Love's Awakening by Stuart Kelly

thinking? No fling, no fling. Celia was done with David, but that did not mean lusting after her husband’s son was okay. Never mind what might happen if David woke up. Besides, the fact was that the kiss had come from somewhere. Oliver must have feelings for Celia, and she would not play with them.
    But the kiss. The damn kiss played games with Celia’s mind. With her heart.
    “Gotta go,” Oliver said.
    “Can I ask you something?”
    Oliver shuffled his feet. “You probably shouldn’t.”
    Celia swallowed. “Okay. Good night.” She told herself a good night kiss would be okay. On the cheek, of course. Celia leaned in, and the kiss was no more than a brush, but damn. Oliver smelled strong. Felt virile. Tasted right.
    Oliver kissed Celia back, on her cheek. “Good night,” he said.

Chapter Nine
    “Hey, Dad,” Oliver said on a Thursday a few weeks later. He would meet Celia that Saturday at Starbucks; Sebastian had been unavailable the past couple of weekends.
    No reply from David.
    Oliver took a seat at his father’s bedside. They were alone. “My class was cancelled, so I’m celebrating by coming to see you. How’d you make it this far, huh? Damn.”
    Nothing.
    Oliver wriggled the fingers on his left hand. “Free as a bird!” His cast had come off a few days ago. About damn time. “Not feeling chatty, Dad? Good thing I brought my textbook.” Oliver had fifty pages to read.
    Nothing.
    Oliver surveyed the tubes going into his father. Pitiful. Nurses rushed past the door. Someone coding? Dying?
    “I told Celia,” Oliver whispered. “That you’re transgender. I did your dirty work for you.”
    Oh , he imagined David saying.
    “She took it fairly well. She, uh, she would’ve tried to understand. She might even have stayed with…she’s great, Dad. You screwed up.”
    Oliver imagined David closing his eyes. I know.
    “Anyway.” Oliver opened his textbook. “The normal distribution was discovered in 1733 by the Hugueneot refugee Abraham de Moivre as an approximation to the binomial distribution when the number of trials is large.”
    Zzzzz.
    Oliver retrieved another item of reading material: a letter from Celia that arrived earlier that day. “Hey, Dad. Want to help me reply to this letter?”
    David’s lips were set in a thin line.
    “You want me to read it to you? Okay, then.”
    Oliver:
    You know that many constellations don’t look similar to what they’re named after, right? (Except the dippers. A square and a handle forming a spoon, I can see that.) But Leo? Do you know that one?
    “No,” Oliver said to his father. “I hadn’t. I mean, I know ‘leo’ means lion, but I didn’t know there was a Leo constellation. I looked it up online.”
    It’s supposed to be a lion. It’s actually a triangle and a bent clothes hanger. Look up a picture if you don’t know what it looks like. Some people reach for explanations. They have to see something with meaning. Anyway, I’m going to see you Saturday, so I’m not writing much. Getting snail mail is nice, isn’t it though? Well, I’ll see you soon.
    - Celia
    “What do you think, Dad?” Oliver asked. “You always wanted us to get along.” But not like this, I bet.
    *****
    The Starbucks was lively when Celia entered, and she did not see Oliver right away. Then there Oliver was, wearing a green shirt. He stood by a window table and waved Celia over. As Celia approached, another man stood to greet her. He was bespectacled, and his black hair was closely cropped. He was lean and tanned, and stubble dotted his jaws. He was one of the most handsome men Celia had laid eyes on. “Sebastian Coventry,” he said, and extended his hand. Deep, masculine voice.
    “Celia.” They shook hands.
    “I’ll get our drinks,” Oliver said. “What do you want?”
    “Hey, congratulations. Your cast is off.”
    “Sure is!” Oliver said with a grin.
    Once Oliver was gone, Sebastian proffered a Snickers bar adorned with a red ribbon. “David told me