Total pages in book: 22
Estimated words: 19577 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 98(@200wpm)___ 78(@250wpm)___ 65(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 19577 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 98(@200wpm)___ 78(@250wpm)___ 65(@300wpm)
I should have specified "no drunken hook-ups apply."
"This is a mistake," I say through my weeping.
"Hush," he says, taking me by the arm and leading me back into the house. "Calm yourself. There is nothing that can be solved with tears and a dozen things that can be solved with good tea."
"Good...tea...?" I let him escort me over to my sofa, and sit down carefully, one hand going under the bulk of my belly. I grimace at the clothing I'd discarded on the floor, because that's now going to be a pain to pick up.
The stranger fluffs a pillow behind me and then tucks another against my side for me to lean against. He puts his hands up, indicating I should remain in place, and then scoops up the laundry and sets it down on the nearest counter. Then he moves to my kitchen, finding my teapot and putting it on the stove.
I watch in silence as he digs through my cabinets, pulling out a small canister of herbal tea and sniffing it. He adds some to the teapot and floral scents immediately fill the air. "We'll get you settled and then I'll go," he says, his voice easy. "I didn't realize you had a mesakkah mate. He doesn't have to know about us and that night."
Mate? I stare at the cat-alien in my kitchen. He's handsome enough for an alien. I remember I thought that the night we met, too. He's got fuzzy orange hair-slash-fur and a long swishy tail. His face looks like a mixture of cat and human, with the bisected mouth and whiskers, and triangular ears jutting out of a thick mane of hair. I probably shouldn't find that sexy, but I do, along with his big body and even bigger hands. "I-I don't have a mate."
The stranger turns to me. "Then who is the father of your children?"
I sputter. How many people does he think I'm fucking? "You are! You're the only one I've slept with since I got here."
It's probably a mistake to point that out. His face lights up as if I've given him a gift. "I am a father?"
"Not yet, but soon." I rub my belly again.
"This...this is incredible." He stares at my stomach, and then at my face again. The tea kettle whistles and he immediately jumps into action, picking it up by the handle and then pouring me a cup (even as he strains out the tea bits). He adds a touch of honey from the canister I have on the counter, as if he knows my kitchen intimately already, and then brings the mug over to me. He holds it out reverently. "May I get your name, female?"
I grimace, because the awkwardness is just piling on top of itself right now, isn't it? "I never gave you my name?"
I don't point out that I don't know his, either.
The alien—a praxiian, I think—gives me a thoughtful glance as I take the mug of hot tea from him. He squats in front of me, watching me intensely until I take a sip of tea. It's good. Very good. It's also not something I normally do for myself, because I don't think to go to tea when I'm feeling puny. I was always a coffee sort back home but nothing they have here compares. But tea? It's nice. I take another sip and it seems to please him that I'm drinking.
"What do you recall about that night?" he asks. "Because you were drinking quite a lot of ooli brew. We both were."
"Oh, I was," I agree. I hold the mug in front of me like a shield, trying to recall exactly what happened. "I was just...celebrating being on Risda. Getting a farm. Freedom. I didn't realize the beer was so strong and by then I didn't care. I remember meeting you and petting your whiskers..." And I vaguely remember petting other things, but I don't bring that up. "The next thing I recall is morning, and we were both naked in a field."
"That's it? That's all you remember?" He's appalled.
Mortified, I nod.
“Ooli brew takes time to build a tolerance to. I thought the way you were drinking it…” His ears go flat. “I was too drunk to realize it was a dangerous situation for both of us.”
Great, so we were both plastered and made bad decisions.
He rubs his mouth again, his whiskers flicking as he does. I'm fascinated by that small movement. It's so alien and yet so human at the same time. Maybe I have a whisker fetish. Maybe that's why I jumped him that night. I'll never know because I don’t remember squat. He clearly remembers some but not enough if he doesn’t remember getting me pregnant.
The alien thinks for a moment longer and then opens his mouth to speak.
And I realize I have a lot that needs saying before we go any further.