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“You say this a lot. Kay-kay.”
Her face cleared. “Ah, okay.”
“I missed the oh.”
“You did.” A smile bloomed on her face, not only reassuring me but telling me she washappy.
“The guys I’ve been with in the past never listened, and they certainly never did much for me. A bouquet of flowers, maybe, on Valentine’s Day, but the last one forgot our anniversary. He only remembered when he caught me putting together my gift for him. I got a gift card from the convenience store on the corner from him, telling me he’d bolted out and bought it when he realized he had nothing.”
I didn’t understand much of what she was saying but that part didn’t matter. What did matter was that she was telling me that the males she’d been with hadn’t put her needs above their own—not ever. And that listening and doing things based on what she said was the best way to please her.
Who would’ve thought making a mate happy could be this simple?
“Thank you for building me an oven,” she said, wetness no longer leaking from her eyes. She started to wipe it from her face, but I stilled her hands and did it for her, swiping it away with my thumbs while she stared at me with so much adoration, it humbled me.
In that moment, I knew that I would only be half a male if she left. Yes, I would live, but how could I go on without the rest of my heart?
“I’m glad you like it. Are you . . . okay?”
She nodded and sniffed. “I’m better than okay.” Barreling into me, she hugged me.
I held her, silently praying to the crystal gods that I could convince her that she would also be only half of herself withoutme.
“Would you like to help me make cookies?” she asked. “I seem to have lost my helpers.”
“I’d love to.”
Holding hands, we returned to the dining area. She started pouring odd-appearing items into a bowl, and when she handed me a large spoon, I stirred.
“Why don’t you just ask the gods for food like this?” I asked as she poured flour on top of the creamed sookar and tiny-maker—no,shortening.
“And miss out on the fun of making the cookies ourselves?”
“You find joy in the art of creating, not only in eating the result?”
“You made Jessia a chair. Why not just ask the gods to create it for you?”
“I don’t know if they could,” I said, seeing what she meant already.
“If they could, why bother doing it yourself?”
“You’re not only pretty but wise, my mate.” I nodded slowly. “I understand what you mean. I enjoy not only cutting the wood and creating smooth boards but molding them into the chair Jessia adores. The look on her face when I presented it? Nothing can match that.”
“I’d never suggest you stop asking your gods for things you need. I’m thinking about tampons, here, which I’ll need soon, but consider how much fun it could be doing things you enjoy with your own hands. I guess it’s like a hobby back on Earth. Many people do things solely because it’s fun, not because they can’t buy it already made. Or in your case, ask the gods for it.”
Her observation stunned me. “I’ve never considered it this way.”
“Then my work is done.” She looked around at the empty containers surrounding her bowl. “I don’t think we forgot anything. Now we need a flat pan to bake these babies on, though some people love eating the dough raw.”
“Are you still here in my cooking area?” someone said.
I glanced toward the opening into the main part of the building, finding Muzzire standing there, scowling. “We’re making cookies.”
“Inmykitchen?” His glare fell on my mate. “Where will I find space to make the stew for dinner?”
“We’re almost done here,” she said. “Baking’s next, and we’ll do that in the oven Aizor built for me.”
“Never mind.” Muzzire pivoted and stormed from the room.
