Date: May 5, 2440 Time: 8:30 PM
“You missed dinner,” Angelina said, setting a tray on the desk. “Again.”
“Thanks,” Matt sighed, lifting the top slice of thick homemade bread—surprised to find headcheese underneath. “I’d offer you a beer, but I think I ran out about eight hours ago.”
“And because you were so busy, you forgot to mention that too,” she said, lifting a small cooler onto the desk—one he hadn’t even noticed her carry in. She pulled out an ice-cold Dr Pepper instead of a beer. Too many late-night beers when he was alone, and he’d get all maudlin on her.
“Thanks,” he said again, popping the top.
“So what has you working this late?” she asked, snagging a deviled egg off the tray.
“Waiting for you, actually. And thinking,” he said. “Thinking about twins I never got to meet. About what they would’ve thought, having aliens just… drop in on us.”
“So who’s bending your ear about heirs now?” she asked.
“All the usual suspects. Part of me wants to tell them to leave me alone—that Beks is my heir.”
“And you won’t, for the same reason you don’t want her father to know. Now that we’ve got that bullshit out of the way, tell me what’s really bothering you.”
Matt hesitated, then finally said the thing his AI therapist had been trying to drag out of him for years.
“I’m scared,” he admitted. “It hurts so much, thinking about losing someone again. I don’t even know if I want to try.”
Angelina didn’t flinch. “Amy would kick your ass if she heard you talking like that. Don’t use her death as an excuse to deny yourself a chance to be whole again.”
She held his gaze for a moment, then nodded toward the tray. “Eat your sandwich. And go to bed. If you’re not up with coffee ready when I get here in the morning, I’m sending MJ up with a key and a bucket of ice.”
“Cruel woman,” he muttered, snagging the second deviled egg before she could.
