insane.”
Ellie shrugs. “Isn’t this all insane?” She puts a hand on her belly. “I never thought I’d get knocked up by an alien.”
I laugh. "Alien or not, I never thought I'd intentionally have a baby with a guy that I'd only know for just a few days.
That hits me hard when I say it aloud. I really have not known Raiska for even a week. I feel like I know him so well, so deeply, and I am glad to be having his baby. If I had told myself even a few weeks ago that I was going to meet a guy and get pregnant with him within a few days, I'd probably have slapped my future self upside the head in hope of knocking some sense into her.
"It was a bit longer for me," Ellie says. "Sounds like you might have set some kind of record."
"I doubt it's a record for the Breeding Games."
I shudder every time I say or hear "The Breeding Games."
Ellie holds up a cookie. It's fresh out of the oven. She breaks it in half, and the chocolate chips are still warm and gooey. The chocolate pulls apart like a gooey string, and Ellie hands me half of the cookie. "Try it."
I take a bite. It's wonderful. It's not just a chocolate chip cookie. There's definitely chocolate in there, but there's something else too. It's some kind of spice. It tastes familiar. I think I ate this spice in one of the dishes from Kula's restaurant, but I never tasted it in something as sweet as a chocolate chip cookie.
"Wow." My mouth is still full, and the cookie is a bit too hot to eat, so I have to play a bit of hot potato with it in my mouth to stop it from burning my tongue.
"I bet you set another record in the Breeding Games," Ellie says. "You were probably the only woman to ever get willingly pregnant during the games."
I laugh. "I wasn't exactly gunning to get pregnant from the start. By the end though...yeah, I guess I was. And not just to end the games."
She takes another bite of her cookie, chews with her eyes closed and a big smile on her face, then swallows. "I'll be honest with you, Annabelle. I didn't like Raiska."
I laugh. "You think? I could tell that as clear as day. I'm not as socially stunted as Kula or Raiska. You've seriously been away from other humans too long if you think I couldn't have read that on your face, your words, your body language—"
"Okay, stop," she says. "I get it."
"It's fine, Ellie. You and Raiska had some bad blood, as did Raiska and Kula. I'm glad we're all over it now though. It feels a lot better to be close to people who you have already aired out your grievances with, you know?"
"How do you mean?"
"Well, think about the annoying Uncle at Thanksgiving. You're close to him because he's family, but you only see him once or twice a year, and he always gets on your nerves—"
"For me, it's a cousin," Ellie says.
"The point being, Kula and Raiska hated each other at first. You hated Raiska too—he didn't hate you, by the way."
"He did hate Kula."
I just smile. "He did. Now that we've worked through that though, we're closer than ever. The annoying uncle or cousin was always just kind of there. Even if Kula annoys me in the future, I went through a lot with him, and that will always color our relationship. My annoying uncle or your cousin, probably you never had any significant shared experiences or ordeals with them."
"Interesting," Ellie says. "I hadn't thought of it like that."
"Like what?" Raiska asks, stumbling into the kitchen and yawning wide. He stretches his hands up into the air, then wraps an arm around me. "Feeding Little Raiska cookies?"
"Freshly made food for the baby," Kula says. "That's key! No synthesizer crap for my Little Kula either."
"Wait, wait," Ellie says. "What is this 'Little Raiska' and 'Little Kula' crap? When did I agree to name the kid that? What if it's a girl?"
"This is Aparan tradition," Kula says, putting a hand on Ellie's belly. "Regardless of gender, our child will be called Little Kula."
"This is tradition?" Raiska asks, "really?"
"Of course," Kula says. He gives Raiska a look to let him know he's trying to pull one over on Ellie, but Raiska doesn't pick up on the meaning. He even winks, but that confuses Raiska even more.
"Perhaps I