Page 44 of Alien Wants A Wife

Before I can admit to my fault, she says, “I also wanted to apologize.”

“For what?”

“You know—for telling you to kiss Roan. I was way out of line.”

“I had wondered about that.” At the time, it had felt out of character for Lydia to push me toward one of the alien brothers, but then I had kissed Roan and… well, again I’d gotten so caught up in him that Lydia had slipped straight out of my head.

“With Smith sending Briar away, I panicked that he’d try separating us, as well,” she explains in a muffled whisper. “I pushed you to kiss Roan, thinking that Smith would be pleased and keep us together. It was stupid. And selfish. In my defense, I was a bit tipsy… Actually that isn’t a defense at all. Sorry,” she finishes rather lamely.

“It’s okay. I wouldn’t have kissed him if I hadn’t wanted to.” Which is entirely the problem—mewantingto kiss Roan. And menot wantingto break his heart.

“Okay. Good,” but she doesn’t sound relieved. If anything, she sounds more stressed than when we’d started this conversation.

I feel her shift, the bed creaking under the combined weight of three people. I think she’s glancing around the room, not that there’s much to see in the darkness.

“Roan had his spare furniture stolen, too?” she asks after another slight pause.

“Ahh… What?” Maybe I’m groggier than I’d realized because her words don’t make much sense.

“You’re sharing a bed,” she clarifies.

“Yes…”

“Because all the furniture in Roan’s spare room is missing?” An accusatory tone enters her whisper. It makes me not want to answer.

Instead, I say, “Are you telling me that Killan’s furniture was stolen? By Mr. Smith?” A second later, my brain finally understands what she’s saying. “Oh, my God, are the two of you sharing a bed?”

“Shh!” She waves at me to lower my voice. “Yes, we’re sharing a bed, and it’s a fucking nightmare. Killan didn’t stop grumbling for ages, but it’s not my fault I’m stuck on this planet, in his house. It would be almost funny how mad he is, if I wasn’t so homesick. If his complaining gets us into trouble, I’m going to kill him.”

“Shh.” I shush her this time. If the cameras can hear our whispering, then the universe might think she’s serious about committing murder, which would be a whole other kettle of fish for us to be dealing with.

“There are only seventeen days left.” I try to sound reassuring.

She lets out a derisive snort.

“We can survive seventeen days.” I squeeze her hand encouragingly.

An idea strikes, and I try shuffling across the bed a bit, to give her more room. “Sleep here, beside me.” I butt up against Roan, and it’s like trying to push a sleeping giant out of the way. He doesn’t budge, and I don’t dare to push too hard because I don’t want to wake him. Partly because I don’t think Lydia wants another alien witnessing her misery and partly because I don’t want to deal with him sulking all over again because of something Chloe said to him.

Lydia doesn’t try lying down; maybe she can tell there isn’t enough room, despite the ginormous size of the bed.

“Do you think us three are the only ones LOVE GALAXY has ever abducted?” she asks.

“God, I hope so.”

“Why go to so much bother? If there are billions of people in the universe, Smith could’ve found willing participants easily. Kidnapping people is risky business.”

“It’s not like there are police on this planet,” I remind her. “Or any type of government. Mr. Smith must have known it’d be easy to escape punishment.” I shrug. “It’s not like there’s an Australian embassy in space where we can go for help.”

“Yeah…” Lydia doesn’t sound convinced. “Do you think Roan would lend me his tablet if I asked? Maybe there’s some way I can search online.”

“Last I checked, Google only works on Earth.”

“Search the alien internet, I mean. There’s got to be something online about previous LOVE GALAXY competitors. Or something online about Smith.”

“The inter-galactic-net,” I pun.

“Now I’m thinking about it,” she says, clearly not listening to me anymore, “Smith is just the director. He’s got to be working for someone.”

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