Page 79 of Mine to Ruin

“You’re not questioning my feelings for him?”

He looks at me as if I’m stupid, and explains, “It’s kind of obvious, when both of you are together in a room, you can feel the pull between you two. To be honest, it freaks me out.”

“I don’t think he feels the same,” I say and sigh. At the thought alone, my heart constricts.

“Maybe he doesn’t know how to express it, but he’s smitten with you. I know you don’t want to hear this, but he and Melanie had an open relationship.”

When Brandon leaves, I call the girls, ignoring the time zones. I need to talk it through with my besties. I tell them what happened, and while Tara ruminates, Aubrey blows at her freshly painted nails and says,

“You have two options.”

“Oh, let’s hear from the relationship expert. I am all ears,” says Tara, and Aubrey rolls her eyes at her.

“Hello, me here, let’s focus on my problems please,” I say, pulling their attention back.

“So you either tell him he misheard if he asks. Or you put your big girl pants on, and ask him how he feels about you.”

We continue debating my options, but once I end the call, I am none the wiser.

Lorene enters, and we talk about the opening of the gallery happening in one month.

“You’ll see how quick you’ll have your old fame back,” she says with a big smile. “Even better, you will surpass it.”

“It’s not what I am after.”

“Your talent has to be showcased, and it comes with the price of becoming a public figure.”

Yes, art needs sacrifices, and this time I am ready. Ever since the moment the opportunity arose, I knew I would take steps back into the art world.

On my way up to meet Kian at the end of the day, my heart jumps in my ribcage in anticipation. I wonder when the storm of my feelings for him will calm down and won’t produce thunder in my core. I slide in the plastic key card and let myself in. It reminds me of how he placed it in my hand and then clasped them together this morning.

I follow the noise of papers being shuffled to his office and the slight grin lifting the corner of his lips reveals that he’s sensed my presence. He puts his papers down as I approach and pushes his chair back so I can climb on his lap. His lips find mine, and I close my eyes, savoring the kiss, the sensual dance between our mouths.

Butterflies flap their wings frantically in my stomach. He cradles my face, his thumbs rub my cheeks. Every kiss, touch, caress speaks so loudly; words are redundant. A feeling of belonging veils me in.

He stands up and places me on my feet. “Come with me.” He extends his hand, and I grab his, and we take the stairs to his bedroom. My mouth drops when we enter his walk-in closet; it’s filled with women’s clothes, from dresses hanging on a rack to all the basics.

I turn to him, my eyes full of awe and questions.

“For you, for when you move in.”

“Kian!” His name flies out of my mouth in half surprise, half incredulity.

“Is there something you don’t like? We can change anything,” he says, a contrite look on his face.

I keep my mouth shut so I don’t call him crazy. I put my arms around myself, and I slowly take everything in. This is happening, me and him.

He approaches me, puts his forehead on mine, and says, “Let me show you my way.”

He lifts me up and carries me to the bed. Kian caresses the skin under my belly button, and his eyes seek mine.

“Say it again.”

I could pretend and ask him what he means, but in the depths of his eyes I could see what he wishes to hear. “I love you.”

“Do you mean it?” he asks, expelling a breath filled with heavy emotions.

“Of course, I do. I wouldn’t have said it otherwise.”

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