Page 88 of Mine to Ruin

It’s November tenth and Kian’s birthday. I sneak out of bed quietly and as I enter the kitchen to prepare a birthday breakfast packed with protein, the memory of him devouring me on the counter just a few days ago pops in my mind. He had called me his dessert; now I would wake him up with a birthday dessert. I also place a chocolate donut, his favorite, with a candle on top, on a plate.

When I come back up to the room, he’s propped up on his elbow. His gray eyes seem to admonish me for not being there when he woke up. I sing happy birthday to him, and he lowers his eyes to the breakfast tray. His lips curve into a radiant smile. Seeing him happy makes me happy.

I place the tray on the bed. I ask him to blow out the candle and make a wish.

“Stay right here, I have a present for you,” I say, leaving him on the bed as I walk to the closet.

A swirl of emotions assault me, and nerves make me jittery. Every night, Kian tells me how much he loves my skin, the dip of my waist, where my thighs meet my hip, and every night, he traces the line of my body. I thought, what better gift than a naked painting of myself, looking very much realistic and not abstract with his hands on me?

I get the painting from my side of the closet and return to the bedroom. Every night, I studied his hands on my body, mesmerized by his touch. The first painting of mine that Kian bought was about desperation, the second was frustration. But this one is elevation, and it closes the circle of me giving him the last piece of my heart.

I hand him the wrapped-up painting, shifting from one foot to the other as I wait for him to open it.

He tears the gift wrap open, and I hide a smile at his impatience. He traces the image I painted with reverence. His Adam's apple bobs up and down.

When his eyes find mine, the emotions there are so potent, they unbalance me.

“Come here,” he says, and I jump into bed next to him. He pulls me to him and presses our foreheads together. “You own me.”

“You like it?” I ask, excitement bubbling inside my stomach.

“My hands on you? I fucking love it.” His mouth nibbles on the sensitive skin on my neck. “You’re mine, all mine. Say it.”

“I am yours, all yours. Where will you put it?”

“My home office. But fuck, I won’t be able to work. Probably bedroom.”

He rolls me onto my back and kisses me before slipping between my legs, and we make love.

In the shower, I wash every inch of his picture-perfect sculpted body and place a kiss between his shoulder blades.

“I prepared something else for you, birthday boy.”

“And here I thought I had already received the two best birthday gifts.”

“You’re so modest.”

“No, I just know what I need and what makes me happy. And that’s you.”

At his words, my heart does gymnastics in my chest, I could participate in the Olympics.

We leave the apartment and drive to the Valley of Fire. When we reach the campgrounds, I grab Kian’s hand, and after a short walk, we arrive at the picnic waiting for us––a charcuterie board filled with cheese, meats, and fruits, and a bottle of wine on a red sheet. With a little help from Tara who helped me set it up.

“Happy birthday,” I say.

“It has to be the best birthday I’ve ever had.”

Pain stabs at my chest, because I can read the truth behind his words. I wonder if anyone else has done anything special for his birthday before.

“I love you,” I say and pour all my love onto his lips.

We eat then laze in the sun, my head resting on his chest.

“No one ever did anything special for my birthday,” he starts, “or gave me something personal, something that matters. And I didn’t want that either. But today… I have no words, Ellia. Not even all the abuse and the violence could bring me to my knees. But you manage to do it with your love.”

I freeze up and tears brim in my eyes at the pain contorting his face.

“This is why I don't want to tell you these things, I don’t want to see your tears. I want to make you happy.” He brushes my tears away with his thumb and I lean into his hand.

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