The warden nodded in what I assumed was understanding—but she’d still pulled me out of the testing dream at the good part—and sat down at the generic table and chair. “Because soon it won’t be a dream. It can be your reality,” she told me. “You’ve been matched, Miss Nichols, with a ninety-seven percent compatibility, which is remarkable.”
I nodded. “That’s why I’m here. I accept the match. Send me. I’m ready.” Time to get off this planet and reunite with my twin. How dare Mindy leave me here like this? I wanted to cry and scream at her at the same time. Instead, I blinked until I regained control of my emotions and focused on the warden. I stared at her, but I didn’t really see her. My thoughts shifted to Mindy, to the message she’d left me on my cell.
Josh dumped me, the jerk. I SWEAR there are no good men left on Earth. Don’t hate me, but I volunteered to be an Interstellar Bride. I’ve been matched to Trion! Sending this to you
so you don’t worry. Gotta run...or transport. Whatever. ‘Beam me up, Scottie!’ I’m getting married to an alien. Ha! I love you, Sissy. I’ll get a message to you when I can. I’m so excited. I’m outta here.
I’d heard of breakup texts before, but this was worse. So much worse. My baby sister—my identical twin sister, younger than me by three minutes—left me a stupid text to tell me she was leaving the fucking planet to be matched to an alien. And she’d gotten Trion. She hadn’t reached out to me before she left her house. No, she’d told me right before she left the fucking planet. A done deal. I knew nothing about Trion except the males there were big, dominant and definitely kinky.
That worked for me. Because after almost two months of agonizing over the decision, I was going, too. Where Mindy went, I went. We were identical and there was no one closer to me in the world, or universe, than she was. But she wasn’t on Earth any longer. And I was so damn furious at her for ditching me. Still.
If she’d just told me what she wanted to do, I so would have been there. We could have gone together, been tested and sent to the new planet together. Double wedding. Our hot, alien hunks could have shaken hands and dealt with the fact that where one of us went, we both went. Package deal. Two for one. Always together.
Except we weren’t. She’d left me behind.
Being dumped by a boyfriend didn’t hold a candle to being abandoned by my reckless, impulsive, and irresponsible sister. It was my job to look out for her, make sure she stayed out of trouble. I was only a few minutes older, but most days it felt like a few years.
Today it felt like twenty.
Mindy had crushed me with this one, and even now, I tried not to cry at the stinging rejection. It was worse than any boyfriend breakup. Worse than when our parents ditched us at our cousin’s house and never came back. Worse than the rejection letter I’d gotten from my dream college. Worse even than the fact that Mindy had refused to apply to college and decided to be a dental hygienist instead.
I hated teeth. Hated the dentist. I’d wanted to be an architect, but between my less than perfect grade point average and my very average college entrance exam scores, the big universities hadn’t exactly lined up to throw scholarship money my direction. When Mindy had refused to even apply, I’d given in to the inevitable and gone to trade school. Now I did technical drafting for a group of fifty-year-old men with potbellies, whose angry wives and teenage children treated me like I was their personal servant and deliveryman when they showed up at the office.
Mindy leaving me felt like dying. Part of me was dying, in so much pain I could barely think. The other half of me was so freaking angry I wanted to beat the crap out of her the moment I saw her on Trion. Scream at her. Slap her across the face and demand an explanation. Did she hate me so much?
Whoever my new alien husband was, he was going to have to deal with the fact that finding my sister was my number one priority. Once I was sure she was okay and I murdered her, then we could get naked. Then I’d let myself live in dreamland for a hot minute and have a couple of—hopefully—mind-blowing orgasms with a sexy alien hunk who was all mine.
I wasn’t violent. I’d never been violent. Never punched anyone, never been in a fist fight. That was Mindy’s territory. I was the quiet one. The responsible one. Always in control. Always thinking two or three or ten steps ahead. She got us into trouble and I got us out.
But I was terrified I wouldn’t be able to get her out of this one. Terrified I’d lost her forever. Just damn terrified.
I didn’t want to be alone. Truly alone. I’d never been alone. And my sister had always needed me. Always. Now? Now, I was just drifting and useless. I felt lost.
And, of course, she’d left the message while I was in my weekly company meeting, so I couldn’t stop her. I was here being tested eight weeks and two days after Mindy. And I was terrified. I’d finally made the decision, gotten in my car and drove. It was one of the only truly irresponsible things I’d ever done in my life. I hadn’t terminated my lease, sold my stuff, or even cancelled my cell phone plan.
The world could figure it out after I was gone. Out of here. Reunited with my sister.
Besides, if I thought about it too much—or any more than I already had—it would feel too permanent, too scary, and I was afraid I’d lose my nerve.
I would be on Trion soon, now that I’d accepted the match, and could track her down and give her the kick in the ass she deserved. Or painful death by my hands—then I’d hug her to make sure we really were together again. It wasn’t as if our parents ever hugged us, took any responsibility for us. We’d had to take care of each other since forever.
“Great.” The warden sounded pleased as she swiped her finger over her small tablet. As she did so, she continued, “I don’t always have brides so eager to go. Usually convicted felons do not volunteer so readily.”
“Yeah, well, I’m no convict, but I definitely am eager. My sister was matched.”
She glanced up at me briefly. “That’s nice.” Her tone said that factoid was completely irrelevant. As if. “I have a few standard details to go over with you before I can begin preparations for transport.”
“Go for it,” I prompted, eager to get this show on the road.
“State your name for the record.”
“Violet Nichols.”
“Are you legally married?”
Yeah, right. “No.”
“Do you have any biological or legal offspring?”