to the wife and children. The woman was dark-haired too, but with reddish tones. She beamed at whomever had taken the still, happy with her lot in life. The youngsters took after her, except for the eyes. Hazel, like Tina’s.
The girl child was too young to have been told about Tina, but what about the boy? Did he know he had an older sister who’d hoped to meet him someday? Had he ever seen a picture or vid of her, or was she nonexistent, her presence entirely erased?
“The children are beautiful.” He handed back the frame.
“I think so, but I might not be the most objective person to ask,” Tina laughed. She switched the frame off and tucked it into her little bag again before settling at the foot of the sleeping mat to continue designing her dress.
Yorso’s chest and gut ached as he watched her. He was damned near nauseous. Tina had been cut off from her family. He’d not cared in his ignorance. In his self-absorption. What kind of man was he?
Not much of one. And I wasn’t before she came along. How badly have I hurt Tukui and Osopa because I’m attached to the approval of others?
His parents had possessed the sense to yank him out of the limelight at an early age, but that hadn’t kept Yorso from enjoying the attention that better-than-average looks and charm to spare had earned him. Being the center of attention was a drug.
Fortunately, he didn’t begrudge Tina taking that spot from him within the clan. Indeed, he wanted to elevate her in every manner possible. It felt good to worry about how she felt about herself instead of what everyone else thought about him.
You forgot she had a life long before you. She’s the center of your universe now. Respect that.
Staring at his borrowed personal handheld, Tina groaned. “Aw, pickle juice.”
Yorso tossed his work device aside, ready to assist. “What is it?”
She grimaced and turned the handheld so the design on the holoscreen swung into view. The dress had been superimposed over a full-length still of herself.
At least, he believed it was supposed to be a dress. Maybe there was a gown under the hectic nightmare of multicolored bows and lace and ribbons, but it wasn’t visible.
“It’s safe to say I don’t have an eye for designing clothes.” Tina burst out laughing
The peals of hilarity made Yorso laugh too. “That gown is, um—that’s something.”
With a swipe of her fingers, she erased it from existence. “I’ll stick to mending, at least when you let me.”
“Okay. What interest would you like to try next?”
“I’ve done enough damage to the fashion world and beyond for one day. Let me gather the shattered remains of my self-respect before I face another of my shortcomings.” Tina fell over on her side, her hand held to her brow, dropping the handheld onto the mat with affected despair.
“Fortunately, you have few of those.” Yorso crawled forward to plant a kiss on those plump, smiling lips.
“Stop, you shameless flatterer.” She pushed against his chest in pretended rejection, every inch an actress worthy of a vid drama. “How can I trust you when you lie with such earnestness?”
He fell into her improvised scene, delighted to play along. “You’re my goddess, my everything. I worship you.”
She flung her arms around his neck. With breathy exaggeration, she cried, “Then take me from all this war and pain. Free me from this room that’s only big enough for the bed. Give me cruises on the endless ocean and suites filled with roses. Give me mountaintops from which to shout your adoration.”
“I’m but a poor cultural liaison. But I’ll take you as far as I can—which would mean the shower over there. I’ll carry you the entire distance.”
“That’s a nice way of telling me I smell bad.”
Yorso bellowed laughter at her surprising sally. She huffed, then dropped the act to grin at him. His heart melted.
He was falling for his Matara. There was no doubt about it.
“Suggesting the shower was a bid to get you naked and wet, along with an excuse to dodge coms from Captain Tranis and Dr. Degorsk. I won’t have to fight Tukui and Osopa for the privilege of joining you either.”
“Hmm. The vision of you naked and wet doesn’t hurt my feelings a bit. But—”
“But what?”
She wavered for an instant, then gathered herself. “We have to come to an agreement about a serious matter.”
It sounded serious. “Which is?”
“I get to perform a service. You’ll let me wash you.”