Page 71 of Mine to Worship

My interest is piqued, and I gesture for him to continue.

“Bossy, aren’t we?”

“Don’t change the subject.”

“I won’t.” His posture turns serious, and he adds. “She wants me to invest in her idea. I believe in her and her project.”

It’s great she wants to start a new business, and I am all for women supporting each other. I wish she would get help from someone else, though. I sigh, the hypocrisy hitting me in the face. He tips my chin up, seeking my eyes to reassure me.

“It doesn’t make us partners. I will be a financial backer and get my share of the profits. It’s a business deal.”

“I feel awful.” I hide my face between my hands. Jealousy is like dripping poison. It won’t kill me, but I won’t be cured of it either.

Kian pulls me to him, and I end up straddling him. “I’d be disrespecting you and myself if I didn’t discuss this with you,” he tells me, brushing his knuckles against my cheek.

I wish I was as good of a person as he makes me out to be.

“You’re right. It’s just…” I take a deep breath and let it out slowly.

He lifts my hand and places it on his thumping heart.

“I am yours. I belong to you. I wanted you to be my wife and the mother of my children. No one else. I have to honor all those years Melanie and I have been friends and worked together. This is also to show her I believe in her like she believed in me all those years ago. I will help her, because money is not the issue.”

I would never allow my insecurities to stand in the way of someone else’s happiness.

I rest my cheek against his shoulder.

“Stop putting yourself down,” he says. “If the roles were reversed, I wouldn’t behave any better. I’d probably feel the same way.”

“I’m jealous. The really, really, ugly kind of jealousy,” I admit.

He grips my arms and his eyes lock on mine.

“There is no need, and if I love you right, you won’t ever be jealous of anyone else ever again.” His words make it slightly better. “Let me show you, just let me back in––completely.”

“It almost destroyed me the first time.”

“So you prefer pretending?”

The pain pulses in his eyes but also disappointment, and the latter stabs my chest.

I lower my head and fidget with the ends of my shirt.

“I’m here, waiting patiently for however long you need.”

His words sink in and rupture me.

I nod and go upstairs, fill my arms with paper and pencils and carry them to the balcony. I get lost in the movements of my hand over the paper. The sun descends behind the patches of curvy mountains and endless greens when I finally take a break.

“It’s beautiful,” Kian says from behind me. “That grayish-green is familiar,” he says and lowers his upper body over the chaise longue.

“It’s the same as your eyes, that mountain represents the high you make me feel. The other two mountains are me and our baby, and in the middle is you.”

Emotions swim in his eyes. This is me telling him I am here, too.

“Hungry?” he asks.

I nod and he helps me carry my art supplies back into the house.

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