Nick leaned close and whispered, “Minks and rats can’t procreate, either.”

My mouth opened in a silent, Oh, and I thought that perhaps Nick, with his odd way of seeing the world, might understand my mother better than I did.

“Nick, dear,” my mom said as she gave the sauce a quick, clockwise turn. “You don’t have a cellular disease in your family, do you?”

Oh, no, I thought in panic as Nick answered evenly, “No, Mrs. Morgan.”

“Call me Alice,” she said. “I like you. Marry Rachel and have lots of kids.”

“Mom!” I exclaimed. Nick grinned, enjoying it.

“But not right away,” she continued. “Enjoy your freedom together for a while. You don’t want children until you’re ready. You are practicing safe sex, yes?”

“Mother!” I shouted. “Shut up!” God, help me get through this night.

She turned, one hand on her hip, the other holding the dripping spoon. “Rachel, if you didn’t want me to bring it up, you should have spelled your hickey.”

I stared at her, my mouth agape. Mortified, I rose and pulled her into the hall. “Excuse us,” I managed, seeing Nick grinning.

“Mom!” I whispered in the safety of the hall. “You ought to be on medication, you know that?”

Her head drooped. “He seems like a nice man. I don’t want you to drive him away like you do all your other boyfriends. I loved your father so. I just want you to be that happy.”

Immediately my anger fizzled to nothing, seeing her standing alone and upset. My shoulders shifted in a sigh. I should come over more often, I thought. “Mom,” I said. “He’s human.”

“Oh,” she said softly. “Guess there isn’t much safer sex than that, is there?”

I felt bad as the weight of that simple statement fell on her, and I wondered if that might change her opinion of Nick. There could never be any children between Nick and me. The chromosomes didn’t line up right. Finding that out for sure had been the end of a long-running controversy among Inderlanders, proving that witches, unlike vamps and Weres, were a separate species from humans, as much as pixies or trolls. Vamps and Weres, whether bitten or born to their status, were only modified humans. Though witches mimicked humanity almost perfectly, we were as different as bananas from fruit flies at a cellular level. With Nick, I would be barren.

I had told Nick the first time our cuddling turned to something more intent, afraid he would notice if something didn’t look quite right. I had been almost sick with the thought he would react in disgust about the different species thing. Then I almost cried when his only wide-eyed question had been, “It all looks and works the same, doesn’t it?”

At the time, I honestly hadn’t known. We had answered that question together.