Page 36 of What Makes an Alien a Dad?

I suddenly found myself intrigued, too, as the warmth of his touch spread from my hand to the rest of my body. It swirled in my stomach, making me lightheaded.

Had I ever felt like this before with anyone else?

And more importantly, did I want to go there?

I had a boyfriend. Kind of. Walter hadn’t explicitly stated he wanted us to be a couple again, but his latest letters held hope for our relationship.

He sounded different than before. Gone were the silly nicknames he liked giving me. Surprisingly, there were none of his usual complaints, either. He didn’t really write anything about himself at all. Instead, his words were saturated with concerns for me.

He sounded mature, supportive, and wishing to solve my problems, instead of just complaining about his.

And maybe Walter had grown in my absence? Maybe living on his own had helped him mature, since he didn’t have me around to make sure he had milk for his cereal or a clean shirt for work.

Either way, I felt we might have a chance again. In his letters now, he seemed to hold back a little, not throwing words around just to convince me. Like he was trying to step back and start from a better place this time. And I was all for it.

But if so, there was no place for any “curiosity” or “intrigue” between the handsome Voranian professor and me.

I gently freed my hand from his hold.

“What happened to the paint you had on your horns?” I attempted to ease the charged tension hanging between us by changing the subject.

“The paint?” He lifted his hand to his horns that had been scrubbed free from the silver spirals he’d had painted on during the visit to the barber while I was in the fitting room in Lievoa’s store. “Did you like the paint?”

Every Voranian in the park had their horns painted, men and women. Some used glowing neon colors or the reflective glitter paint that made the designs on their horns sparkle and shine as if illuminated.

“It was pretty.” I loved the Voranian unapologetic passion for everything loud and bright. The professor’s simple spirals had looked rather plain in comparison. But now, even they were gone.

“I had them painted for a special occasion, an event I attended last weekend.”

“What event was it? If you don’t mind my asking.”

“Not at all. It was an assembly of professionals in my field of Interspecies Reproduction. I made a speech. So, I had to look fashionable for the crowd and the pictures.” He gave me a shy smile.

He could be so proud and confident about his work and at the same time so insecure and bashful over the paint on his horns.

“What was your speech about?”

He rested his gaze on me. “You.”

“Me?”

His eyes flicked down to my middle.

“Oh.” I splayed a hand on my belly covered by my dusty-rose maternity dress, one of the three that we’d bought from Lievoa’s store. “Right. Interspecies reproduction. That would be me, wouldn’t it? How did your speech go?”

His face lit up at once, his voice lifting. “Very good. This study is of utmost interest in the scientific community. I wasn’t the only one working in this area.”

“But you are the only one who succeeded.”

“So far. Yes. Though there are at least two other scientists who have come close to breakthroughs of their own.”

“No matter what, they can never be first anymore, right? I’m the only one pregnant.”

“Well, speed is important, but it’s not everything in this case. There is always room for improvement in any method. If theirs turns out to be in any way safer or more efficient...”

His voice trailed off, and I finished for him, “Would it take away from your achievement?”

He drew in a breath, flattening his lips against his teeth. “I try not to look at it that way. At the end of the day, our goal is the same—to give humans and Voranians a safe alternative to the current system.”

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