Chapter Nineteen

"That's all you're taking with you?" Krogan eyed her tote bag containing Pru's hand-me-downs. "The clothes you acquired here are yours."

"No, they're not." She wore her own dress, the flowered yellow one she'd had on the day her stepmother evicted her from the cottage. Once again, she was being kicked out. She would leave the way she'd come—with nothing. Fourteen days ago, she'd landed on Caradonia. Her marriage had lasted two weeks. That had to be a new record for brevity.

"Hope…I…" He raked a hand through his hair.

Clinging to her pride, she stared at him unblinking, praying she wouldn't break down.

He held out his hand for the bag. "I'll take that."

I don't need your help. I don't need anything from you. "I'll carry it."

He sighed. "Let's go."

They vapped to a different spaceport than the one she'd landed in, but she was too heartbroken to wonder about the change in venue. However, one could not miss the enhanced security. Armed guards stood at vaporators and strolled through the terminal. The guards outnumbered the passengers.

He ignored the rack of accelerators, opting to walk her to the boarding area. Although her experience with the turbo-charged airboards had been scary, she would have preferred to ride rather than extend his company. She didn't know how much longer she could hold it together. A dark cloud of grief had settled around her, and the tears could fall at any moment. But she marched beside him with her head held high.

They entered a waiting area, vacant except for the agent manning a kiosk in front of the terminal-spacecraft connector. "That's your ship." He motioned to the huge vessel visible through the massive windows.

Her chest tightened. Don't cry. Don't cry. Not yet. "So it is." She tightened her grip on her bag. Her knuckles were white. She risked a glance at his face, hoping to see regret, conflict…anything, but he remained expressionless, his gliteri dull gray. "Goodbye, Krogan." She moved toward the kiosk.

"Hope—wait!" He sounded frantic.

Her heart leaping into her throat, she spun around. He's changed his mind. He wants me to stay !

"You don't need to board yet. We have a little time." He motioned to the vacant seats.

Was he fucking kidding? How could he think they could just sit and chat? Fury and pain blazed in her gut, but she refused to let him see how much his cavalier attitude hurt. She shrugged a shoulder. "No sense delaying the inevitable. I prefer to board and get settled."

"The separation need only be temporary. When it's safe, you'll come back—"

Do you think I'd risk coming here again? "You mean, when I won't be a hindrance to you ? Return to a man who doesn't care enough to keep me when things get a little rough? Marriage is supposed to be for better or worse."

Maybe that hadn't been part of their vows. She'd had trouble focusing on the officiant's words; she couldn't remember what they'd pledged. Note to self: Next time, pay more attention. Except there wouldn't be a next time. "This is final. I won't be back."

"I didn't mean what I said. You were being stubborn. I was afraid you wouldn't leave. It's for your own good."

For my own good? What a crock. I don't want you, he'd said and meant every word. Perhaps he hadn't intended to say it, but the truth had slipped out. He'd never desired to marry—he'd made that clear at the start. They said you could tell a lot about a person from first impressions. He'd given the impression of a cold, impersonal man who couldn't be bothered to get to the spaceport on time. Every other bride's future husband had been waiting for her as she descended the gangway.

Not hers. There was no room in his life for a wife because he'd married his political career. He'd agreed to the wedding to promote Cosmic Mates, and as soon as she'd become a hindrance instead of an asset, he'd jettisoned her like yesterday's space junk.

All night long, she'd sobbed into her pillow hoping he'd change his mind, that he'd come to her room and rescind his hurtful words, ask her to stay because he loved her and couldn't live without her. But he didn't.

Before packing her meager possessions, she'd contacted Prudence to inform her she would be coming home. Instantly sympathetic, Pru had cussed out Krogan and again offered her a place to stay. She was so grateful to have Prudence in her corner, but soon her friend would marry William, and her attention and focus would shift to him. They would always be friends, but it would be different .

I just want to be special to someone.

She longed for a man who loved her enough to fight for her.

"I hope you find a cure for the nano-virus. I wish you all the best with the Cosmic Mates program." She turned and marched to the kiosk without another glance.

"Hope…"

She ignored him. After scanning her wrist, the agent let her pass onto the gangway.

* * * *

A human female crewmember greeted her upon boarding. "We'll be launching in about twenty minutes. The flight will take two days. Let me show you to a stateroom."

Other than the crew, she didn't see people. "Are there any other passengers?" Were there other Cosmic Mate brides whose husbands wished to protect them for their own good?

"You're the only one leaving. A hundred women disembarked early this morning. We'll be picking up an even larger group for the return trip." She eyed Hope, hesitated a moment, and then asked, "Cosmic Mates didn't work for you, huh? "

"No, it didn't. It's a great program, and I highly recommend it, but it wasn't right for me." She wasn't going to diss Cosmic Mates. She couldn't blame the program for her heartbreak. Both she and Krogan had enrolled under false pretenses.

"This is your cabin." The steward slid open a door.

Two double-decker narrow berths had been squeezed into a space the size of a computer chip. She'd have to turn sideways to scoot between the bunks. This was a larger ship than the one that had brought her out here, but the cabins were much smaller. Thankfully she'd be the only one staying here. She couldn't imagine four people sharing such a tiny space.

"The head is here." The steward motioned to a closet-sized bath. Vaporators were more spacious than this cabin. "Can I get you anything?"

"No, thank you."

"Okay. You'll find the galley portside, aft. There's a lounge on deck two forward, right over the bridge, which is where you should go for the launch in…seventeen minutes. When the captain announces, ‘Prepare to launch,' get yourself into a seat and buckle up. "

"I will, thank you." After the open space and expansive views of the penthouse, the compact space of the stateroom made her feel claustrophobic.

The steward left. Hope watched her retreat for a few seconds then tossed her bag onto the nearest bunk without setting foot into the room. She noted the cabin number then let the door slide shut and went in search of the lounge.

It reminded her of a theater. Rows of seats faced a bug-eyed window, which would offer a view of outer space once they launched. Now it overlooked the flight zone. She buckled into a seat and watched one lone tiny ship fly in, land, and crawl to a terminal connector. Other vessels sat grounded on the tarmac. Not quite a ghost spaceport, but close. Such was the consequence of the pandemic.

She sympathized with the Caradonians' plight. In a short time, she'd fallen in love with the planet and its people, and one particular person.

How could they have broken up just two days after consummating their marriage? He'd been a voracious, tender, affectionate lover, afterward holding her and whispering in her ear. Sweet Hope. Wife of Mine. Words coupled with kisses and caresses misled her into believing he had feelings for her .

The endearments had been like cotton candy—sweet but melting away to nothing. No wonder they refer to pillow talk as sweet nothings.

She leaned her head against the seat back and closed her eyes. She pictured his face, his features contorted by passion, lit up by humor, focused on her with undivided attention when she rambled on about her unexciting day. That didn't seem like nothing. She recalled his rumbling laughter and how his deep voice and smile gave her goosebumps. His laughter and smiles, rare at first, had come more frequently.

I need you, he'd said more than once, and had acted like he did. Had acted like he valued her.

Right up until he didn't. Until he said she'd become a hindrance . That he didn't want her.

Yet, he'd seemed panicked, scared when she'd returned home from the cozi. He'd been frantic. He'd grabbed her and kissed her almost desperately. His expression, his hair, his manner had been wild. He'd been shaking, emotionally wrought. He hadn't faked his fear.

He didn't fake emotion. That wasn't the kind of man he was. However, he did mask it.

Her heart raced. What if he does care, and this is his misguided way of showing it? She'd blamed him for not fighting for her, but what if it was the other way around? Had she given up too easily?

What if I'm not fighting for him?

"Attention, passengers and crew. The doors have been sealed. Please take your seats and buckle up. We will launch shortly."

Through the window, she watched the ship detach from the terminal connector.