“What is it, then?”
“I forgot to cancel my Cosmic Mates account.”
“Forgot or chose not to?”
“Forgot!” She leaped to her feet. “You knew I’d signed up for the service. When exactly did I have a chance to cancel it?” she snapped at him. “After you tranqued me, and I woke up on the spaceship?”
“So, this is my fault?”
Her shoulders slumped. “I’m not interested in anybody else. I swear. I only want you.”
“Yet I find you shopping for a potential husband.”
“I was checking messages! I had one from Cosmic Mates saying I had a match. It’s two weeks old. I clicked on the man’s profile to decline the marriage offer, and then I was going to close my account.”
She had an actual offer? His heart twisted. “Keep it. You’re going to need it,” he fired back.
Her jaw dropped.
The aliens at the other terminals were gawking. They were providing quite a show, but he didn’t care. He’d gotten a couple of sofa design options. Since he didn’t have an MCD, he’d chosento copy them. On his way to the printer, he found Amity ogling an alien man, her Cosmic Mates match.
“Why are you acting this way? Why won’t you listen to me?” she cried. “I’ve never given you any reason to think I wasn’t happy with you.”
Other than she’d made no bones marrying him had been a last resort. She’d been bitter and resentful—although not lately, probably because she realized she still had options.
Could he blame her? Why would she prefer a destitute claustrophobic carbon-copy human who’d basically kidnapped her and forced her to live on a frigid planet so primitive they had to burn animal shit to stay warm?
Except, he did blame her. She’d allowed him to walk around with his head in the clouds, dreaming of a future in which she loved him.
“I can’t deal with this right now.” If he didn’t leave, he’d lose it.
“Marshall, wait!” She grabbed at his sleeve, but he shook her off and hot-footed it from the library.
He had no destination in mind, only wished to avoid the cabin because she would likely go there. Home was where the heart was, and his heart felt like she’d ripped it out of his chest.
I’ve never given you any reason to think I wasn’t happy with you.
Not recently, he conceded, but he felt cold-cocked.She was making the best of a bad situation.
I’m an idiot. A total idiot.He’d assumed too much, too soon. He’d been dreaming of a future, and she’d been planning one without him. He shoved his hands into his coat pockets and walked, replaying the scene over and over.
How could he have read her so wrong? He’d never been married, never been in a long-term relationship or been in love before, but Dark Ops had instilled in him a pretty good fib-o-meter. He could tell when people were blowing smoke up his ass. But his internal lie detector had failed him when he needed it most.
Amity had seemed truthful. Had seemed to care for him. Why had she pretended to care when simple civility would have sufficed?
He recalled the sweater, the birthday party, the myriad of niceties she did for him every day. Weren’t those indications of caring?
What if I overreacted?
What if she’s telling the truth, and the match is a mere oversight?
When he’d met her, she’d just gone on her failed Cosmic Mates meet-up. With a twinge of old guilt, he remembered taking her to dinner to pump her for information. The next day, they’d fled Terra Nova. A week later, they were married.
It could have happened like she said. Exactly when could she have canceled her Cosmic Mates account? She’d had no access to a communication device since leaving Terra Nova until she’d learned about the library terminals. Or had she known about them all along and been checking them?
Could he ever be sure of her feelings? And, if not, could he stand to live with the uncertainty?
He pulled his hands from his pockets and found himself outside the woodshop with no recollection of having gotten here. But it made sense. He’d spent so much time at work lately, his feet had practically worn a path to the door.