“Melissa—”
“No. Listen to me.” Her hand moved to cup his face, her thumb tracing the texture of his skin. “You’re sitting there, holding my son like he’s the most precious thing in the universe, and you’re trying to figure out how to be noble. How to let me go if that’s what I want.”
“It’s not about being noble. It’s about loving you enough to want your happiness.”
“My happiness.” She laughed softly, but there was no humor in it. “You think my happiness is on Earth? In a life where I don’t remember you?”
“Your life was there. Your career. Your?—”
“My life was empty.” The words were stark, unflinching. “I spent years building a career I was proud of, helping other people have families while I was too scared to risk building one of my own. I chose artificial insemination because it was safe. Because a baby couldn’t leave me the way my ex-fiancé did. The way everyone always did.”
“Melissa…”
“And then I was taken. Ripped away from everything I knew, thrown into a nightmare I couldn’t wake up from. But in the middle of that nightmare, I found you.” Her voice cracked slightly. “A terrifying, beautiful, honorable alien who held my crying baby and made him feel safe. Who brought me clothes and fresh air and books because I sarcastically asked for them. Who looked at me like I was something precious even when I was exhausted and scared and covered in spit-up.”
Becsul’s throat was tight. He couldn’t speak.
“You want to know what I was thinking when Trevan told us about the memory wipe?” She leaned closer, her forehead nearly touching his. “I was thinking about what it would mean for Robbie. Whether forgetting would be easier for him. Whether growing up on Earth, never knowing any of this happened, would be better than growing up in a galaxy he doesn’t belong to.”
His hearts clenched. “And?”
She glanced down at Robbie, still sleeping peacefully against Becsul’s chest. The infant had shifted in his sleep, one small hand now resting against Becsul’s sternum, directly over his primary heart.
As if he knows, Becsul thought. As if he’s claiming me.
“Look at him,” Melissa whispered. “Look at how safe he is with you. How completely he trusts you.”
“Children are adaptable. He could learn to trust someone else?—”
“He loves you.” Her voice was fierce now, protective. “I don’t care what anyone says about infant cognition or bonding patterns or whatever scientific terminology applies. My sonloves you. And I—” She stopped, took a breath, continued. “I love you. I’m in love with you. Not because I’m traumatized or confused or suffering from some kind of alien Stockholm syndrome. Because you’re the man—the person—I’ve been waiting for my entire life without knowing it.”
Becsul closed his eyes against the surge of emotion that threatened to overwhelm him. Hope and terror and joy and grief, all tangled together until he couldn’t separate them.
“You don’t have to decide now,” he managed. “We have time?—”
“I’ve already decided.” Her hand slid from his face to rest over his hearts, right next to Robbie’s tiny fingers. “I’m not going back. I’m not forgetting. And I’m sure as hell not letting some Patrol bureaucrat erase the best thing that ever happened to me.”
“But Earth—your home?—”
“Earth was where I lived. You’re my home now.” She said it simply, with absolute certainty. “You and Robbie. That’s where I belong.”
Becsul opened his eyes and found her watching him, her expression soft and certain and utterly determined. She meant it. Every word. He could see it in her face, feel it through the bond that had been growing between them from the first moment they met.
She chose me. She’s choosing me.
“I don’t deserve you,” he said hoarsely.
“Probably not.” Her smile was gentle, teasing. “But you’re stuck with me anyway.”
“I’m stuck with you.” He repeated the words like a vow, like a prayer. “For the rest of my life.”
“For the rest of our lives.” She leaned in and kissed him, soft and sweet and full of promise. When she pulled back, her eyes were bright with unshed tears. “So no more noble sacrifice talk. No more wondering if I’d be happier without you. You’re mine, Becsul nak’Larentar. And I’m yours. That’s the end of it.”
“That’s the end of it,” he agreed.
Robbie stirred between them, making a soft sound of contentment. His tiny hand flexed against Becsul’s chest, and his eyes fluttered open for a moment—dark and curious and utterly trusting—before sliding closed again.
Father, Becsul thought, the word settling into his hearts with profound certainty. I’m his father.
