She wondered if it was guilt that made her torment him so. But she didn’t think it was. It felt more like anger—anger at his weakness, anger that he loved her like he did when she’d clearly done nothing to deserve it, anger that she would have to be the one to look him in the eye after the baby was born—a baby that would, as long as life was being so ironic, look just like Theo Jaxon—and explain the truth to him.

“Well.” He paused, clearing his throat. “I’m leaving in the morning. I just came to tell you.”

She put her needles down to look at him. He was squinting at her in the dim light, giving his face a scrunched, boyish appearance. “What do you mean, ‘leaving’?”

“Jimmy wants me to secure the station. With Arlo gone, we don’t know what’s going on down there.”

“Flyers, Galen. Why is he sending you?”

“You think I can’t handle it?”

“I didn’t say that, Gale.” She heard herself sigh. “I’m just wondering why you, is all. You’ve never been down there before.”

“Someone has to go. Maybe he thinks I’m the best man for the job.”

She did her best to look agreeable. “Be careful, okay? All eyes.”

“You say that like you actually mean it.”

Mausami didn’t know how to answer that. She felt suddenly tired.

“Of course I mean it, Gale.”

“Because if you don’t, you should probably just say so.”

Tell him, she thought. Why didn’t she just tell him?

“Go on, it’s all right.” She took up her knitting again. “I’ll be here when you get back. Go to the station.”

“You really think I’m so stupid?”

Galen was standing with his hands at his sides, glaring at her. One hand, his right, closest to his blade, gave a small, involuntary-seeming twitch.

“I didn’t … say that.”

“Well, I’m not.”

A silent moment passed. His hand had moved to his belt, perched beside the handle of his knife.

“Galen?” she asked gently. “What are you doing?”

The question appeared to jar him. “What makes you say that?”

“The way you’re staring at me. What you’re doing with your hand.”

He dropped his gaze to look. A little hmm sound rose in the back of his throat. “I don’t know,” he said, frowning. “I guess you’ve got me there.”

“Won’t they be looking for you on the catwalk? Aren’t you supposed to be there?”

There was, she thought, something strangely inward about his expression, as if he wasn’t quite seeing her. “I guess I better go,” he said.

But still he made no effort to leave, nor to move his hand away.

“So I’ll see you in a few days,” Mausami said.

“What do you mean?”