Page 27 of Kismet

I pour myself a glass of whiskey before going to my office. Sitting down at my desk, I pull out my phone, remembering that Cash sent me a text when I was in the car.

Cash: Congratulations on your award, Stone. That’s a huge accomplishment.

I’m speechless.

It’s pathetic how vastly different Cash and Aida are. I shouldn’t be comparing them, but right now, with how angry I am, it’s hard not to. My own wife can’t even be bothered to congratulate me, but Cash, who learned about the awardmonthsago when the dean announced it, not onlyremembered, but took the time to congratulate me.

Rereading his text with tears blurring my vision, I attempt to swallow over the lump in my throat. Seeing such a simple gesture, and how it makes me feel, just shows how hopeless me and Aida are. How did we let ourselves get to this point? We’re unhappy, trapped in a loveless marriage, and we both deserve more. We deserve the random text messages that make you smile like a fool, or the longing stares filled with so much passion it makes your breath catch in your throat, or the heart racing, skin tingling feeling you get when you’re near them—the can’t sit still, can’t think straight feeling.

The feelings I haven’t felt from her in ages, and if I had to guess, I’d say she feels the same.

Me: Thank you, Cash. That means a lot. Enjoy your winter break.

The next couple of weeks for me are spent soul searching. Really figuring out what I want in life and what I just don’t want to deal with. Aida and I don’t speak the entire break. Even on Christmas. It was the most depressing Christmas I’ve had in a long time. I FaceTimed Molly in the morning and spent the evening sloshed in my office feeling sorry for myself.

By the time school returns, I’ve made up my mind that I want a divorce. I don’t know when it’ll happen, but it needs to. The only reason I don’t confront her and ask her as soon as I’ve made up my mind is because January is a hard month for her. Her grandma and her aunt both died in January several years back, and I don’t have the heart to add to the sorrow. But as soon as the time is right, I’m having the conversation with her.

I can’t do this anymore.

I can’t live unhappily, pretending like things may go back to normal one day. Or pretend that we may be who the other needs suddenly. It won’t, and we won’t. We’re just too broken. Too different. We haven’t been happy in many, many years, and I can’t deny it anymore.

And I don’t want to.

Chapter Nine

Cash DeMarco

Stone: Can’t sleep. You up?

It’s almost one in the morning and a little over a month since I texted Stone about his award. It’s been even longer than that since we made out in his office. My dick gets hard just thinking about that—the way he held me, the way he kissed me like I was everything he needed, the hunger in his eyes when the lights came back on.

Fuck me.

But then I also think about the way he pulled away from the second kiss that night. How what was an earth-shattering moment for me seemed so easy for him to ignore. He’s done a good job of denying whatever is between us. If it isn’t school related, he doesn’t speak to me. It’s not like he’s rude, but he makes sure everything is kept professional. Which, to a point, I can understand. A lot is on the line for him if he gets caught. But… in the same breath, how can he pretend he doesn’t feel it? How can he be in the same room as me—the same room we made out in—andnotacknowledge the connection?

I can’t stop thinking about him. It’s like we’re two magnets, connected by a force that can’t be seen, but can’t be reckoned with either. I’m drawn to him, whether in my mind or physically, and I know he feels it too.

Still, I’m more than a little surprised to see a text from him.

Me: I’m up.

My message shows read, and he starts typing immediately, bringing a smile to my face.

Stone: What’s got you up so late?

Me: Can’t sleep. It happens a lot. You?

Stone: A lot on my mind…

Me: Care to share?

Stone: Honestly? You, mostly.

My body flushes warmer as I read that. Why is something as simple as him admitting to thinking about me enough to make my stomach dance and my chest flutter?

Me: What a coincidence, teach. I’ve been thinking about you too.

Stone: Really?

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