Mine

Chapter Nine

I'll be your man...I'll understand... 

Chapter Nine

"Surely you can't not see it?" Boran's mother asks him. She's holding his baby picture in her hand and a picture from Alihan's first birthday.

His face is hot and his stomach is in knots and thus far he hasn't admitted to any possibility that Alihan could be his but his mother has always been able to see right through him.

"I don't need you to tell me if anything happened between you and Miray. I'd always secretly hoped that something would because I thought she would be good for you but that ship has passed now that she is married to Kubilay."

He doesn't dare look at her then, reaching for his glass on the table and keeping his eyes focused on it as he drinks. What would she say if she knew right this second he was having more work done on the small cottage he's building outside of Istanbul because he told Miray it was risky for them to meet in his apartment? It's pretty much just a bare structure at this point with walls and indoor plumbing and a bed but no kitchen. Boran knows she wouldn't approve but he cannot stay away from Miray. Can. Not. The woman has him by the damn soul now and no good intentions or morality can keep him away from her. In the same instance, their lives are a fragile dance now. Too much is at stake to dare upsetting anything. He pokes at that door, but doesn't dare open it. The door that will tell him that Alihan is his. He tries to rationalize.

He used a condom.

Drunken idiot

Miray would have told him Alihan was his

Would she?

Kubilay treats Alihan like a loving father would treat his son. As much as Boran hates him, he's a good father.

What if he doesn't know?

What if Miray married Kubilay not because Kubilay took advantage of Boran rejecting her, but because she was pregnant with Boran's child?

Boran leaves his mother's house and wants to get stinking drunk. He doesn't want to get married. He loves children but has no desire for any of his own.

Uh Bobo! Uh! Alihan's little arms reaching up for him to pick him up.

Awwww. Dis. Alihan rests his head on Boran's chest when Boran complies and gathers the baby into his arms.

Little hands resting on Boran's knee to help pull himself up.

And all the while Miray is watching, always watching. Boran tells himself he doesn't see what he sees in her eyes. Surely, the glistening in her eyes is because she wishes Alihan was theirs, not because she knows he is.

Boran sits down at the bar, stares into the shot glass...and stares.

His mother knows something happened between them. She guesses it happened before Miray got married and doesn't know that it's still happening.

"You could always get a DNA test," she suggests.

That's when he gets up and leaves and makes a beeline for this bar...where he's not drinking. The amber liquid tempts him oblivion but he just stares at it.

Remember this moment as the moment you made the wrong choice, Miray said when he first pushed her away. Oh he remembers. He remembers it now with a bitterness that chokes him but with the excruciating knowledge that he couldn't make another choice then and he can't make another choice now.

A DNA test. A record of the possibility. Confidentiality his fucking ass. That test would be in the tabloids so fast it would make all of their heads spin and their worlds blow up into pieces. He can't do that to Miray. He can't do that little Alihan. He can't do that to himself because he doesn't want to be a father.

He wants Miray.

He wants to be free.

He doesn't want to be a father.

He wants Alihan to be his.

Boran gets up from his stool and walks out of the bar without taking a sip because he knows the alcohol will unmask him as a liar and let the truthful words come spilling out of his mouth past the walls he keeps to hold them back.

He waits for her to come to him again. They don't mention anything explicitly in their texts but find ways to make arrangements using creative code words that they work into everyday conversation.

They have a few hours. He's excited to have her here, in this secluded place where he can hopefully create beautiful things in peace. She is the most beautiful thing he's ever seen. It's a little chilly today so she's wearing a navy long cardigan that comes past her knees over a grey wool sweater and black skirt that flares prettily around her knees. Her hair is down in soft waves around her shoulders and he slides his fingers through it as he pulls her into his arms.

Boran looks down into those clear blue eyes. Ask her. Ask her to tell you the truth. He kisses her instead and knows he's a coward. She sighs into his mouth, a soft sound that makes everything inside of him swell.

This tiny girl owns him. Utterly. She makes him want things. It's a battle to hold onto the things he has always thought about himself when she makes him want to change all his ideas. She buries her face in his chest and sighs. "I've missed you so much. Show me this place."

Things are still under construction. Piles of wood and stone in different rooms. He shows her where the kitchen will be and imagines her cooking in it. He shows her the bathroom and the large tub he put in realizing it will fit them both. The bedroom has the sun is spilling onto the bed with its curved polished wood headboard and the dark wood floor. He walks her through the bedroom into the room where he will do most of his painting.

"I love how it smells," she says, looking around at the easel and white canvases still waiting to be used, propped against the floor and the wall.

"Turpentine and oil paint?" He asks, amused.

She gives him a soft look that washes over him like summer rain. "It smells like you when you don't wear cologne. You smell like smoke and this room."

He snorts. "Not very sexy."

Miray shakes her head and and moves towards him. "On the contrary, that is really sexy."

Heat spreads through him and settles with a throb in his groin.

She touches his chest and nuzzles his collar bone. "Let's do it here."

"Are you sure?" He cocks an eyebrow, looking around at the dust and mess.

"Your heart is in this room. It's perfect." She pulls at his green t-shirt until he lifts it up and off.

"It is," he says, cupping her face so she understands he's not talking about the room.

The smile she gives him is almost painful in its sweetness and he kisses her so he can taste that sweetness. His hands move to her hips and he undoes the zipper behind her so the skirt falls to the floor. "Don't move," he says and with a grin he watches her eyes widen in surprise as he gets down on his knees in front of her.

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