“Sweet and a little spicy. Good,” he said truthfully.
“Has a nice smokey flavor,” Bragg said.
“John!” Faith gave him a too-gentle jab in the ribs. “It does not. It’s fine.”
“I wish the fruit topping hadn’t gotten ruined. A cake should be frosted and served with ice cream, but they don’t have milk products, so no butter, cream, or cheese for icing, which would have melted off anyway, given they put a torch in it!”
“Maybe they could milk a horniger,” Faith suggested.
“I wouldn’t want that job,” Bragg said. They all laughed.
“No, I’m sure shearing them for the fur is problematic enough,” Amity said.
“How did you arrange this?” He was still a little choked up.
“I told Lucento what I wanted, and he arranged for it.”
They offered cake to the aliens at their table, but they declined. He and Bragg ate another piece, and then the robo wrapped up the remainder for them to take with them.
The four of them left the mess hall together. Frigid wind whipped through the open area, grabbing at coats and hair. Amity tugged on her gloves and then hunkered into her coat, pulling the collar up to her ears. “Next thing I m-m-make is going to be a hat,” she said, her teeth chattering. Temperature plummeted with the starset.
He wrapped his arm around her to protect her from the wind. The four of them hurried to the residential zone in silence, no one inclined to chitchat in the frigid night.
Upon arriving at their unit, they parted company with their friends and hurried inside.
“Oh, it’s warm!” Amity exclaimed. “I’m glad we stoked the stove before dinner. Gladyoustoked it,” she amended with a wry grin. She had yet to touch one of the horniger bricks. He didn’t mind. He was glad to do it for her.
He enjoyed pleasing her. In the past, he’d approached favors with a quid pro quo. If he’d helped somebody, he’d expected something in return.
Rushing off to Terra Nova to pull Bragg’s feet out of the fire was the first time he’d done a good deed without an expectation of reciprocity. Then he’d saved Faith, her stupid cat, and Amity.
Did that mean he’d gotten soft?
Amity removed her coat and gloves. Her hair, tousled by the wind, looked like she’d rolled out of bed after a passionate night. The cold had painted her cheeks and lips pink. He couldn’t wait to muss up her hair with his hands and turn her lips rosy with his kisses.
He set the cake box on the counter, still a bit stunned by his birthday party. Normally he’d prefer to be alone with her, but having their friends join in the celebration and sing to him had touched him.
I guess I am getting soft.
Bragg had been in on the surprise and hadn’t said a word all day! Asshole, he thought with affection.
“The birthday cake was incredibly special,” he said. “Thank you for remembering.”
“I have another surprise,” she said. “I got you a present, too.” She dragged the footlocker out from under the bed and opened it, removing a package wrapped in grass cloth and tied with a strip of horniger leather. “Here.” She handed it to him.
“What is it?” he asked, stunned.
“Open it and find out!”
He untied the bow and peeled away the grass cloth to find a soft, nubby fabric object. He shook it out. His throat thickened.
“It’s a sweater!” she exclaimed.
“I see that. You wove this?” The lump lodged in his throat again. He’d never had a birthday present. No one had given him agiftever. His fingers caressed the pullover sweater.
“Crocheted it.” She paused. “Try it on. I hope it fits. I measured your other shirts to gauge the size.”
He tore his coat off, slipped his arms into the sleeves, and pulled the sweater over his head. He tugged the hem down and looked up. Amity wore a stricken expression.
