire, one green garnet, one orange garnet, and one amethyst. A stunning gift to grace any dainty finger.”
He reels off the stones as if they could mean anything to me and yet as he talks, each stone could indeed represent something from each part of our lives. Myself and Cara, Dante and Sienna, Cara’s friends, and our child. It’s a sleek ring, indeed dainty like Cara and the more I stare at it, the more I picture it nestled at home on Cara’s finger.
This is it.
“Alright, I’ll take it.”
The assistant blinks owlishly up at me. “Sir, the cost is—”
“I said I’ll take it,” I snap, “you really don’t know who I am, do you?”
The man continues to stare at me until I wave a hand and he scurries over to the register.
Do I really look like I can’t afford something like this?
As I approach, Iglimpse myself in one of the elegant mirrors that decorate the shop, and in truth, clad in a white t-shirt, jeans, and a leather jacket I don’texactlylook like someone who can afford to shop here.
Still, he should know better.
The assistant scurries about the till, ringing up the gift, sliding it into a small red hexagonal box, and wrapping it quickly in white paper. As the computer dings with the total, he presses the red wax seal on top and hands me the box.
“Will that be cash or card, sir?” he asks.
“What’s your name?” I reply.
“Todd, sir.”
