“Dove could stay. If we asked really good.”
“Dove has her own life. Her own... complications.”
“But you want her to stay? Really stay? Forever?”
His markings pulse in that slow, beautiful pattern again.
“Yes,” he whispers. “I want her to stay forever.”
My chest feels too full and perfectly warm.
“Then we make her want to stay too!”
He kisses my forehead. “Sleep, small one. Tomorrow is soon enough for complicated things.”
The next morning, Dove offers to help me with my science project. We work together in the hydroponics bay, just the two of us.
It’s nice. Quiet. She explains things like I’m a real person, not just a small person.
Like family would.
“Dove?” I say carefully.
“Yeah?”
“Why do you leave places? Papa said you never stay anywhere longer than a week.”
Her smile gets smaller. Sadder.
“I’m a courier. Moving is the job.”
“But you could not-move. You could stay here. With us.”
“Tavia...”
“Papa’s really happy with you here. His marks glow like they used to with Mama. And you make dinner fun. And you give really good hugs.”
She sets down her scanner, turns to face me properly.
“Sweetie, I can’t just... it’s complicated.”
“That’s what Papa said. But complicated is just a word for problems you haven’t solved yet.”
“You’re eight years old. How are you this wise?”
“Eight and three-quarters. And Pickles says I have exceptional emotional intelligence.”
I take a deep breath. This is important.
“I need you to stay,” I tell her. My markings are probably doing all sorts of emotional things. “Not because of projects or pasta. Because... because Papa needs someone who makes him happy again. And I need...”
My voice cracks. My eyes get wet.
“I need someone who does the mom things. Who teaches me girl things and gives hugs and makes Papa smile. I miss having that. I miss having three instead of two.”
Dove’s eyes get shiny too. She pulls me into a hug, warm and tight and perfect.
“Oh, sweetheart.”
