Epilogue

I eyed the lumpy oatmeal that Zoe was feeding to her daughter, Chloe, and my stomach lurched at the food, which looked suspiciously like...urp. I made a dash for the open grass off the porch where we’d been eating breakfast. Yep, I’d lost my breakfast again.
Instead of looking contrite or worried, Zoe laughed. “Your little boy doesn’t like the smell of oatmeal.”
“Mama vomit,” my son, Jonah, announced.
“Vomit,” Chloe echoed, banging her spoon on the table like a good three-year-old.
I weakly walked back up the porch steps, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. My foot was lifting to make the second step when strong hands grabbed me from behind, lifting me to carry me to my chair. Or rather, to a chair that now had Ethan as its base, and me ensconced in his lap.
“Is this normal?” he barked at Zoe. “I’m calling a doctor.”
Zoe smiled, a brighter smile now that she was living on Ethan’s farm with us, safely away from Chloe’s cruel, abusive father. “It’s normal. Some say lots of nausea is a good thing. Means the pregnancy is strong.”
“She didn’t throw up this much with Jonah,” he said, still looking worried.
“I’m fine, Ethan,” I said, leaning back against his chest and cupping his cheek with my palm. The doctors who’d come out last week had done some genetic testing, which was how we knew we were going to have another son.
Zoe and I were already jokingly planning a wedding between Chloe and my Jonah. Now she needed to hurry up her flirtation with Ethan’s farm manager so she could have a second child. We joked about planning weddings, but a deep-seated tiny kernel of hope existed within.
There were rumors of an experimental medicine in India that was intended to induce puberty in girls. If it worked, the Breeding system would die out. Chloe wouldn’t be given to a man on a public stage and would be free to marry Jonah or another man of her choosing.
I hoped for her sake the rumors were true. Not that the Breeder system was all bad. For me, it had been the best thing. It had brought me to Ethan, the love of my life.
“For someone who just lost her breakfast all over the lawn, you’re pretty happy,” Ethan said, cuddling me closer.
“I am happy. How could I not be? I have you.”

Keep reading for an excerpt from THE ROSWELL AFFAIR by Anne Bordeaux.