Page 78 of Resisting the Alien Rider

Incoming Tablet Communication Darcy Dubois:No he isn’t. He’s like those gross licorice candies thatget all stale and dried out in the box because nobody wants them.

Outgoing Tablet Communication Magnolia Jones:Hey! I like licorice!

Incoming Tablet Communication Darcy Dubois:I am genuinely worried about you right now.

Outgoing Tablet Communication Magnolia Jones:OK, fine. Maybe not a toasted marshmallow. More like a marshmallow somebody dropped in the fire. Burnt to a blackened crisp and more than a little dusty, but still ooey-gooey and sweet on the inside. There. Does that work?

Incoming Tablet Communication Darcy Dubois:…I accept this analogy.

Incoming Tablet Communication Darcy Dubois:So he’s good to you, Magnolia? Because that’s really all I give a shit about.

Outgoing Tablet Communication Magnolia Jones:So, so good to me. I love him so much.

Incoming Tablet Communication Cherry Dawson:Aww. I’m so happy for you, Magnolia!

Incoming Tablet Communication Darcy Dubois:Same. If you’re happy, then so am I. And I suppose I can’t fault Garrek for having absolutely banger fucking taste in human ladies.

Incoming Tablet Communication Cherry Dawson:How is Oaken taking it? I assume, since you’re using his tablet for the ceremony, he approves?

Outgoing Tablet Communication Magnolia Jones:He approves. Did you guys know that he’s Garrek’s cousin? I think he just wants what’s best forGarrek. And for me. Once he’s healed up, I really hope he decides to participate in the bride program again. He deserves to find love. And whoever marries him would be lucky to have him. He’s so kind and generous.

Incoming Tablet Communication Cherry Dawson:I’ll keep my fingers crossed for him!

Incoming Tablet Communication Darcy Dubois:Me too. Now get some sleep, Miss Bride-To-Be. Sounds like you’ve got a big day tomorrow.

28

MAGNOLIA

Irose at dawn on the morning of my wedding to Garrek. I remembered waking at dawn this way, filled with this same sort of elation, back at Fallon and Darcy’s ranch. The morning of the day I would start travelling to meet Oaken.

But it hadn’t been Oaken with me that day on the ranch at dawn. It had been Garrek, putting the half-eaten circle of soap into his pocket and carrying my bag to the shuldu.

Garrek, who would officially become my husband today.

I got ready in Oaken’s bedroom after stealing away from Garrek’s sleeping form in the cabin where I’d been spending my nights with him. I had just finished braiding my hair and then twisting the braids into a pretty, low bun at the back of my neck when heavy footsteps, quick and urgent, thundered across the floor. The door to Oaken’s bedroom flew open, and there Garrek stood, panting, eyes blazing. Now that Iknew that the bright eyes were tied to emotion – any emotion, even bad ones – I hurried over to him.

“What is it?” I asked, laying a hand on his hard jaw.

“I woke and you were gone,” he said, his breath sawing in and out of him. “I woke and thought…”

“Thought what?”

“I thought you’d changed your mind.”

My throat went hot and achey.

“Oh, no, Garrek. No,” I crooned soothingly. I took his hand and pulled him fully into the room, closing the door behind him. “How could you possibly think that?” I leaned my forehead against his chest and wrapped my arms around his back. “I’m not going anywhere. I’ve been waiting a long, long time for this moment.”

It was true. I’d dreamed of my future wedding for as long as I could remember.

Of course, this wedding to Garrek would be nothing like that fantasy I’d built up inside my head. For most of my young life I’d imagined some faceless human groom. We’d be having a huge, lavish party with family and friends at some fancy location, like Longbourn Vineyard on Terratribe II.

This wasn’t an elegant winery. This was Oaken’s cabin. And my family wasn’t here. No one was allowed to travel to this penal colony except convicts, wardens, supply pilots, and brides.

I didn’t even have a dress. That dress was currently hanging on Garrek’s broad shoulders, reshaped and reborn. I couldn’t think of any better use for what had once been my wedding dress than to protect this man Iloved, to hold his scars in the symbolic embrace of its lace.

Garrek’s arms clamped around my back and squeezed.

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