Page 155 of Mine to Worship

“And when do you think it’s okay?”

His face transforms in concentration. “Now, so we have it behind us.”

“She won’t remember.”

“Fuck, right.”

A laugh bursts free and I say, “Now where were we? Right so, I don’t want to ever, ever have the talk of deadlines and divorce papers ever again. It’s a thing of the past. We have better things to do than look back. I am ready to let the world see and know me and my paintings, my art, and what inspires me. And I want it all with you at my side.”

“Those were three, but I love your greed.”

I slap his arm playfully and he takes my lips into a toe-curling kiss.

“I would never stop you. All I want is to support you in becoming whatever you want.”

He would, he has proved it time and time again. We kiss again, and my world spins on the right axis.

I made no compromise with my heart and life, nor settled down for less than the absolute feeling that it’s right. I can’t wait to see where our road will take us. Whatever it will be, we’ll make it work together.

We have the best tools, love, togetherness, companionship, mutual trust, and support.

One week later, under the sun, surrounded by red rocks, the murmur of the Colorado river, and eagles ruling the sky, we say, “I do.” Again, with fingers entwined, eyes glistening, and hearts full of love.

Our love happened in steps and setbacks. A stormy beginning, intense coming together, wrong commitment, and blessed surprises. Our road has never been flat, and even in our most calm times, our love is fiery, a ripping volcano. Good for us, we love that intensity.

“I love you, Ellia, now and for all the tomorrows we’ll get and beyond.”

“I love you, Kian, all of you, now and for all the tomorrows we’ll get and beyond.”

Epilogue

“Have you told him?” Tara asks me.

“No, but I am on my way home. I told Andre I need a break, but he has a sixth sense or something, because he looked at me, smiled under his breath and congratulated me. Talk to you later, okay?”

Tara and I hang up and I dial Brandon’s number. Every day the same routine, I call him mid-afternoon, and he video calls in the mornings when we’re at breakfast.

Kira loves him, one day he didn’t call because the board had a longer meeting, and she cried for two hours straight, and her bear daddy OVERreacted. He flew to Las Vegas with her, so she could see her uncle Brandon, and demanded that he answer his phone when Kira calls him. Brandon said even if he was in a coma, he would find a way. Everyone has been happy since then.

Still, I know his heart; the pain living inside him… his mother’s mental illness, his father jumping off a bridge, and while Kian knew it would happen, the man was still the only father Brandon ever had, regardless of his actions.

But we’re family, and we stick together. They make a great team, Kian and Brandon, and Walter said he can finally rest knowing his boys have each other.

“We’re coming back to the States,” I inform Brandon when he picks up.

“It’s about damn time.”

“Yes, it is.”

Four years later, we have gone full circle. After the praise and acclaim of the exhibit in Andre’s gallery, my art took me to Rome, London, Tokyo, Sydney, and New York, then back to Paris. I close the doors to my studio and say goodbye to painting for a while, to be specific for at least eight months. After the Kira surprise, I thought I would be more prepared, but I forgot to change the second IUD. I wonder if it wasn’t also a subconscious sign. I love Kira, she’s my sunshine, regardless of anything, when she says momma, or I love you, or runs into her daddy’s arms, I want more and more. And Kian, he owns me, every piece of me. Loving him comes as naturally to me as breathing, painting, he’s just mine. He is the man I would be forever grateful for having met, fallen in love with, gone through storms and set with him at the edge of the world.

The corners of his eyes don’t crunch with insecurities anymore. He knows who we are together now.

He’s getting sexier, his charm and arrogance he wears like his cologne, and if, at the beginning, I clung to his arms, and dared anyone to come between us, now I smile at him, from the corner of the room. In the middle of a sea of people, our eyes would lock. Our hearts know, no one could ever come between us.

I wear a smile that can only match the killer dress I am wearing, a sheath pink dress, and when I reach our home, a white piece of architecture, my heart speeds up, sensing the nearness to the man it’s bound to. I pat my headband while my long curls graze the top of my breasts, and walk in.

A smile appears on my face as I hear her shrieks, her rich laughter, just like her daddy’s. Kira is his mini-me, the same eyes, the same dark, thick hair. When he realized she had his personality, he looked at me and whispered, “We’re fucked—literally.”

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