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He was pretty sure it had been two months since he was able to kiss his wife. She'd disappeared to New York for a while and came back exhausted. Then she was gone again. Of course, he couldn't be upset, Kenlie definitely had good reason to be gone after she explained to him why she was gone in the first place. He wished her all the luck in the world and pined for her every moment she was away. He was such a needy woman. The look on his face behind that beard was on a happy one and no amount of riding was going to melt away the stern expression.

There was too much going on anymore for him to even enjoy the current ride he was taking. He had to get out of the house or he was going to go insane. He'd been riding for at least three hours and the light on his gas tank lit up, usual indication the tank was becoming empty. Reentering the city, he headed toward the nearest station to the Handle Bar, which just so happened to sit across the street from a liquor store and a cafe slash bakery. He needed a new box of cigars. With Kenlie absent, his smoking habits had increased drastically. Smoke curled from his nostrils at the passionate thought of snipping a stogy and sitting back with a bottle of whiskey, and he hadn't lit anything. Last thing he needed was to get himself blown up at the fuel station. That'd be just his dirty rotten luck.

Cruising into the station, he opened the gas cap and filled the tank. There was a radio playing inside the store, some pretty crappy hip hop that seemed to be on broken repeat "You a hoe". And people wondered why he was into classic rock and metal. Even disco had better lyrics than this Manaj ********. He looked at the cashier and just deadpanned internally. The kid looked like he was twelve and probably not that far off. Had had piercing holes littering his face and his shirt was wrinkled. He was texting and doing what looked like a mild seizure to the music playing. Name tag read 'Trey' with the actual name 'Monterey' crossed out with a black ink pen. If Victor hadn't been turned immortal he probably would have killed himself because this sight was worse than Honey Booboo.

"Which pump?"

Victor looked out the rather large window to the pumps. There are only two. He was the only one in the store.
"Pump three." His tone of voice was monotone at best.

"Uh..we don't have a pump three , dude. Is that your ride?" The kid nodded toward THE ONLY VEHICLE ON THE LOT.

"No..pretty sure I saw Tupac riding that one. My ride is parked at your moms house." Victor dismissively tossed down a bill to cover the gas and his heavy boots carried him back out the store. He smiled at the bitching behind him. Victor really needed a smoke. Victor strode over to the liquor store, the music changing from "Talk dirty to me" to this really weird melodic of chimes and flutes. The bakery was next door. Goddamn hipsters. He was starting to feel like an old man.

And suddenly it was like his heart was going to explode with emotion. He missed Kenlie harder than when he was in the shadow realm on his honey moon. He loved and adored his daughters more than if they used to be the twinkle in his eyes. He even liked Jesse more than usual. Stepping out of the liquor store, cigars in hand, he walked over to the cafe to check out the bakery. Maybe the girls wouldn't mind something sweet to smell.

He didn't even make it to the baked goods. All he saw was brown eyes, glasses and his soulmate.

He stood there staring at her like a bearded idiot. His palms were sweaty and he rubbed them over the front of his jeans. Wow, if he could see himself in a mirror, he would have stabbed himself on principle. All of this was wrong. So wrong. He was a married man, knew that he hadn't made a mistake in choosing Kenlie. He loved her, right? Right??...

His gaze trailed over this woman's features, the shine in her eyes and how he felt like the sun blazed in them; the curve of her lips as they lifted upward in that intoxicating shy smile; the length of her neck as it sloped into a well hidden chest. The looks she was throwing at him made his jeans tighten. Guilt washed over him as he remembered he had a wife. ****, he couldn't be doing things like this, thinking these thoughts. But he ached to hold this creature in his arms and refuse to let go. His head was pounding.

"I'm Charlotte..."

WRONG! Step away, man..its not true!
She's perfect in that anarchist nerd kind of way. Take her.
No, brotha..she's not your wife. ****..what was her name her name again?
Forget her, this one is your soul mate.

Yeah, his head was having a field day. Victor knew this wasn't going to be good, knew that there was someone at home waiting for him, knew this was going to end in disaster. But there was no amount of logic and talking his way out of this that was going to make him walk out of that cafe. Not without her.

"Victor. Um..do you need help cleaning that up?" The ****? That **** wasn't his mess. But maybe she burned herself with the coffee. He rushed over in the blink of an eye and took her hand in his, looking it over. Her skin was so soft and she smelled like a Best Buy and chocolate. He paused and looked down into those coffee colored eyes. His hand lifted against his will and he let a thumb brush over her jawline. "Are you ok? Did you get burned?"