Total pages in book: 36
Estimated words: 34065 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 170(@200wpm)___ 136(@250wpm)___ 114(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 34065 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 170(@200wpm)___ 136(@250wpm)___ 114(@300wpm)
Here? Later? She makes it sound like it’s a foregone conclusion that there will be a “later” for us. And god, I want that so much, but I don’t want to presume. It feels a little wrong, too, given that she doesn’t know my secret.
She holds her spare clothes out to me. “Come on, Ruth-Ann. Shake a leg. If I wait too long, people are going to go looking for me.”
“Are they?” I ask, slipping into my borrowed pants.
“Well, no. Just you.” And her grin is like the sun coming through the clouds. I’m dazzled all over again.
God, I’m absolutely gone for her.
Simone’s clothes don’t fit right at all. The tunic fits me like a dress instead of a shirt, and her pants have to be rolled up twice at the waist, and once at the cuff. But the fabric smells like her soap and I’m more than happy to wear her things.
We part with a kiss when we get into town. I take my enormous cake down the walk towards Sunrise Cantina and away from her cart.
“You sure you don’t want me to come by and help later?” she calls out after me.
“I’m sure,” I yell back. “Take Pluto home and have yourself a nap. I’ll find you.”
Jerzec is in the doorway with a broom, watching me as I approach. He makes a kissy face at me when I come in. “Have yourself a nap, lovely human. I’ll find you later,” he mimics in a high-pitched voice. “Your cookies taste so good, but not as good as your lips, sweet Simone.”
Accurate, but I’m not going to tell him that. I glare at him and indicate the cake. “Say one more thing and you’re going to be wearing this.”
He just laughs and holds the door open wider for me. “Ruth said you didn’t come home last night, but I thought she was wrong. I thought, surely not our sweet little rule follower, Ruth-Ann. I guess she was right.”
“Shut up,” I mutter. My ears are hot, though.
I carry the cake back to the kitchen, and in the back, next to Zaemen, is my very pregnant twin, Ruth. Her long hair is pulled back in a messy bun and she wears one of Zaemen’s many colorful aprons over the bulge of her stomach. With a round cutter, she’s shaping meat patties on the counter, a look of distaste on her face.
“Ruth, what are you doing here?” I say, surprised. “How are you feeling?”
Ever since she got pregnant, Ruth has stayed more or less on the ship. She loves the idea of Risda but is far more comfortable in the swanky quarters that Lord Straik shares with her, and her husband is usually at her side at all times. I’m thrilled for her that he’s so devoted. One of the good ones, Ruthie likes to joke.
So it’s a surprise to see my sister out here in Port, and even more of a surprise to see her in the kitchen.
“I’m helping,” she says, wrinkling her nose and wiping a bit of ground meat off one gloved finger. “Kaz and Ruthie were going on and on this morning about how crazy it was yesterday, so I thought I’d come by and pitch in.”
“Are you feeling all right?” I ask, settling the cake down a good distance away from the meat-assembling. “How’s the sickness today?”
“Well, it was fine until I started squishing meat with my hands,” she says, taking a step back from her station. “Now I’m regretting my choices. And speaking of choices, are you going to tell us about the hickey on your neck, or are we pretending that’s not a thing?”
I clap a hand on my neck, eyes wide.
“Wrong side.”
I clap my other hand on the opposite side of my neck.
She leans against the counter. “You want to tell me what’s going on?”
“Nothing,” I scoff. “Why would something be going on?”
“You and your bakery buddy aren’t…I don’t know. Hot crossing buns? Is that even a thing? Because it should be a thing.” Ruth tilts her head, regarding me.
For some reason, I feel defensive. Am I not supposed to have a relationship since I’m a clone? Is that what she’s getting at? Or is she just being nosy? I hesitate, trying to decide how to answer in a way that doesn’t incriminate myself or Simone, or make my sister nervous. Ruthie is one breath away from a panic attack at all times, but Ruth is more relaxed about most things.
Most things. She’s also pregnant and her husband’s mother is being investigated for slave trading. So there’s definitely a few stressors in her life currently. I don’t want to add to them, especially not when I haven’t figured out the situation myself.
Luckily, Zaemen returns with a large container of cooking oil. He brightens at the sight of me and the cake I brought. “Kef yeah! More cake? I swear I ate half the thing myself last night.”