Page 74 of Eat My Moon Dust
“Fuck, I hope it’s real.”
I steered her to the door on the right, framed in plants, my heart thudding as she blinked at the homemade ornaments the spats had tied up on the leafy purple branches. I exhaled, pointing her to the access panel. “Open the door.”
The uncertainty and confusion in her expression sharpened. Tinsley bit the inside of her mouth, chewing on the sensitive backside of her lip. She pressed her palm to the panel and the door wooshed open, filling the hall with the metallic scent of drying paint and adhesives. We stepped into the humid jungle air. Every balcony and window was open to vent the fumes. It wasn’t the crisp chill Tinsley preferred, but when everything dried in a couple days...
My stomach fell through the fucking floor. What if she hated it? I’d been inside her unit twice and had been a bit preoccupied. First time I hadn’t cared to look, and the second time I was in a frenzy. All I’d had to go off of was that article about her bakery and some scrolling archive of interior decorating inspired byKrismis.It had simultaneously been overwhelming and not enough. I could get any little detail wrong and it would feel uncanny and strange.
“Oh mygod,”she hiccuped, fingers clapped over her unhinged mouth. Round eyes ringed in white roamed over the four-bedroom family suite. The varnished planks of merlotbiriawood underfoot, rich with grainlines and felled with Ngozi and Kokebe’s help. The alcove cut into the wall in the living room that mimicked a hearth, holographic flames licking the blackened tiles and casting warm orange light over the cushions of the sofa.
Tinsley took slow steps, looking here and there, lingering on the traditional shilpakaari dining room. Instead of a human table and chairs, the spats had chosen a low round table with cushions and thick lounge pillows. Three pendulum lights hovered above them. She froze, staring into the kitchen as if it couldn’t be real. Heat crackled along the tips of my tendrils, hoping beyond hope that she liked thebiriacabinets and shell knobs carved into flowers. The handwoven rug beneath the sink. The thin linen towels. I’d had them shipped in from a Dharateen importer in Samridve. They were real.Withimperfections.
Just how she liked.
“Hunar, this is incredible.” Tinsley whipped around, big brown eyes looking up at me with disbelief and questions. “Is this your new unit?”
I cleared my throat, pressing the tip of my tongue against my canines. “It’sours,”I said with rough emphasis. “If you want it.”
“Ours,” she repeated.
I nodded, holding her gaze. “Ours,priya.”My gruff voice broke like a dry husk on the word. “For as long as you’ll have us.”
Tinsley jumped, wrapping her arms around my neck and mane. She buried her face in my shoulder as I caught her, my lower hands cupping her hips, uppers cradling the back of her head and shoulders. She nodded againstme and I keened, probably squeezing the air out of her lungs with relief and gratitude. My tendrils flicked the corners of her eyes and behind her ears, along the sensual nape of her neck and the corners of her mouth. Every sweet little place I’d dreamed of touching the past three days without sleep or rest.
“I’ve never tried to make a home before,” I rumbled. “Did I do alright?”
She nodded, face still hidden.
“If you want to change anything–”
“Absolutely not,” Tinsley huffed, glaring with a sharp reprimand.
“Your demands have grown on me,” I assured her with the hint of a smile, brushing the tiny silk above her eyes with a tendril. “I promise I won’t mind.”
Tinsley bit back a smile, bumping her forehead against my cheek. “Hey, honey? You better show me the bedroom, or my clothes might combust.”
My colors flashed in the intimate warm light, codes knocking through my chest and mane as I carried her down the hallway. She glanced in the spats’ rooms, one for each of them, painted in colors of their choice and only partially unpacked.
I stopped in front of the bedroom door and set her slowly on her toes.
“The bedroom,” I started, brushing my palm over my chin. “It’s inspired by you, but not… directly. Not like the living room.”
Tinsley clasped her hands together with nervous excitement, then stepped up to the door.
I looked over the interior with a critical eye. The living room had taken up most of my time. I’d prioritized it specifically because Tinsley loved family and her bakery. The bedrooms seemed secondary to the power of a first impression, so none of them were finished.
Like I said, bribery. I did all of this because I loved her, but also because I wanted to fuckingkeepher. Forever. That moment she’d walked through that entryway? It was the moment I’d obsessed over. The moment when she’d see “us” and feel at home.
Again,hopefully.
“It’s not done yet,” I explained as she looked at the rippling waves of soft light over dark blue walls. “The things you said about imperfections and your roots back on Earth…” I cleared my throat as she brushed her fingers over the silky sheets and brassy chrome bed frame. Most of the furniture came from the importer. I didn’t have any family heirlooms. Just old snaps and comms. “It made me think back to how I cut ties with Dharatee when I was younger and dumber.”
Tinsley stopped, her face turned to the wall. I’d hung a brass rod all the way across the room from steely grey rope. Hundreds of loops of silver thread fell in puddles on the floor, evenly spread across the length of the bar.
“Is this macrame?” she asked, getting a closer look. She picked up one of the large spools of thick silver thread from the floor, then put it back with care. My heart jumped into my throat. I only had a couple dozen rows finished. It was barely two inches wide.
“Technically, it’s a tape lace coiling net. Men where I’m from make one for theirpriya.To try to convince her to stay. Long term.” Tinsley looked back at me. I set my jaw with determination. “Which is what I want, Tinsley.”
I took a few steps forward to slide my hands up the backs of her arms, to tease her throat with my mane.
