Chapter 10
Qylar pulled all of the parts of Cryss’s frozen Thanksgiving dinner out of the freezer and slid them into the nearly empty refrigerator to thaw ahead of the holiday and closed the door.
He scratched at his overgrown beard and lazily stumbled back into the living room, collapsing onto the sectional.
After refilling his tumbler with more vodka, he drained it, his fifth since waking up at three that afternoon still a bit drunk from the day before.
It had been a month since he’d last heard from Kenji.
He’d followed Alex’s ‘no pressure, leave him alone strategy,’ but that hadn’t worked, so he’d used more phones to try communicating with Kenji.
That hadn’t worked, either. He didn’t have an address, so he couldn’t show up and embarrass himself at the door.
So, drinking himself into oblivion was the only other obvious choice.
If he wasn’t doing something—or dulling his senses—his brain was going to spin out of control, and he’d end up losing his mind, worrying about Kenji and his babies.
If there were babies.
Given that he’d be showing by then—really showing if both eggs had taken—it seemed probable that Kenji wasn’t pregnant. He couldn’t imagine the guy was living his life, big belly and all, all around San Francisco without coming to him for help.
At least he hadn’t had to take Kenji to Nefyria to have the eggs removed. He wasn’t sure if he’d have been able to survive that.
A few more vodkas later and he was feeling no pain, exactly as planned. He turned on a football game, though he’d never watched them before, but sat glued to the screen. It was an American Thanksgiving tradition, so he might as well figure out the game at some point.
A knock sounded at the door.
Qylar turned his head in that direction. Had he ordered takeout and forgot again? Dragging himself off the sectional, he stumbled to the door and whipped it open.
Kenji stood in the center of it, wrapped in a big, puffy coat, staring up at him.
Qylar leaned on the doorframe, trying to keep himself mostly upright. He shoved a hand through his unkempt hair and tried to look mostly sober.
“You look like hell,” Kenji said.
“I feel great, though,” Qylar whispered.
“You’re drunk. Great,” Kenji muttered.
“That’s what I said,” Qylar slurred. “Greaaat.”
Kenji glared at him.
“Don’t look at me in that tone of voice,” Qylar said. “If someone had replied to one of the many, many text messages and let me know they were okay, I might’ve gotten a decent night’s sleep in the past month and not needed to self-medicate.”
“You’re not laying this at my feet,” Kenji said. “You got yourself into this mess all on your own.”
“I’m not saying I’m not responsible, because I’ve made a few really stupid mistakes, but… a text letting me know you were alive would’ve allowed my brain to stop spiraling and I wouldn’t have needed to make it quiet.”
“Is it quiet now?”
“Not as quiet as I hope to make it by later tonight,” Qylar replied.
“Well? Are you going to invite me in? Before you’re too blitz to talk to me?”
Qylar stepped back and waved his arm, ushering Kenji in. “Come on in. The party’s jumping.”
Kenji eyed him before crossing the threshold.
Qylar shut the door and spun, pressing his back against it. He watched as Kenji looked around the living area, stunned the man was in his house again. “Should I offer to take your coat or are you not staying long?”
“How long I stay depends on you,” Kenji said.
“If I had my way, you would stay indefinitely. Maybe even forever. You know we’re mates, right?” Qylar slid up his sleeve, showing off the imprint. “You’ve taken possession of me. I have proof right here.”
“Possession?”
“All you have to do is mark the other one and I’m officially yours forever,” Qylar said, whispering the last word loudly.
“You’re not a very good drunk, you know?”
Qylar chuckled. “I don’t have much practice at it yet but give me a little time and I’ll figure this shit out. I’m really good at figuring shit out.”
“Yeah, I bet you are.” Kenji drew in a deep breath and let it out. “Well, I have something you can help me figure out.”
“What’s that?”
Kenji slid his big, puffy jacket off his shoulders. When his slightly swollen stomach appeared, Qylar’s gaze went straight to it.
“Oh, shit,” Qylar said, his head spinning. “You’re pregnant.”
“Yes, I am, Captain Obvious.”
Qylar scrubbed his face with both hands. “I’m too drunk for this right now.”
“Yeah, you just might be.” Kenji hung his coat on the rack by the door. “Let’s go make you some coffee and sober you up, hmm?”
“Okay,” Qylar whispered.
Qylar sat on one of the kitchen stools, pouring a third cup of coffee into him while Kenji checked out the fridge. There was a mass of boxes inside, but they all appeared frozen.
“Do you have anything to eat? I’m starving.”
Qylar slid his phone across the island toward the fridge. “Order whatever you want. Most of the delivery apps are on there.”
“I didn’t ask you to buy me dinner.”
“My children are growing inside you. It’s the least I can do.”
Kenji closed the fridge and snagged Qylar’s phone. “I suppose it is the least you can do.”
He opened the phone as he rounded the island. “Are you hungry?”
Qylar drained the last of his coffee. “I suppose food could help absorb some of the alcohol sloshing around in my stomach.”
“You might actually end up sober. I’m surprised the coffee’s done so well already.”
“We metabolize alcohol differently,” Qylar said. “We have to drink a lot, really fast or we can’t get drunk—and then it burns off faster, too, so we have to drink even more to stay drunk. It’s why I rarely touch hard liquor.”
“Maybe that’s why I’ve never really been able to get far past tipsy,” Kenji said. “Hmmm… learn something new every day.” He eyed the restaurants listed on DoorDash and landed on one Qylar apparently ordered from a lot. Oodle Yunnan Noodle. “This noodle place any good?”
“Oh, yeah… that sounds amazing right now,” Qylar said, scrubbing his face. “If you’re interested, of course. You pick.”
“I can go for some noodles.”
“Put in what you want and hand it over and I’ll add some more.”
Kenji made a pick and slid the phone back over. Qylar scanned his phone and pressed the screen a few times before completing the order. He sat the phone down on the counter and eyed Kenji. “Thirty to forty minutes.”
Kenji hadn’t been sure he’d even stay that long before he’d said his peace. He hadn’t expected to have to sober Qylar up before doing that, either.
“So…?” Qylar murmured.
“So…” Kenji said.
“You showed up at my door. I assume you have something you want to talk about.”
“I do,” Kenji replied. He drew in a deep breath and let it out. “Is it too late to have these eggs removed?”
Qylar’s eyes lost their glimmer, and his expression went numb. “Technically no, it’s not too late, although it’s usually done much sooner than this.”
Awkward silence filled in around them.
“Why didn’t you come to me sooner?” Qylar asked quietly.
“I think I was in an ‘ignore it and it might go away’ mind state but now it’s gotten to a point where I can’t ignore it anymore, especially when folks are mentioning me getting fatter by the day—and by folks, I mean my shitty roommate.”
“You need to get away from him.”
“I’m working on that, but finding affordable housing in this city isn’t exactly easy.”
“You could move in here,” Qylar replied.
“And exchange one problem for another. No thanks.”
“I’m a problem?” Qylar asked. He nodded. “Okay.”
“I clearly needed time and space—but you wouldn’t let up. The more you pushed, the more I avoided you. And now,” Kenji said, waving at his stomach. “I’ve waited way too long to take care of this, simply because I didn’t want to come here and get pushed even harder.”
“I’m sorry,” Qylar murmured. “I was just worried about you. And… I missed you.”
“We only had one night and one interrogation. That wasn’t enough for you to know me well enough to miss me,” Kenji said, ignoring the ache inside. He’d missed Qylar, too, and he was pissed he did. They barely knew one another. How could he miss someone he didn’t know?
“I think we had a little more than that. We had a connection. One I still feel.”
I do, too. “You’re pushing again.”
Qylar inhaled deeply before rising with his cup in hand. He poured himself another and sat back down, silent.
“When can we go get this handled?”
“Well, not today, obviously. I need to fully sober up first.” Qylar shrugged. “And I’d need to prepare the ship for a longer voyage than she’d had in a while. We can leave the day after tomorrow, probably.”
“On Thanksgiving?” Kenji shrugged. “You know what? It’s as good a time as any. We need to get this done as soon as possible.”
Qylar stared down into his cup, silent.
“How long does it take to get there?”
“A little over a day,” Qylar replied, his voice flat.
“I assumed it would be longer,” Kenji said.
“Our hyperdrives make travel pretty quick, even on an older model like mine—plus we have the wormhole that cuts days off the trip.”
Kenji sat up straighter, curious. “We’re going through a wormhole?”
Qylar nodded.
“That’s so cool.”
Qylar’s gaze darted to his, but he dragged it away almost as fast. “Yeah. I suppose so.”
“Is there anything I should prepare… or do… before we leave? Should I pack a bag? If so, for how long?”
“Once we arrive, it might take a couple of days to find a doctor willing to perform the removal and potentially a few days before they can get you in. I wouldn’t imagine it would be more than a week. We can always pick up things you need while we’re there, if we have to.”
“Is it anything like Earth?”
“Quite similar,” Qylar said. “Your needs will be met and then some.”
“Okay.”
“After we eat and I sober up some more, I can drive you to your place and you can pack up a bag.”
“We’re not leaving for a couple of days. It can wait.”
“You’re staying here until we leave.”
“Why?”