Page 72 of Tenure

“Are you having a midlife crisis?”

“Probably. But she’s stuck with me for it, so . . .”

Gerald sighs and opens his desk drawer, pulls out a bottle of Woodford Reserve and two glasses, and pours us each a finger.

“To your impending nuptials,” he says, looking genuinely flabbergasted. “For better or for worse.”

“Definitely for better,” I say, and we both knock back our glass.

“Stop punching people then,” he grumbles.

50

Kiernan

I do come home eventually, for clothes and my laptop and other personal shit. But my bed doesn’t smell like him, and I can’t sleep.

Are you up?

No

Don’t be a dick

Don’t text me at 2am and expect me to be nice

It’s called do not disturb, asshole

I like your asshole

Goodnight

Are YOU up?

Shut up

Want me to come get you?

It’s 2am

I’m on my way

I squeal with delight when his car pulls into the driveway, throw open the front door, and toss myself at him, loudly smooching his cheeks and mouth. When he finally slides me against his body to put me down, I can feel his cock pressing into my belly. He huffs a little, like he’s restraining himself, but he takes my bag and tosses it in the back seat, nodding at the front door.

“Lock up,” he says.

“You sure you want me to stay over? You aren’t sick of me yet?”

“Kiernan?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m not doing this again.”

“Doing what?”

“Coming here at two a.m.”

“I didn’taskyou to—”

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