Page 56 of How My Fake Alien Boyfriend Learned to Cook and Saved the Family Business

Kal

All my life, I had wanted to find a place where I belonged. And now, I was pretty sure I had.

Except that wasn’t true. I had to remind myself of the truth over and over again.

This is not my home. I am a stranger here. This human isn’t mine, and I am not hers.

I was still on Earth by accident. As much as I felt like I belonged, I didn’t. I was a stranger and a visitor, nothing more.

Could I be something more here on Earth?

No. No. That’s not how things worked.

Even the most experienced terranauts stationed on Earth only stayed for several years before returning to Xaerea. I was playing a waiting game, and I shouldn’t think otherwise. It wouldn’t be much longer before a Xaerean ship came to collect me, to take me back to the planet where I grew up.

My home planet, but not my home.

It would be foolish to hope for a different outcome, and even I wasn’t fool enough to expect things would work out in my favor.

But it was getting harder and harder not to wish for it.

“It was so brave of you,” Lola’s mom said, gripping my head between her two small hands, “to leave Ohio.”

“Thank you?” I said, for lack of a better response.

“Mom!” Lola came into the kitchen and pried her mother’s hands from my face. “Let’s give Kal some breathing room, okay?” She tugged me gently by the wrist, so I stood beside her.

“We’re going to head out. Thank you for the…food.” Lola said the last word with a hint of hesitation and a squeeze to my wrist. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

And then we all said our goodbyes, which turned into a back-and-forth volley between Lola and her mom—the latter insisting she take the leftovers, and the former firmly turning them down.

“Mom, please,” Lola said, halfway out the door with me by her side, still trying to push the container of food back into her mother’s arms. “I’m a chef. I work in a restaurant. I don’t need more food.”

“Well, I’m your mother, Lollipop, and I say you do,” she said with finality, thrusting the container one last time.

Lola relented, mumbling thankyouIloveyougoodnight, as I watched on bemused. Truthfully, I didn’t understand half of what happened that evening, between the unusual food and the unfamiliar topics of conversation. But none of that seemed to matter.

I was accepted. I had been treated with patience and kindness. Even as an outsider, I was treated like someone who belonged.

And I was beginning to grow used to it—that was the dangerous part.

Lola led me across the yard, still holding onto my wrist, and up the stairs to her living quarters. I was struck by how familiar the place felt to me now, after no time at all. Even the smell was familiar now that I knew what it was. Vanilla and sugar mixed with cinnamon. It smelled like Lola. It smelled like home.

I pulled my wrist from Lola’s grasp and rubbed at my chest. Why did it hurt suddenly? And why did I feel like I couldn’t breathe?

“Kal?” Lola asked, her voice full of concern. “What’s wrong?”

I pressed the button at the back of my neck and ripped at my suit, letting it fall around me in heavy folds. It didn’t help; the suit wasn’t the problem. Turning to a different method. I wrapped my arms and tentacles around myself, holding firm. A little better.

“Kal?”

A hand on my arm, soft and warm. Lola was whispering, “It’s okay. Whatever happened, it’ll be okay.”

I could feel her shifting my arms so she could wrap her own around me. I loosened my tentacles’ hold and let her in, both of us enveloped in a hug.

We stood like that for I’m not sure how long until Lola finally spoke again.

“Was it my family? I knew they could be a lot and I should have just…”