Page 25 of What Makes an Alien a Dad?

She cast her eyes down, a tiny smile playing on her lips. “He had a bunch of silly nicknames for me.”

“Like what?”

“Oh, the usual. Babe, sweetie, and such...” She waved a hand in a vague gesture, her voice trailing off.

“Do you like the nicknames?” How could any reasonable person appreciate being called Pooh Bear?

“Some more than others.” She shrugged. “But it’s mostly the tone of voice that matters, not the nickname, isn’t it?”

“Not if the message is written,” he thought.

“The point is that he didn’t use any nicknames this time,” she continued. “The whole letter was just like two lines when he used to write me pages before. Now I wonder why he even bothered. Clearly, he isn’t into me anymore.”

Her chin trembled, and she glanced away quickly, fighting the tears. Relieved, he saw she won that fight just a moment later, looking at him again relatively calmly.

He had to figure out how it worked between people in a relationship. “So, a longer letter from this ass... I mean, your boyfriend would be better? Would it make you happier if he wrote more?”

“Well, it also depends on the content of the letter, of course. But yes, if he changed his mind and decided to wait until I’m back on Earth, then I would like to see him put all his reasoning behind his decision into that letter. After all, he took the time to write a very long one, telling why he was breaking up with me in the first place. He owes me an explanation on why he has changed his mind all of a sudden.”

That was another mistake Kear made. The letters from the human male were long and detailed. The guy probably talked a lot, too, loving to hear himself speak. Kear should’ve taken that into consideration when posing as him.

“So, a longer letter, with an explanation, using nicknames, would make you happy?” he summed it up out loud.

“Yes. Like a man in love would write, you know? Not like a lawyer contacting his client about something.”

And not like a scientist, pretending to write to his father. Apparently, he sucked in casual correspondence just as much as in casual conversation.

“Sorry, I unloaded it all on you.” She petted his hand again. “It’s not something you should concern yourself with.”

Oh, he was concerned. Very much so.

“I’ll write him back,” she said suddenly. “We’ll see what he says.”

Well, shit.

“You will?”

But why did he think she wouldn’t?

How did he assume that telling her to wait with the break-up would make her cease all correspondence with her boyfriend?

Last night, Kear’s sleep-deprived brain failed to consider the simple possibility that a woman would want to keep in touch with the man she thought she loved even if they agreed to “wait and see” with their relationship.

“Is that it?” Maya rose in her seat, pointing at the cluster of giant glass domes of the Central Mall.

“That’s it,” he confirmed as the aircraft descended toward the parking platform.

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