Page 20 of Wrecked By My Alien Mentor

“It’s a private conversation,” I mutter, crossing my arms over my chest.

“Sexting and sending nudes are signs of a healthy relationship,” she says cheerfully, like she’s quoting a self-help book. “Though, you might want to invest in a lock for your door.”

“Mom!” My voice hits octaves I didn’t know I could reach.

She laughs, waving a hand as she backs out of the room. “I’m just saying! You’re an adult, Cora. Own it.”

The door clicks shut, and I bury my face in my hands, groaning. My phone buzzes again, and I fish it out from under the pillow.

“You could always just move in with me.”

I stare at the screen, my breath catching. It’s not the first time he’s floated the idea, but it’s the first time it’s felt… real. My fingers hover over the keyboard.

“Maybe, but I need to explain to my parents first.”

The “Sent” notification appears, and I exhale, staring at the ceiling. How do you tell your parents you’re moving in with your literal alien boss who also happens to be your dom? I’m not sure there’s a Hallmark card for that.

I’m in the kitchen, an apron tied around my waist, the rich aroma of beef stroganoff filling the air. The bottle of wine Orion gifted me sits on the counter, the label sleek and foreign, a reminder of his otherworldly taste. I pour three glasses, the deep red liquid catching the light, and set them on the dining table just as Mom and Dad wander in.

“What’s all this?” Dad asks, his eyebrows lifting as he eyes the spread. The stroganoff is in its final simmering stage, creamyand fragrant, and I’ve even tossed together a side salad because, hey, I’m not a total amateur.

“Dinner,” I say, shrugging like it’s no big deal. “Thought I’d treat you.”

Mom’s already at the table, inspecting the wine. “This is fancy. Did you rob a wine cellar or something?”

“Orion gave it to me,” I admit, stirring the stroganoff one last time before turning off the stove. “He’s… well, he likes to spoil me.”

“Spoil you?” Dad echoes, taking his seat. “Sounds like a keeper.”

I snort, plating the food and bringing it to the table. “Let’s just eat before it gets cold.”

The first few bites are quiet, the kind of comfortable silence that only family can bring. Mom hums appreciatively, and Dad practically inhales his portion, which is about as close to a compliment as I’ll get from him. I sip my wine, nerves starting to tangle in my stomach as I brace myself for the conversation I’ve been dreading.

“So,” I say, setting my fork down, “there’s something I wanted to talk to you about.”

Mom’s eyes narrow, and she leans forward, elbows on the table. “You’re not pregnant, are you?”

“Mom!” My face flushes, and I shake my head emphatically. “No. It’s not that.”

Dad chuckles, swirling his wine. “Let her talk, Maggie.”

“I’m moving out,” I blurt, the words tumbling out. “Orion and I have been talking about me moving in with him.”

Mom doesn’t even blink. “Oh, is that all this is about? You want to move in with your boyfriend?”

“And here we thought you were pregnant or something,” Dad adds, smirking into his glass.

I groan, dropping my face into my hands. “You’re impossible.”

“Cora, honey,” Mom says, her voice softening, “you’re an adult. You don’t need our permission.”

Dad nods, his expression serious for once. “We just want you to be happy. And if this Orion guy makes you happy, then that’s all that matters.”

“Besides,” Mom adds with a wink, “if he makes you dinners like this, we might just start inviting ourselves over.”

I laugh, the tension in my chest easing. “Thanks, you guys. I was worried you’d freak out.”

“Freak out?” Dad scoffs. “You’re our daughter, not our prisoner. You’ll always have a home here, but you need your own space too.”

---