GalacticInferno by Mel Teshco Page B

if I’ve known him my whole life.
    Renate’s breath was warm on her ear, startling her out of
such intense thoughts as he murmured, “Are you all right, kitten?”
    Her eyelids flicked apart. He was watching her. Closely. He
knows.
    “I…I’m not sure.”
    And as if aware she wasn’t ready just yet to face such a
profound truth, he said, “Let’s see if we can find you some clean clothes,
hmm.”
    She let out a slow breath. “Good idea.”
    A good ten minutes later they were clean, dry and dressed.
He in his odd, alien long pants that never seemed to get dirty and she in a
pair of too-big denim jeans and a white, oversized short-sleeved blouse.
    For the time being she left her feet bare, luxuriating in
the blessed lightness as she moved through the house. She glanced at the round
wall clock that ticked in the silence. 1.15 pm. Her stomach growled as she
headed to the pantry.
    Relief coursed through her as she saw the contents. She
turned to Renate. He was reclining on an overstuffed chair, the ginger cat
curled up on his lap and undoubtedly purring like an engine, Bonnie at his
feet.
    A smile stretched her face. If she didn’t know better she’d
say Renate was the epitome of domesticity. She cleared her throat and
announced, “There’s enough food here to make a decent lunch. And since this
house has a gas stove and running water I’m going to cook us up a feast.”
    He smoothed a hand over the back of Leopold’s back, his eyes
slumberous and possessive all at once. “You’re cooking for me?”
    “Don’t worry, you’re in safe hands. In fact, I can rustle up
a mean meal when the mood takes me.”
    “On my world, when a woman cooks for a man, it’s a sign of
her commitment.”
    “Really? Then I better make sure I don’t burn the water.”
    At his raised brow, she swung away with a repressed giggle,
retrieving saucepans and putting them on the gas stove. She paused at the
pantry doors. When was the last time she’d been so happy?
    She pressed a hand to her head. A memory surfaced, hitting
hard.
    * * * * *
    She couldn’t hold back the grin plastered to her face as she
pushed open the front door.
    Pregnant. At last. She could hardly believe it.
    She’d taken the afternoon off work to see the doctor, hoping
against hope that the queasiness she’d experienced the last few weeks really
was from what she’d suspected. They’d been trying for months now to conceive.
    She’d caught a taxi straight away and rode the dozen blocks
to Luke’s firm, only to be told by his receptionist that he’d left work early
too.
    Please be home.
    She didn’t want to tell him the good news over his cell
phone. She wanted to see his joy, bask in his pleasure.
    He wasn’t anywhere downstairs, though she found his
tailor-made jacket slung over the balustrade. She arched a brow, plucking it on
the way upstairs to the second story. That was so unlike Luke. He was
fastidious to a fault.
    He was probably in all kinds of hurry for a shower. No doubt
he came home to get refreshed before leaving for another interminable meeting.
It made sense he’d wear his jacket again.
    She cradled her still-flat belly, where butterflies danced
and jived inside. What if he wasn’t happy with the news? What if he’d decided,
after all this waiting, that two children were more than enough?
    Turning left at the stairs, she rounded the hallway and
headed toward the main bedroom.
    She heard the shower running full tilt. Tossing his jacket
over a nearby chair, she shrugged free of her fitted, charcoal coat and threw
it beside Luke’s, then unbuttoned her silky, egg-shell colored blouse as she
headed for the en suite.
    She licked her bottom lip. She felt inclined to share more
than some good news.
    Toeing off her high heels, she walked on silent, stockinged
feet into the bathroom. Beside the large, shiny white bathtub, she froze,
hardly able to comprehend the scene before her.
    Luke’s buttocks were pressed against the clear Perspex of
the shower