Page 119 of Kismet

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The plane just landed, and my heart is pounding in my chest. I’ve spent half the flight sleeping, the other half obsessing over what I’m going to say to Stone when I see him. Icouldjust plain and simply say, “I love you,” but that somehow seems insignificant.

I’m off the plane at baggage claim, and I’m still no more sure of what I’m going to say when I see him in ten minutes. My hands are shaking so bad, I can barely grab my suitcase off the baggage carousel. You’d think this is the first time we’re seeing each other naked or something. I can’t remember ever feeling this nervous about anything in my life.

Not giving my undergrad valedictorian speech. Not when I had to present my dissertation before getting my PhD. Not even when I came to Lubbock and saw Stone for the first time in five years.

This is different. Bigger. And it has to be perfect. He deserves the perfect words.

Now that I have my luggage, I decide to stop by the bathroom and splash some water on my face and force myself to calm the hell down. My breaths are coming out ragged and shallow. Standing in front of the sink, I place my hands on my knees and let my head hang. I drag in deep breaths through my nose, exhaling them through my mouth. My pulse is hammering in my ears and my eyes sting.

“Fuck. Get it together, Cash,” I berate myself quietly, hoping like hell no one else is in this bathroom watching me fall the fuck apart. “This is Stone. No matter what you say, he’s going to love you.”

I’ve resorted to talking to myself in an airport bathroom. Lord have mercy, I’m losing my mind. My phone vibrates in my pocket, so I reach in and pull it out. It’s a text from Stone.

Stone: Have you landed yet? I’m just out front. :)

Me: Yup! Got my bags and I’m heading your way.

I look at myself in the mirror before turning on the cold water and splashing some onto my face.This is it.I can do this. With one hand wrapped around my suitcase, I head out of the bathroom and toward the front of the airport. The walk feels like it takes hours, but I know realistically, it probably only takes a few minutes.

My head feels light, and my hands are still shaking. All the air leaves my lungs as he comes into view. He’s so fucking handsome. His black hair is styled back, out of his face, and his full pink lips are tugged into a toothy grin as soon as he sees me. He’s wearing my favorite pair of Wranglers, that hug his thick thighs and ass so good, it should be illegal, with a plain white V-neck t-shirt, with the sleeves rolled over once. His black Oakley shades are tucked into the front of his shirt, and he’s wearing a pair of dark brown leather cowboy boots that are really fucking working for him.

I try to swallow over the lump in my throat, but my tongue feels like it’s coated in chalk. I don’t understand why I’m so fucking nervous, but he’s about 30 feet in front of me now, and I’m genuinely concerned I may pass the fuck out before I can even reach him. Death by nerves.

I somehow manage to make it to him without falling over or having my legs give out on me. Letting go of my suitcase and standing directly in front of him, we both watch each other, not saying anything, for a moment. I don’t know who moves first, but suddenly, my hands are cupping the back of his head and his are gripping my hips, our lips crashing together. His scent and his taste crowd all of me, and it’s comforting. I groan when his tongue slips into my mouth, licking mine.

I’ve fucking missed this.

After far longer than what’s socially acceptable in a public place, we pull apart. His eyes are glossy as he smirks at me. He opens his mouth to say something, but I place my fingers on his lips, stopping him. I have to get it all out now or I’ll chicken out.

Dragging in a deep breath, I count to three in my mind. “I love you,” I start, dropping my fingers as he snaps his mouth shut, eyes widening. “It’s always been you, Stone. Even when I didn’t want it to be. Even when it ripped my heart out and shredded my soul. Even when the thought physically pained me. It wasalwaysyou. I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to say it, but I needed you to know. After you left, I tried so hard to get over you. Forget how you made me feel. And for a while, I fooled myself into thinking it worked. But then when you came back into my life, it wholly rocked my world. Brought up all the shit I swore I buried. I promised myself I’d never fall in love with you or allow you to love me. But then, next thing I knew, it was the middle of the night, pouring down rain, and I’m lying in your arms, laughing about random shit, and I felt happy.

“Truly fucking happy for the first time in a long time. And I knew. I just fuckingknew. Loving you was inevitable. Loving you is as easy as breathing. As natural as pumping blood into my heart. It was always meant to be you. It was always the end game. I’m so wildly, stupidly in love with you, Stone.”

Tears are cascading down both our cheeks, and the back of my throat aches, trying to hold it back. I don’t know how I managed to get all of that out without my voice breaking, but I did. My gaze stays locked on his wet eyes as he reaches out and wipes under my right eye with his thumb. I lean into his touch, eyes fluttering closed for a moment.

“Cash… you are everything to me. I love you so fucking much, and hearing you say all of that made me the happiest man alive.” He pulls me into his arms, and I bury my face in his neck as tears continue to fall. I’m not normally a crier, but shit, the floodgates have apparently opened and refuse to close.

We stay wrapped up in each other’s embrace for several minutes before we finally make our way to the car. He tells me once we hit the road that he’s taking me to his new house to show me everything. He moved all his stuff in last weekend and has been staying there ever since. We drive for about fifteen minutes, the house more on the outskirts of Lubbock than actually in town.

Nerves are eating away at my gut and my knee can’t sit still. Apparently, this entire day is going to be high anxiety for me because I can’t calm the fuck down. The first thing I notice when we pull off the back road is the driveway. It’s long… like at least half a mile long. The house is set way back. As we get closer, more of the house comes into view. It’s stunning.

All white, with a very farm style look to it. On one half of the house, there’s a wrap-around porch. There are barn door shutters on a few of the front windows. It looks to be two stories, and the yard in the front is massive. He parks in front of the house, but it looks like there may be a garage on the other side of the house.

“Stone, this is gorgeous.” I can’t take my eyes off it.

“C’mon, I want you to see the inside.” He turns off the car and climbs out. When he rounds the hood, I’m climbing out, and he grabs my hand, leading me up to the front door. The interior is just as breathtaking as the exterior. The walls are cream colored and there are built-in shelves and a spacious, vaulted foyer once we walk in. Natural light is pouring in from the windows around the house. We walk in farther and see the dining room. It’s bright, with a huge farm style dining room table in the middle. I chuckle when I see a cat tree—a massive one, might I add—set up in the corner of the room.

There are stairs adjacent to the dining room, but we pass those as he walks me into the living room. A huge, beautiful fireplace with more built-in shelves. His furniture in here looks to be the same from his old house, but it fits exceptionally well in this one. My eyes gravitate to the beautiful oil painting on the wall. The dark sky, bright stars, and the precise detail down to the long grass covering the wide-open field clogs my throat with emotion. It brings back memories of me and him that mean so much to me. Then, almost immediately, I notice the scribble of a signature in the bottom left-hand corner.Aston Walker.

Turning to face him, he’s watching me with nervous energy. “You had this painted?” I ask in a shaky voice.

With a nod, he says, “I did. I reached out to him a few months ago and had it shipped here.”

“I… I don’t know what to say. It’s beautiful, Stone. It looks exactly like the old field.”

He smirks. “Well, that’s the point.”

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