Val and Dean were watching TV in the living room. When they looked up, Hunter saw the instant they figured out what was going on.
Val groaned. Dean, on the other hand, was grinning.
“Pay me,” he said, extending a hand.
Val pulled her wallet from her pocket and fished out a twenty. “Just keep it down up there, okay?” she said as she gave the bill to Dean. “Remember you have housemates and that a closed door is everyone’s friend.”
They weren’t particularly quiet, but they did close the door.
He reached for Airin in the morning when he was still half-asleep, but she was already up and dressing.
“Where are you going?” he asked, watching as she buttoned her short-sleeved blouse. His fingers itched to undo every one.
“I promised Val I’d be back in the lab this morning. We’re running tests on the new water extraction process.”
He sat up in bed, letting the covers slide down to his waist.
“I bet Val won’t mind if you’re an hour late.”
Her eyes traveled down his bare torso and back up again, and he winked at her.
She shook her head. “I can’t believe you’re using your masculine wiles to tempt me to neglect work.”
“I can’t believe you’re resisting me.”
She took theatrically slow steps toward the doorway. “I didn’t say it was easy,” she said, wiping imaginary sweat from her brow. “But didn’t we agree work would always come first?”
“Maybe we should renegotiate that agreement.”
She reached the door and blew him a kiss. “You’re only saying that because you’re still on vacation. I bet you’ll be singing a different tune when it’s your turn to go back to the lab.”
“You might lose that bet. And since I don’t have anything to do today but think about you, I should warn you I’m going to be full of energy when you get home.”
She grinned at him. “That doesn’t sound like a warning. It sounds like a promise.” She blew him another kiss. “See you tonight.”
After she was gone, he realized he was still smiling.
Life seemed pretty damn good right now, except for two things.
The first was that Dira had answered his email yesterday. I’ll call you tomorrow at noon and we’ll discuss it, she’d written.
There’s nothing to discuss, he’d wanted to write back—but there was at least one good reason to keep things amicable with Dira.
She was Airin’s mother.
So he’d talk to her in a few hours and explain that he wasn’t comfortable with their deal anymore. He should never have agreed to it in the first place. He’d tell her that Airin was doing great and that enough time had gone by for them to restart their mother-daughter relationship on a healthier footing.
What he wouldn’t tell her was that he and Airin were involved. That was a piece of information that could wait until Airin herself was ready to convey it.
The second fly in the ointment was the question of what—and when—to tell Airin about all this. He knew he ought to make a clean breast of things, explain what he’d done, and beg her forgiveness. That course of action seemed as simple and straightforward as doing the right thing always did.
But whenever he imagined that conversation, it always ended with Airin in tears or Airin furious at him . . . or Airin deciding she didn’t want to be with him anymore.
And whenever he pictured that happening, he knew he wasn’t ready to face the possibility of losing her.
So he’d wait. He’d tell her eventually, of course. When things between them were on a firmer footing. They’d only been together for forty-eight hours, after all. He could give it a few more days.
Or weeks.
The call with Dira didn’t go quite the way he’d expected.
She didn’t try to talk him out of his decision. Instead she said, “It’s been six weeks since we spoke in the hospital. Six weeks was all we agreed to then. As far as I’m concerned, you’ve honored your side of the bargain, and I’m prepared to honor mine.” She paused. “Unless, of course, you no longer want a place on the DelAres crew.”
The image of a landing craft on a rocky red plain filled his mind’s eye. It was the DelAres I, and inside it was the first crew—the first human beings—to land on Mars.
A ladder extended from the craft to the planet, and an astronaut emerged from the air lock. Rung by rung he descended toward the surface. Then he stepped onto the regolith, making a footprint on the red soil.
His footprint.
The moment he’d emailed Dira from California, he’d known he was giving up that opportunity. To have it offered again was a shock.
He was standing at the living room window, looking out at the guava trees in the backyard. Could he accept a place on the DelAres crew now? What would he tell Airin if he did? How could he explain all this to her?
He’d have to tell her the whole story. Which, of course, he’d already decided to do . . . eventually. But what would Airin think about him joining her mother’s company? Would she see that as a betrayal? What would it do to their relationship?
“You can’t tell Airin,” he heard himself say.
Silence on the other end of the phone. Then: “What?”
“I want to be the one to tell her, and not right away. I’ll tell her in a few weeks, after we negotiate my transition from NASA to DelAres.”
He paused, and a new possibility took root in his mind. The seed had been planted on the plane from California to Hawaii, when he and Airin had seen the first findings to come out of the biosphere mission. Janelle had emailed the report, reminding him of their conversation about couples in space, and he and Airin had read it together as they flew over the Pacific, holding hands under a thin airline blanket.
What if there was a way to have everything? His dream and Airin’s dream?
“Have you read the first dispatch from the biosphere project?”
“What?” Dira sounded bewildered by the change of subject. “What are you talking about? What does that have to do with Airin? You haven’t told me why you—”
“Just bear with me for a minute. Have you read it?”
Dira huffed out a sigh. “I haven’t had time. I’m planning to review all the findings once the simulation is over. What is this about, Hunter?”
“Results are preliminary at this stage, but indications so far are that the two couples have done better than the four single astronauts. A lot better.”
“And?”
“You said NASA has resisted the idea of sending couples into space. That’s been true, so far. But now they’re talking about making a change to that model, especially for long-haul missions. And I was wondering about the DelAres position on sending couples to Mars.”
There was a long silence. Then: “We’ve thought about it, of course. Some on the team are in favor of the idea. It might be the best way to overcome some of the psychological difficulties of a three-year mission in space—or an even longer one. But why are you bringing this up, Hunter? Based on your profile, I would have thought you’d be against couples in space.”
“I was against it. I always hated the idea. What if a situation comes up where you have to make an impossible choice? The safety of your partner versus the safety of another crew member, or the success of the mission?”
“Well, what if it does? What would you do?”
“I don’t know. But it’s something people can talk about and think about and plan for like any other aspect of space travel. Isn’t that one of the things they’re studying in the biosphere? Couple dynamics?”
“But what do you think? You’re a pilot and a commander. A team leader. What’s your instinct?”
Outside, a misty rain had begun to fall. The wind picked up, and the scent of Hawaii blew into the house.
He remembered what Airin had said the day she came into his room and told him she wanted to go into space.
The surface of Mars is as different from Hawaii as it’s p
ossible to be. Cold, dry, barren. No liquid water. No plants. No animals. No soft air against your cheek. No scent of flowers, no sound of raindrops.
He took a deep breath. “I think it’s possible that the benefits could outweigh the drawbacks.”
“How so? What do you see as the benefits?”
“I think Earth-out-of-view syndrome would be easier to handle if you brought a piece of home with you. Someone you love the way you love Earth.”
Before Airin, he would never have used the word love in a conversation about space travel . . . or anything else, most likely. But then, even NASA used the word occasionally.
“One of the psychologists on the biosphere project has talked about this,” he went on. “He’s positing that a team on a long-haul mission might actually have a better chance of survival if they’re fighting for—and with—people they love.” He thought about the difference between a parabolic flight with Airin and a parabolic flight without Airin. “Plus, it would be more fun.”
“Fun?” Dira repeated, as though it were a foreign word she mistrusted instinctively.
“Yeah. Believe me, it matters. Especially on a long mission.”
There was another factor, one he didn’t feel comfortable putting into words yet. When he imagined going into space with Airin—more specifically, to Mars—it made him think about immigrant families sailing across the Atlantic or pioneer families putting all their worldly possessions in a covered wagon before heading off into the unknown.
Being a lone-wolf explorer was very different. That was about glory and adventure, and while a part of him would always be attracted to those things, the motivation he was feeling now was bigger. Deeper.
Traveling into space with Airin would be about building something—building a future—with someone he cared about. Building something for future generations.
It was a terrifying idea in some ways. The best thing about being a lone wolf was the most obvious one: you didn’t have as much to lose.
But he hadn’t gotten where he was by letting fear rule his life.
“Well, Hunter, this is an interesting topic, and one that will no doubt be discussed a great deal in the coming years. Once you’re part of the DelAres team, we’ll seek your input.” She paused. “By the way, you haven’t yet formally accepted my offer. Do I take it that you wish to?”
“Yeah,” he said. “As long as I can be the one who tells Airin about it—in a few weeks. After we figure out the transition with NASA.”
That would give him time to tell Airin the whole story and to get her on board with the bigger dream.
The two of them going to Mars together. As a couple.
After a moment Dira spoke. “When we first talked in the hospital, I said I didn’t want you to tell me anything about Airin’s life that you or she would consider truly private.”
“Yeah, I remember. You said I didn’t need to steal her diary for you.”
“Yes. Well. In that spirit, please understand that you may choose to answer this question or not, as you see fit. Are you dating my daughter?”
It was a question he should have been ready for. But he wasn’t.
Dira wasn’t an idiot. He’d told her he wanted to be the one to tell Airin about their deal, and then he’d talked about sending couples to Mars.
Shit.
Still, Dira would have found out eventually. Maybe it was better this way. Now she’d have time to come to terms with the idea before he and Airin told her formally. And he and Airin would have time, too. Time to figure out how to convince Dira that her daughter would be one of the finest astronauts to ever go into space.
But in the meantime, he wasn’t going to talk about his relationship with Airin. It had only just begun, after all. They were still figuring things out themselves.
“Like you said, that’s a private matter.”
Another silence.
“Yes. Yes, of course. Well, Hunter, I suppose this will be the last time we talk—in this context, at any rate. Once you receive your contract and sign it, our conversations will be professional.” She paused. “So I guess it’s goodbye, then. Until we meet again.”
She was letting him off the hook, at least for now.
“Goodbye, Dira.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Airin was smiling as she walked up the driveway to her house.
She’d been doing that a lot lately. Smiling.
On this particular occasion, she was remembering the dinner Hunter had taken her to a few nights before.
“For our one-week anniversary,” he’d said, handing her a plumeria lei.
Their one-week anniversary.
This might be the first relationship she’d ever been in, but she’d watched enough TV to know that guys didn’t usually celebrate one-week anniversaries. Not guys like Hunter, anyway.
She was a lucky woman.
She was also the first one home today, which was by design. She was going to cook dinner as a way to thank Dean and Val for everything they’d done for her—and to apologize for all the sex that had been happening on the second floor. She and Hunter had been trying to keep things reasonably quiet, but they weren’t always successful.
Sex, it turned out, was as addictive as weightlessness. As soon as it was over, she wanted to do it again.
This had led, naturally, to thoughts of combining the two and many discussions with Hunter about the possibilities inherent in weightless sex.
Now there was an engineering problem you could really sink your teeth into.
They’d also started talking about the idea of couples in space. Their conversations had been mostly theoretical, and they’d skirted around the subtext. Would they still be together in ten or fifteen years? Would she be an astronaut? Would NASA select both of them for a Mars mission?
There were so many uncertainties, so many unknowns. But the fact that they were talking about this at all—and that Hunter was the one bringing it up—seemed like a really hopeful sign.
Everything these days seemed like a hopeful sign.
There was a UPS package on the front steps, the size of a thin book or a thick document. She grabbed it on her way in, noticing that it was addressed to her. She set her grocery bag on the kitchen counter and went into the living room, curling up on the couch in Val’s usual spot with the package in her lap.
It was from her mother.
Well, the DelAres company, anyway. Which meant her mother.
It had been a few days since they’d last texted each other. She’d gotten used to not talking to her mother every day and to getting brief texts instead of long interrogations about her health and well-being. She was starting to feel more like an adult daughter and less like a permanently infantilized child, even though breaking away from Dira’s influence had felt, in the beginning, as hard as breaking away from Earth’s gravity.
But it was happening.
When she tore the package open, she saw that it was a document of some kind—legal by the look of it. She leaned back, set her feet on the edge of the coffee table, and began to read.
She’d finished reading by the time Hunter got home.
He called out to her as he came through the front door. “I forgot to stop for wine, but I think we have a bottle left over from Dean’s birthday party. If not, I can—”
He caught sight of her face and stopped dead.
“Jesus, Airin, what the hell happened? Are you okay?”
He was standing in the kitchen, looking at her over the counter. When she put the document on the coffee table with shaking hands, he came into the living room.
“What is this?” he asked, picking it up and sitting on the chair across from her.
“It’s a contract,” she said. “An employment contract.”
She didn’t recognize her own voice. It sounded empty, dead.
Exactly the way she felt.
It only took him a few seconds to see what it was. The guilt on his face told the whole story, but if she’d had any doubts, his ne
xt words would have cleared them up.
“Why did you open my mail?”
She hadn’t known anything could hurt so much.
“It was addressed to me.”
“Addressed to you? Why would—shit, of course.” He closed his eyes briefly. “She knows we’re involved, and this is her way of splitting us up. A brutally efficient method, too. That’s Dira all over.”
He called her mother by her first name.
He opened his eyes again and leaned forward, his expression intense.
“You have to let me explain. It’s not—”
“You don’t have to explain,” she said. “My mother was kind enough to include a letter at the end of the contract, laying out exactly what you’d done for her and thanking you for the service.” She paused. “You’ve been spying on me for her. In exchange for a spot on the DelAres crew.”
His hands gripped his knees so hard his knuckles turned white. “It’s not like that.”
“It’s exactly like that.” She rose to her feet, every muscle in her body trembling. “I knew it in the hospital, right after the accident. I knew someday you’d resent me for screwing up your career. Is that what this was? Some kind of payback? Or did you just recognize an opportunity to get what you wanted most in the world?”
“Airin—”
Her head was pounding, and she pressed her palms to her temples. “Just tell me this, Hunter. Was sleeping with me part of the plan? Or was that just a bonus?”
His head jerked back as though she’d punched him.
“Never mind,” she said. “I don’t think I can stand to hear the answer.”
“Airin—”
“Stop. Just stop.”
How could she have been so blind? She’d been congratulating herself on her independence from her mother. She’d been feeling proud of herself—and of Dira—for letting the separation finally happen.
And all along, it had been a lie. Her mother hadn’t let go at all. She’d been here the whole time.
Because of Hunter.
She was angry with her mother. Furious. But the thing that really hurt, the thing that was like a knife between her ribs, was that it was Hunter who’d made this moment possible.
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