Page 83 of Mine to Worship

“He’s here. Why did I agree to this?”

“Because you’re stronger than your demons. I am proud of you.” I peck his lips and usher him to the door.

“Good motivational speech, wife.”

“Open the door already.”

I tip my chin toward it, and he mumbles, “I am doing it.”

My chest constricts, knowing all his demons will resurface. I am torn between shielding him and being aware he needs this resolution.

Walter steps inside and I greet my real father-in-law.

The physical resemblance is undeniable. They share the same mesmerizing gray eyes, and strong features. The way they carry themselves. It is uncanny how all three Reyes men look so alike, only the age differences, and the coldness in Richard’s eyes, separate them from being copies of each other.

No wonder my aunt fell for Walter. I tripped and fell for Kian even before I could put a name on the feelings he invoked in me.

Walter’s eyes find me, he smiles, and two dimples appear. No need for a paternity test.

“Ellia, how are you, dear?”

“I am great. Thank you.”

“Thank you for having me.”

He exchanges glances with Kian, and they shake hands. I take in their exchange, a bit distant, a lot civilized. We step inside the living room, and Kian strides to the bar.

“Something to drink?”

“Whiskey,” Walter answers and Kian pours two glasses.

“Are you hungry?” I ask.

“I am good, thank you, but I hope we can grab dinner before I leave,” he says hopefully.

“So soon?” I ask.

“I don’t want to overstay my welcome.”

“Stay the night,” Kian says and my heart melts. How can he believe he is not good, when it’s in his nature to care for the people around him?

“Then grab the bottle,” Walter adds, and they both let out a small chuckle.

They are going to be fine. Kian’s eyes flash with affection and Walter’s with love. It couldn’t have been easy for him to treat him as a grandson when he is his son, but I can’t feel sorry for him. It was his decision, and it started Kian’s downward spiral.

I leave them alone and go upstairs.

Chapter 30

Kian

Inside the home office, Walter unbuttons his jacket and takes a seat. Not even the best explanation in the world would be excusable, not after what I have endured, not now when I am certain I could never abandon my own child.

I take a mouthful of my drink, my eyes set on him. The man in front of me is not my grandfather, but my father and the person he entrusted me with fucked me up and good. It’s a fucking wonder I am not a psychiatric case.

“You two seem to be doing well.”

“We are. The worst has passed,” I say with confidence. I refuse to believe differently, not after things have been great the past few days.

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