Page 88 of Kismet

“We’ve been together since we were teenagers, Stone. How can you just throw all that away? Don’t you love me?”

I rub my hand over my face, sighing. “Aida, stop. You know I love you, and I probably always will, but we aren’tin loveanymore.”

I feel the choked cry that escapes her deep in my gut. I meant what I said; I will always have love for her, and hurting her isn’t easy, nor is it something I want to do. But staying married just for the sake of staying married isn’t logical or healthy.

My mind drifts to Cash. The many nights in the field with him. The way he makes me feel… both physically and deep in my soul. I’m not one to believe in soul mates or all that shit, but I can’t help but think he was put in my life for a reason.

I’m brought back to the present when a loud clank and the sound of glass breaking hits my ears. Looking across the kitchen to Aida, the empty wine bottle has tumbled to the floor, shattering everywhere, while she uncorks a new bottle and fills up her next glass.

“What the fuck, Aida. You’re making a fucking mess.”

“Oh, go to hell, Stone. Like you care.”

She’s hurt and lashing out—I know that—but Christ, it doesn’t make it any easier to remain cool and not lose my temper. I walk to the storage closet, grabbing the broom and dustpan, and make my way back to the kitchen so I can clean up the mess.

She’s already finishing her current glass as my gaze connects with her, immediately pouring another. Mascara is running down her cheeks, and her eyes are bloodshot. I’m at such a loss at where this is coming from. We were on the same page when this was decided, and now she’s having a meltdown about it.

“Is it because I can’t have kids? Is that what it is, Stone? I’m broken, so you don’t want me anymore?”

“Jesus, Aida. Don’t fucking talk about yourself like that. You aren’t broken. And this has nothing to do with whether or not we can have kids, and you know that.”

“Then what, Stone?! We can fix this, I know it.” She sets her glass down and walks toward me. She’s unsteady on her feet and her words slur. I haven’t seen her this wasted in years. When she stops in front of me, she brings her slender, cold hands up to wrap around my neck. “Please, baby.”

“Aida… please. We’ve talked about this. We decided. Please don’t make this harder than it needs to be.”

Tears fall down her face, my own eyes stinging, as she tries to bring her mouth to mine. My hands come up and rest on her shoulders, stopping her from getting any closer.Hurt flashes in her eyes before she steps back and wipes her cheeks with the backs of her hands.

“Wow,” she seethes. “Really? That’s how it’s going to be?”

“I don’t want to make this work anymore, Aida. I want a divorce, and that’s final. I’m sorry if that hurts you, I truly am, but I can’t stay with you just to make you happy. And I don’t even think that would make you happy. You’ve been just as unhappy as I have been for years. Why would you want to stay in something that makes you miserable? To save face? It’s not worth it, and I won’t do it. Please respect that.”

Her face morphs from one of pleading and hurt to one of wrath in an instant. Her features harden, eyes going cold. “Fine. Fuck you, Stone.” She rips herself from my hold and storms out of the room.

My head hangs, guilt lining my gut. Hurting her was never what I wanted. To some, it won’t make sense. If you didn’t want to hurt your wife, you shouldn’t have cheated on her… but it isn’t that simple. Nothing is ever black and white.

I pour myself a whiskey on the rocks and make my way to my office. It’s dark as I walk in, the moonlight pouring in through my open bay windows. I drop down into my desk chair, bringing the glass up to my lips, and letting the amber liquid pour down my throat.

Something catches my attention. My gaze coming up to my computer monitor that’s turned off. There’s a red glow in it… what the hell? Spinning in my chair, I look out the window into the night, my heart flying into my throat when I see red tail lights peeling out of the driveway.

Oh, no, no, no…

Swiping my phone off the desk, I press call on Aida’s number. It rings and rings, eventually going to voicemail.

Shit, shit, shit!

******

Cash DeMarco

It’s pouring down rain when I get outside. I’m drenched by the time the Uber driver arrives. I don’t bother waiting inside, because why bother? At least the rain hides the storm brewing inside of me, the emotional storm filling and spilling over my eyes.

As soon as I trudge over the threshold of my house, I rid myself of the sopping wet clothes. A trail is made from the front door to my bedroom, until I’m as naked as the day I was born. The emotions welling inside of me are overwhelmingly large and complicated. I’m running on autopilot as I walk into the bathroom and turn on the shower.

Climbing in before the water has a chance to heat up, my teeth chatter immediately as the cold water sprays my body. I wrap my arms around my torso tightly as the water warms, making no effort to move or clean myself. My mind spins, replaying tonight. It seems that’s all I’m ever able to do when I’m not around him—replay everything and torture myself.

I can still feel his body pressed against me, his lips sealed to mine. God, how I wanted so much more. I’m fucking sick of the war between my heart and my mind. It’s exhausting and I don’t want to do it anymore. My life was good—it wasn’t perfect, but it was good enough. I had, for the most part, gotten over Stone. I was dating, living my life, and then I came here and it was all for fucking nothing.

I’m back to feeling just how I did five years ago, and I fucking hate it. My job is amazing, the university is incredible… I don’t want to give that up, but fuck! Am I ever going to get over him? Is the sight of him ever not going to make me die a little inside? Whenever I’m in his vicinity, I lose all sense of rationale. His stupid fucking leather and spice aroma is like fucking catnip. The deep, dark shade of his eyes is hypnotizing—I look into them and forget why I need to keep my distance. I forget the hurt he caused me.

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