Page 65 of How My Fake Alien Boyfriend Learned to Cook and Saved the Family Business

“Pfft,” I blew a raspberry at him. “It’s the twenty-first century, Dad, not the sixties. I wasn’t asking for your approval.”

“But you got it all the same,” he said with a soft smile and a squeeze of my forearm. “Enthusiastically.”

Dad gave me a knowing glance, the kind that said everything that needs to be said without a single word being spoken. I know how deeply you care for people, it said. I know you want to be there for everyone else. And I’m happy, so happy, you finally have someone who will take care of you like you take care of everyone else.

My parents didn’t linger for long after that, both pressing kisses to my cheek and telling me how proud they were. A part of me still wanted to downplay their praise. Shout that they wouldn’t be so proud if they knew just how badly I’d failed the restaurant at first, if they knew how many times I had thought about giving up and running away.

But the fact of the matter was that I didn’t give up, and that was something to be proud of.

I waved my parents and brother off, and clicked the deadbolt behind them.

When I turned, my best friend and my—well, my Kal—were holding fluffy bouquets of bright pink flowers.

Then I did finally break down and cry. Happy tears, obviously.

“I told him he shouldn’t have picked them from out front,” Nat said right away, pointing an accusatory finger at Kal.

I laughed and wrapped them both in a bone-crushing hug.

Kal

I didn’t think it was possible to feel quite so uncomfortable in my human suit.

It was always a little awkward to be squeezed into it—sort of tight, kind of itchy—but never like this. My feet were so swollen they felt like they were pulsating, and my muscles ached.

All it took was a glance at Lola, smiling as she wiped down the counters, laughing at whatever her best friend Nat was saying, and I was smiling, too.

I also felt happy. Or was it contentment? Full in a way that reminded me of butterflies and flowers blooming in a wide open meadow and the way Lola looked at me like I mattered.

It felt a lot like love.

Lola glanced up from her task, and I almost forgot how to breathe.

In the next second, my stomach sank.

How was it that in a universe as infinite as this, I had landed here and met this woman? It should have felt like nothing less than fate written in the stars. Except…our time was almost up. And I was too cowardly to tell Lola the truth, either because I didn’t want to upset her before her big day or because I knew I couldn’t handle her reaction. Or a combination of both.

At least I could go back to Xaerea knowing I’d helped Lola achieve her dream. That could be enough. Look at everything I had experienced! It was truly amazing that I’d arrived on Earth at all, not to mention that I was able to seamlessly embed into a human community. (Though, seamless may have been an overstatement.)

And I’d just happened to get taken in by the sweetest human on the planet.

With a heavy sigh, I finished in the dish pit and hung up my apron—probably for the last time.

It’s a good thing you’re leaving soon, before you could ruin this, too.

The negative voice in my head was back. I had managed to temper the bad thoughts for the past few weeks, but…maybe they were right this time.

Look at how great everything had turned out for Lola. All of her hard work had paid off. Even when she was in pain—which was my fault to begin with—Lola pushed through and accomplished all of this.

To put it plainly, Lola was amazing. I was just…me. Someone she took in out of pity and a kind heart, who was a liability.

What was I to her, really? Just another disaster waiting to happen.

I watched Lola flick a hand towel at her best friend, both of them giggling. When she lifted her apron over her head, Lola’s face was flushed, her twin blue moon eyes shining.

No, Lola didn’t need someone like me around.

But I worried that if I stayed in Roswell Falls much longer, I would always need her, which meant I would always take from her. Because that’s what Kalexdyorn Tirinn always did. I created messes that other people always had to clean up. I made mistakes, and someone always ended up resenting me for them.