Page 46 of Alien Wants A Wife

Harlee

Either Roan can’t hold a grudge or he’s planning something. Whatever it is, I woke this morning to find the bed empty, and when I’d dressed and entered the kitchen he’d greeted me cheerfully, as if he hadn’t been sulking last night about instalove and chronic loneliness.

I’m eating my breakfast, watching him across the kitchen table. He must be practicing his smiling, because every time he catches my eye, he grins, flashing all those rows of sharp, pointed teeth at me.

I narrow my eyes, trying to work out what he’s got planned, but he doesn’t say anything. Just whisks my bowl away the second I finish eating so he can start on the washing up.

Breakfast had been my first real alien meal since arriving. Before now, Lydia and I have been eating pre-cooked meals in plastic containers back at Mr. Smith’s spaceship.

Now, Roan has taken on the task of feeding me, and we broke our fast with something similar to porridge—if porridge was perpetually gritty and tasted similar to sweet potato.

I get up to help him clean, but he’s already finished, probably because his kitchen is part manual, part automatic. With a robot arm attached to the inner ceiling of the largest cupboard, which returns the cleaned crockery to their rightful places.

“Come.” Roan takes my hand, leading me back to Killan’s house. In one of his other hands, he’s holding his tablet, the screen of which he keeps checking.

Killan and Lydia are both waiting for us.

“You are late,” Roan’s eldest brother says by way of a greeting. He’s got his upper arms crossed, like usual.

Lydia raises her eyebrows when she sees what I’m wearing, but she doesn’t say anything. In her defense, I wasn’t being subtle when I got dressed this morning. I’m wearing a blue sweater I packed from the ship. It’s got cute white sheep all over it. Except that I’ve colored in one of the sheep with the only black pen I could find—my eyeliner pen. It’s my tribute to Princess Diana’s iconic ‘black sheep’ sweater and a blatant hint to me being a professional heartbreaker.

I wanted to remind myself of what I’m supposed to be doing—and how much I hate the idea of doing it.

“Late for what?” I ask.

“I thought you might enjoy seeing the farm,” Roan answers.

“A tour? That’s a great idea.” I’m infinitely curious about this farm I keep hearing about.

“This way.” Roan motions for us to follow him as he crosses Killan’s kitchen to one of the doors. I don’t actually know my way around this house well. It’s got to be at least three stories high (or should I have said ‘three stories low’?) with stairs leading both up and down.

As I step through the open doorway, my mouth falls open because there’s a forest!

A frickin’underground forest!

Inside a giant, massive, huge cave.

I’m standing on a walkway made of metal grates. It’s about three feet wide and curves along the cave’s edge. It’s got a railing, thank God, because we’ve got to be four stories above the cave floor. My heart lurches as my brain presents me with all the possible ways I could fall to my death, until I’m gripping the hand railing so tightly my knuckles have turned white.

“Fuck.” Lydia steps up behind me. She seems shorter than usual, and I think that’s because her knees are threatening to give way. She’s got her eyes half closed, and she only peeks overthe walkway’s edge for a second before stepping away, her back pressed to the cave wall.

“I don’t… How…” I’m so overwhelmed by what I’m seeing that I’m experiencing the phenomenon where my brain can’t finish a sentence.

The cave is so large I can’t see the back wall. It could be miles and miles long, for all I know. I can see the sky, though… so maybe this isn’t a cave at all, but actually a sinkhole? I’m not sure what the difference is. Either way, when I look up, I see the dusky sky, and I can hear the wind, but the cave walls protect the trees, and there’s an eerie silence down here. It’s hard to explain—being able to hear the screaming wind but also the silence of the cave/sinkhole thing.

The forest itself must be hundreds of trees big, all different sizes and shapes.

Roan steps up beside me. He’s watching my face again, as though the sight of the underground forest is so ordinary to him it’s lost all its magnificence. Instead, he’s waiting for my response.

I don’t know how I can possibly say anything that will describe the awe I’m feeling.

“Wait a second.” I step back through the door so I’m once again standing in Killan’s kitchen—a relatively boring, ordinary kitchen.

Then, one step forward and I’m in an enormous forest cavern.

Kitchen. Cavern.

Cavern. Kitchen.

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