Page 39 of Mine to Worship

“Do what your heart says. The heart has a way of showing its gratitude if you follow your instincts.”

“It’s a long drive. Are you feeling all right?” Kian asks for the tenth time in the last hour, swaying his head from me to the road constantly. I should have accepted to fly.

“I am fine. Stop worrying.”

“But you’ll tell me.”

I nod, and turn my head toward the window, hiding my smile. His protectiveness is endearing.

“I’m thirsty,” I announce.

He exits the highway, his face contoured in determination as he follows the GPS, driving like a madman as if it is a life or death situation. When we find the gas station, I erupt into laughter.

“I said thirsty, not dying of thirst.”

“Same to me.”

His serious eyes bore into me. He grabs my hand, and we stride inside.

“Are you going to buy the whole water section?” I might pee myself if he continues stacking bottles on the pile forming in his arms.

“I don’t know which one you’d like more.”

If his plan is to melt me with softness, it’s working.

“It’s water, any of them would be fine.”

I bite down a smile. It’s funny seeing him all worked up. I come across the baby section and halt. I never took this section into consideration and now it’s all I can see.

Kian scans every baby product. “How are we supposed to know which one is better?”

“We’ll test them.”

“I’m starting to believe the baby being inside of you is the most peaceful time we’ll ever get,” he says, a pensive expression on his face.

A woman next to us cracks a smile, while a toddler tugs at her dress.

“You are right,” she says, and Kian eyes me as if telling me, see? A mix of ease and joy blossoms inside me.

In the car, tiredness tugs at my eyelids, and I rest my head on his shoulder. I have never experienced this intense thirst and exhaustion.

I wake up and see we’re parked in front of a bookstore. I tilt my head to the side, and Kian appears, his arms filled with books. His grin stretches, and I shake my head at him.

“Is that all?” I ask, biting down to suppress a giggle.

He sways his head back to the store, his eyes narrowing on it.

“I should have bought them all,” he says, turning towards the store.

“No, come back, that’s enough.” I crawl into the driver’s seat and drag him in the car by his elbow.

He lets out a resigned huff and places the books in the backseat.

“You’ll be the perfect daddy,” I tell him.

He gulps and starts the engine. I hope one day he’ll believe it, too.

The sun dips below the horizon, and my stomach growls when Kian parks in front of a Greek diner.

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