Page 9 of Lorran
“That’s me,” Wyn said. She drained the cup and shoved half a donut in her mouth, the epitome of elegance and adulthood.
“Careful now,” her mother cautioned. Alana arrived a week ago to help with the preparation and to spend as much mother-daughter time together as possible. Wyn smiled warmly because her mom was the best. Her mother had also been baking cookies nonstop for the last week and packaging them for Wyn’s trip.
Wyn slid off the bar stool and staggered through the boxes in the apartment. This was it. Over the last three weeks, they’d been packing up what she wanted to take, selling what could be sold, and giving away the rest.
Alana was at the door, discussing the details of shipping all Wyn’s boxes. Blue nylon boxes arrived a few days after her match. Everything Wyn wanted to take went into them, and two uniformed men were hauling them into the vehicle.
Sonia watched from the porch while Alana gave directions.
“Thanks for the birthday donuts and, you know, being amazing,” Wyn said. She wasn’t going to cry. This was an exciting new chapter in her life, and there was an alien hottie waiting for her and she was not going to cry.
“Shut up, I know.” Sonia tossed Wyn her favorite cardigan, messenger bag, and the suitcase.
“If I come back, but that’s unspoken. Oh,” Wyn said, her words trickling through the warm and cozy glow of Sonia’s special birthday coffee, “I said the quiet part out loud.”
“Are you drunk, Miss Davies?” the soldier asked.
“Am I?” She spun to face Sonia, but she must have turned too quickly because the room refused to stop moving. She clutched the door frame for support. “Sonia, what was in the coffee?”
“Just a bit of whiskey.”
Wyn gasped dramatically. “You got me schnookered! I knew birthday going-away breakfast was too good to be true.”
“You know how you get when you’re nervous,” Sonia said.
“Barfy. My baby is so barfy,” Alana said.
“Yeah, and you know how I get when I’m tipsy. Chatty,” Wyn added, for the guard’s benefit. “I’m not a morning drinker or much of a drinker. At all.”
“A total lightweight,” Sonia agreed.
“Being impaired will not delay your departure,” the soldier said, sounding unimpressed.
And looking unimpressed, too. All frowny and serious.
He was such a baby, all pink cheeks and smooth skin. He never had panic attacks the night before his birthday and had to be trotted off to a government facility to be teleported across the galaxy to be married to a stranger. An alien.
Nope. He had a wiener, so he got to be master of his own destiny.
“I’m thirty, ma’am,” he said.
Oh. She said the quiet part out loud again. “I’m thirty too.Also. I mean also, not thirty-two. Apparently, I’ve had a little whiskey in my coffee this morning because I might have been freaking out because I’m excited but also terrified.”
“You volunteered.” He checked his tablet computer. “You have no reason to be nervous.”
“You’d think, but I only volunteered because waiting was killing my soul.My soul,” she stressed, suddenly filled with the urgent need to make Soldier Baby Face understand. “I was engaged for ages and ages, but Oscar ditched me to follow his muse. His muse.” She made a dismissive noise. “Boys are dumb. Sorry, you’re probably a boy. Do you ever smile? All that frowning isn’t good for your heart.”
“Sorry you insulted me or sorry I’m a man?”
She reached out and patted him on the arm. “Your choice.”
He grabbed her bag and headed to the waiting vehicle.
Wyn hugged her mother, soaking up the strength from that embrace. “Watch yourself, baby.”
“I’m fine, Mom. It’ll be fine.”
“I know it’s too late to tell you to keep those expectations realistic—”
