“And my dad, well, he’s the reason I got into teaching at all. He was a professor too. Taught English Lit and creative writing classes at the college in Spokane. I have vivid memories of being a boy, snooping around in his office at the house. Finding all his great novels and getting lost in them for hours at a time. The Great Gatsby, Moby Dick, 1984, even Jane Eyre. My love for reading and great literature is all thanks to him.”

I can’t help but beam, listening to him talk about them the way he does, with so much love and adoration. “They sound like incredible people,” I reply softly.

Nuzzling into the side of my neck, he presses his lips to my skin. “They very much were.”

One thing—one statement—stands out to me. “Their love is what I always wanted to have.” This question is probably inappropriate, but I have to know. “If you’re not happy, why do you stay married to your wife?”

He tenses behind me, and for a moment, I think I’ve crossed a line. But then he blows out a deep breath, relaxing. “I’m starting to learn that this game is a front for you to ask me the tough stuff.”

Laughing, I look back at him. “You caught me.”

He leans down, pressing his lips down on mine. The kiss is quick, but makes my head light, nonetheless. “Complacency, I think. Her and I are really all the other knows. We were each other’s firsts, and we got married right out of high school. We fell into a comfortable situation, and the thought of leaving all you’ve ever known to start over is scary.”

“Even though you’re unhappy?”

“Well, that’s the thing about becoming comfortable. You don’t always notice you’re not happy until it’s too late. I didn’t realize I was truly unhappy until recently.”

“What do you think made you finally see you weren’t happy?” A selfish, and probably unrealistic, part of me is hoping he’ll say it was me.

The arms wrapped around me squeeze a little tighter as he brings his mouth beside my ear. “I got a glimpse of what being happy could be like,” he whispers, a violent shiver roaring down my spine.

I don’t ask him to elaborate, don’t push further… what he’s insinuating is clear, and I’m speechless. We sit in comfortable silence; nothing but the crickets can be heard for a minute.

“My turn,” he says, breaking up the silence. “Have you had any serious relationships?”