The Hotel Mérida, Later That Night
Back in the limo, Matt leaned across the leather seat, kissed T’mari’s hand, and gave her a smile that was more weary than triumphant.
“That wasn’t exactly how I planned it,” he said, “but it worked.”
“You mean—?”
“She was already flagged anti-V’ren,” he explained. “Your anger made it undeniable. She’ll be gone by morning.”
“I was wrong,” she whispered, still unsettled by how quickly her temper had slipped.
“No,” Matt said firmly. “You were authentic. That mattered more than perfection. People can forgive passion. They don’t forgive artifice.”
The limo slowed before the hotel, Mérida’s humid night wrapping them in the scent of bougainvillea and roasted maize from street vendors outside. By the time they reached their suite, T’monn had stepped quietly from her adjoining room, her expression unreadable.
“There are things I don’t understand,” she said calmly, her posture formal but her eyes searching.
Matt crossed to the bar, tugged at his tie, and poured cocktails. He handed one to her without ceremony.
T’monn blinked at the taste, caught between surprise and curiosity.
“Congratulations, Mom,” T’mari teased, laughter breaking the tension. “You’ve now had Sex on the Beach with my husband.”
Realization dawned, and even T’monn let out a rare laugh. For a moment the heaviness lifted.
But then she set the glass down. “L’tani’s pregnancy must be entered in the medical database by midnight. The father’s name will be attached.”
Matt exhaled slowly, the weight of duty settling on his shoulders. “Then hear me now: I will acknowledge both babies as mine, and love them equally — as every good father should.”
The words landed like stones in still water. No V’ren alive could remember such a thing. Polygamy existed only in legend, whispered in half-remembered myths.
But T’mari pressed further, her voice steady despite the storm in her chest.
“You should also marry my mother,” she said, her voice low, but resolute.
Matt froze, staring first at her, then at T’monn. “You’re serious?”
“I am,” T’mari sighed. “You haven’t yet read our foundation myths. Once you do, you’ll understand why this could be a good thing. It may be the best way to protect Earth as well.”
Matt swirled the last of his drink, then pushed the glass into T’monn’s hands as if passing her the weight of the question. “How so?”
“I already discussed this possibility with W’ren,” T’mari continued. “He agrees. But it is his role as Keeper of the Flame to explain it to you. He’ll be with us again in Hiroshima. For now—” she touched her belly lightly “—let’s eat. I’m starving, and you promised food.”
T’monn met Matt’s gaze over the rim of her glass. “Matthew, I think I know where she is going with this. And it is quite possible she is right. But I will not usurp W’ren’s duty. Be patient.”
Later, on the balcony overlooking Mérida’s restless lights, Matt pulled T’mari close. Music drifted up from the streets below — guitars, laughter, the pulse of a city alive even in the night.
“I’m sad,” he confessed, his voice quiet against her hair. “Sad that I can’t give you all of me.”
Her answer came soft but fierce, wrapped around him like the humid air. “Love is like a candle. The more it is shared, the brighter it burns. I would give up every hour with you if it meant our people thrived.”
The Yucatán night wrapped around them, heavy and eternal. Below, the city pulsed with life. Above, a bond — uncharted, unbroken — was reshaping the future of two peoples.
