Page 45 of Mine to Worship

I can’t stay and do nothing. It’s bad enough that I can’t help relieve her pain, but a doctor might.

My doctor recommended a private gynecologist. After I check out her credentials, I call her and inform her of Ellia’s condition. Dr. Lopez agrees to take her on as a private patient.

When I end the call, I find Ellia reading a maternity book in the living room. Her beauty holds me captive. She’s the greatest gift. My ears ring with how much I love her. Emotions punch me in the gut as she gestures for me and she reads out loud.

This need inside me pushes me to take her lips into a kiss. Her tongue probes my mouth and it’s my turn to groan at the sweetness invading my taste buds.

I glue her to my chest, playing with a curl of her hair. For the first time in weeks, the silence between us feels like a peace offering and it doesn’t drown me.

“I found a doctor. She would like to meet you so she can assess the situation better. So the moment you want, we can go.”

“Thank you. I thought about it, too. Austin said I should be monitored every week.”

“Whatever your needs are, I am going to make sure every last one is met.” I kiss her temple. The need to protect her, love her, have her, overflows my system.

She draws a pattern on my arm with her fingers and she lifts her eyes to me wide with curiosity.

“What do you want more, a girl or a boy?”

“Whatever it is, I want it to be healthy and give you some rest.”

I don’t tell her the thought of either a boy or a girl, a little human being, scares me.

“And you?”

“I never thought about it, to be honest, but since I got pregnant, I pictured the baby as a she. I think it’s a girl,” she says, her excitement lighting her up from the inside out. Her soft features turn dreamy. She’s beyond beautiful, she’s perfect.

“Are there still convents?”

“Kian,” she says and slaps my chest. She takes it as a joke. I’m only half joking, but if the baby is a girl and takes after her, I’ll end up doing whatever she wants, anyway. I gather Ellia in my arms, and she straddles me.

“I have never been more afraid in my life,” I admit.

She caresses my face in silent understanding. I had to lose her to be able to open up. But I’d rather shed every layer of skin and reveal everything that’s beneath then not having her because the latter is not acceptable. I tasted her absence for a while and the acid still burns my stomach.

This woman undoes me, constantly, repeatedly, immutably.

“You’ll do great. You’re protective, attentive, and caring. I can bet that whenever you’re around, she’ll never have the chance to get hurt.”

“Of course not. I never understood how parents can look so relaxed when their kids are practically one step away from killing themselves.”

I am sure my first gray hair will appear the moment she cries for the first time.

Ellia’s rosy, full lips curve into a smile against my neck.

“Do you think I am funny?”

“Hilarious, actually. Relax. She’s safe inside me for now.”

“Yes, now I worry only about one of my girls.”

Her eyes gleam with emotions, and if she still wants to believe I am pretending, she can. But I love her too much not to try to fight for her. And fighting with my feelings over her has always knocked me out, so I am done. When and if she’s ready, I’ll tell her everything. Until then, I’ll offer my world, the universe.

I fucking hate this bullshit pretense. I’m not fucking pretending that I love her, that I am mad about her, that I am fucking desperate to have her anyway I can.

She trails a finger down my stomach, and presses her lips against my chest.

Behind my name, and my hotels, and even my inheritance, are scars of my childhood, of a time I spent on the streets, of a shadow of a man trying to patch himself together, fighting in every damn cage. It was my desire for that painting of her that kept me going on.

---