flicked to the corvette, and she nodded slowly. “I see.”
“Hoi, not because of you, okay? I was thinking about our fight, and . . . look, Alara . . . I’m sorry.”
“No, I’m sorry.” Alara turned back to him with a faint smile. “You’re right. I can’t expect you to give up your dreams for me.”
Ethan blinked. “Well . . . apology accepted, I guess.”
“I’m just scared. Being a freelancer is dangerous work, especially here in Dark Space, and it’s only getting worse now with all the criminals pardoned, and with the Gors taking refuge here, too . . . I don’t want anything to happen to you, Ethan, and I don’t want us to get into debt again just to keep our ship running.”
“This time it will be different, Kiddie.”
“What if it isn’t?” Alara’s wide violet eyes searched his, and he felt an echo of her concerns ripple through him as he remembered how they’d struggled to make a go of it with their last ship, the Atton.
That glimmer of self-doubt blossomed just enough that he was willing to compromise. “I’ll tell you what. Give me six months. If we haven’t managed to make enough money to keep our ship running and save at least 10% of profits for the future, then I’ll sell the ship and take your father up on his offer.”
Alara’s eyes widened. “You’d do that?”
Ethan nodded. “I will.”
“Six months isn’t much time . . .”
“It’s enough. You can start counting after the honeymoon.”
“Either you’re very in love with me, or you’re just that confident in yourself.”
Ethan grinned. “Why can’t I be both?”
“Ha ha. All right, it’s a deal, Ethan.”
“Good. I love you,” he said, dropping a quick kiss on her lips before she could push him away again.
“I love you, too. . . .” Alara said as they broke apart. She turned away to stare up at their ship, and a faraway look crept into her eyes. “The Freedom . . .” she said, as if trying out the name to see how it sounded.
“What do you think?”
“Mmmm . . .”
“I could always name her after you,” he suggested.
Alara smiled and shook her head. “What about . . . the Trinity.”
Ethan frowned and shook his head. “Why Trinity ?”
Alara turned back to him with a hesitant smile. “Well, we’re not going to be just the two of us forever, Ethan.”
“I know that , but it’s not like we’ve got a baby already.”
Alara bit her lower lip and her eyes filled with tears. “Are you sure about that?”
He took an involuntary step back and shook his head. “How . . . I mean . . . never mind. When did you find out?”
“The day before yesterday. I wanted to tell you, but after you shot down my father’s solution without even a second thought—”
“Hold on—Kurlin knows?”
Alara gave a tremulous smile. “My mother does, too.”
“I can’t believe this. You told your parents before me!”
“I had to talk to someone!”
Ethan sighed and squeezed the bridge of his nose until it felt like it was about to break. “You should have come to me first. What made you think you couldn’t talk to me about it?”
Alara gestured to their ship. “That did. You just spent a whole month giving her a fresh coat of paint. It’s all you could talk about—how we’re going to have such a great time piloting her together. I didn’t know how to tell you that your dreams were about to take a sudden turn in a different direction. You can’t raise a child on a starship, Ethan.”
“Why not?” he shook his head. “What’s wrong with that?”
“Do you remember how many missions we took that went sour before we could even get paid? I remember at least a half a dozen where we ended up working for some offshoot of Brondi’s organization without even knowing it. We carried more contraband than legitimate cargo, and we waltzed through at least a dozen pirate bases to make our deliveries.”
Ethan frowned. “It’s not our fault if they don’t tell us what’s really in the cargo