“If you make it back by then.”
“Alex is determined that we make it to the Aspen house at least three days before Christmas and you know how he is when he sets his mind to something.”
“He’ll be there four days before Christmas,” Qylar said with a smirk.
“Exactly.”
Cryss opened his arms and dragged Qylar into them, giving him a big bear hug. “We really will miss you, Uncle Q.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Qylar said.
Cryss backed away, and Qylar brushed at a bit of dampness under his eye.
“You better take good care of my kids,” Qylar said. “And spoil them a little and tell them it’s from me. I can’t have them thinking I’m falling down on the job even if I’m far away.”
“I’ll make sure to spoil them in your name.”
“I’ll know if you don’t. Zaadi tells me everything, so you better follow through,” Qylar said, walking to the teleport pad.
Cryss stepped over to the control console and smiled at Qylar. “See you in a few months.”
Qylar forced another smile just before Cryss returned him to the empty townhouse. It was way too quiet without Bluey on the television, the children giggling, and Alex and Cryss playfully arguing over who was cooking what for dinner in the kitchen. He looked around the overly tidy living area and hated it. After walking over to the kids’ toybox, he took a few things out and tossed them on the floor so it looked like the kids were in the middle of playing and would be right back any second.
His job done, he went through the secret door and ambled down the stairs and dropped onto his bed.
Maybe he could just sleep until Christmas.
That sounded like a plan.
CHAPTER 10
Qylar pulled all of the parts of Cryss’s frozen Thanksgiving dinner out of the freezer and slid them into the nearly empty refrigerator to thaw ahead of the holiday and closed the door. He scratched at his overgrown beard and lazily stumbled back into the living room, collapsing onto the sectional. After refilling his tumbler with more vodka, he drained it, his fifth since waking up at three that afternoon still a bit drunk from the day before.
It had been a month since he’d last heard from Kenji. He’d followed Alex’s ‘no pressure, leave him alone strategy,’ but that hadn’t worked, so he’d used more phones to try communicating with Kenji. That hadn’t worked, either. He didn’t have an address, so he couldn’t show up and embarrass himself at the door. So, drinking himself into oblivion was the only other obvious choice. If he wasn’t doing something—or dulling his senses—his brain was going to spin out of control, and he’d end up losing his mind, worrying about Kenji and his babies.
Ifthere were babies.
Given that he’d be showing by then—reallyshowing if both eggs had taken—it seemed probable that Kenji wasn’t pregnant. He couldn’t imagine the guy was living his life, big belly and all, all around San Francisco without coming to him for help.
At least he hadn’t had to take Kenji to Nefyria to have the eggs removed. He wasn’t sure if he’d have been able to survive that.
A few more vodkas later and he was feeling no pain, exactly as planned. He turned on a football game, though he’d never watched them before, but sat glued to the screen. It was an American Thanksgiving tradition, so he might as well figure out the game at some point.
A knock sounded at the door.
Qylar turned his head in that direction. Had he ordered takeout and forgot again? Dragging himself off the sectional, he stumbled to the door and whipped it open.
Kenji stood in the center of it, wrapped in a big, puffy coat, staring up at him.
Qylar leaned on the doorframe, trying to keep himself mostly upright. He shoved a hand through his unkempt hair and tried to look mostly sober.
“You look like hell,” Kenji said.
“I feelgreat,though,” Qylar whispered.
“You’re drunk.Great,”Kenji muttered.
“That’s whatIsaid,” Qylar slurred.“Greaaat.”
