Total pages in book: 159
Estimated words: 144433 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 722(@200wpm)___ 578(@250wpm)___ 481(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 144433 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 722(@200wpm)___ 578(@250wpm)___ 481(@300wpm)
Oh dear, is she going to poke holes in my cover story? I can't remember if we ever talked about the specifics of how my “husband” came to know me. "I went through a friend. He knew a guy who knew a guy."
"And your husband is good to you? He doesn't treat you like you're less than him because you're human?" She gives me an intent look. "Equality is important to me."
"Oh, he's the best," I lie through my teeth. "He's never made me feel like less at all and always makes sure I come first." I mean...at least the last part is true. I came first, second, and third last night.
Daphne strokes the yellow ribboned hem. "And you feel safe even though he's an alien?"
"The custodians have been all over us," I reassure her. "They're making sure we're safe. If he so much as sneezes wrong, they're going to be on him. Are you thinking of getting married?"
She looks up and blushes. "I mean, it was just a thought."
"I'll ask Zhur if he has any brothers," I tease. An idea hits me and I decide to steer the conversation a bit. "Perhaps marry an alien you're very familiar with if you want kids. I married a praxiian and I have no idea what our children will look like. I've never seen any half-praxiian children."
"Oh, I've seen them," she chirps, falling right into my trap. "There's a lady named Kim that lives a bit farther out, but she comes in sometimes so I can make her little girls frilly dresses. They're truly cute with the pointed ears and the whiskers." Her expression grows dreamy. "And you should see their fuzzy hair."
"I would love to," I gush. Kim is the name of the woman that Nassakth is married to. How is it I've never seen her lingering around town? My social skills are letting me down. "Is she coming by here soon? Maybe I could drop in and take a peek. Or heck, maybe I could introduce myself. It's a small universe, maybe our husbands know each other."
Daphne clips a random thread from the hem and flips it over, looking at the stitches carefully. "She doesn't come in often. I think she and her husband are big on privacy. But if you go out to the hills—you know which ones I'm talking about? You'll see a big spread with trees. That's his place. I've heard he's an absolute plant lover."
My eyes widen, because I do know the farm she's talking about. I took my sled out and puttered around when I first got it, just to scope out the area (and okay, to be nosy) and there was one farm with a ton of trees on it. Trees aren't the norm for this part of Risda III, because this is far more of a grassy plain suitable for farming. "I know those trees. And it's funny that you say that—I have a tree I'm trying to grow that's dying no matter how much I water it. Maybe I can ask them for advice."
I'm such a liar, but it really is the perfect excuse to drive past their farm. Zhur is going to crap his pants with excitement when I tell him.
CHAPTER
SIXTY-EIGHT
MAEVE
I'm practically dancing by the time I head out of the boarding house and back into the street. I spent longer than anticipated with Daphne and part of me worries that Zhur got mad and went home already. If so, I'll have some explaining to do when I get to Simone's stand.
To my surprise, he's still there, talking animatedly to Simone and gesturing even as she boxes up cookies for another client. I stride towards them with my now-mended dress in hand and try to listen in on the conversation, because I'm extremely curious what they could be talking about.
"I'm telling you, it is a meal I was served many times back home. It is a praxiian staple. The bottom layer is cured meat." He gestures with his hand, indicating each layer. "The top is cured meat. The center is a softer, barely cooked steak. The juices from it make the entire thing delicious and not too dry. You add some spices, and you will have every praxiian on this planet at your doorstep."
"You say that like I want every praxiian on the planet at my doorstep," Simone replies, waving her tongs at him as the other customer leaves. "So you're telling me that a meat on meat sandwich is the lunch food of your choice back home? What about like, a meat pocket? Where the interior is meat and potatoes and it's encased with a dough? The British do something like that back home."
"Mmm, perhaps." Zhur strokes his chin. "But you should switch the potatoes out for more meat, and change the dough to dried meat. Perhaps a tender jerky of some kind."