Adam stared at the table for what felt like the hundredth time since his return home—at the slightly crooked birthday cake on it.
He checked his phone again. No missed calls from Harry, no texts explaining why he wasn’t home or where he’d gone. Harry had left his mobile phone in the kitchen.
Adam told himself to stop being such a lovesick worrywart and get a grip. Harry had probably just gone out and lost track of the time. He was worrying over nothing. It had been just a few hours.
Ten hours later, Adam had run out of possible reasons for Harry’s absence. He hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep last night after realizing that all of Harry’s things were still home, including Harry’s passport.
It was almost funny. It was almost funny that he’d learned Harry’s last name and nationality from his passport after months of knowing Harry.
Harry Calluvianen. Apparently Harry was a Finn.
It was almost funny. It was almost funny how fast a person could go from happiness to despair and sickening worry.
When he involved the police, there was no longer anything remotely funny about the situation.
“It must be a mistake,” Adam said, barely moving his lips.
“There’s no mistake, Mr. Crawford,” the officer said. “The passport is fake. A very impressive fake, but a fake nonetheless.”
Adam turned around and left, already pulling his phone out to call Scott, a friend of his who worked for the MI6. It must be a mistake. Harry wasn’t—he wasn’t a fucking criminal or something. He’d never believe it.
Six days later, Scott called back and said, “There are no matches in any country. If I didn’t know better, I’d say the bloke never existed, Adam.”
Adam stared blankly at the hideous painting Harry had bought a month ago. Harry had been so pleased with himself for getting “such a bargain.”
Distantly, he heard himself thank Scott before hanging up.
Then he got dressed and headed out for work.
“Is everything all right, dear?” Mrs. Wayne, his neighbor, asked him as they shared a lift.
“Yes,” Adam said.
“I haven’t seen your friend in a week,” she said. “The sweet boy promised to look after my flowers while I’m away. Could you remind him about that?”
Adam unclenched his jaw. “He’s gone,” he said. “He lied to you. All he did was lie.”
He barely registered her stunned face as he strode out of the lift without even saying goodbye. She was probably offended by his rudeness, but Adam couldn’t bring himself to care.
He didn’t care.
CHAPTER 10
Planet Calluvia
“His Highness Prince Seyn’ngh’veighli of the Third Grand Clan wishes to see you, Your Highness,” Borg’gorn announced.
Harry looked up from the 3D model of Earth. He was supposed to be updating the database with the new information he had learned about humans, but instead he’d ended up staring at the 3D model of the planet for something like half an hour. Or rather, at a small island on it.
“Let him in,” Harry said belatedly, straightening up and looking at the door. He couldn’t wait to see Seyn. They were the same age and had grown up together. Harry had always considered him his closest friend. Seyn was also going to be family in less than two years when he turned twenty-five and his childhood bond to Harry’s brother became a marriage bond. When Harry had returned from Earth, he had been so disappointed to learn that Seyn was off-planet and wouldn’t be back for a while. He had wanted to talk to someone he could fully trust and Seyn was the only person he trusted not to judge him.
He smiled when the door slid open and Seyn strode in, as graceful as ever.
Seyn’s green eyes lit up when he saw Harry.
“Harht,” Seyn said, reaching out with his mind to Harry’s. Suppressing the urge to hug his friend, Harry embraced him back telepathically. Seyn’s mind had always felt as silver as Seyn’s hair, with a familiar edge of excitement and impatience. Seyn was always in motion, a social butterfly who liked meeting new people and making lots of friends. If he loved, he loved fiercely. If he hated, he hated just as fiercely. Being rather mild-tempered, Harry had always thought it must be exhausting to be Seyn, but lately... he understood him better. Much better.
“I was starting to think you’d been kidnapped by the barbarians on Sol III,” Seyn said, grinning.
Harry frowned and gave him a telepathic smack. “Humans are not barbarians. Don’t be a snob. And I’ve been back for ages already. Not my fault you were off-planet.”
Seyn scrunched up his nose and smiled sheepishly. “Ugh, I was being a snob. Good thing I have you to tell me when I act snobbish and top-lofty.”
“Ksar must have rubbed off on you,” Harry said with a tiny smirk.
Now it was Seyn’s turn to give him a telepathic smack. “Don’t even joke about it,” he said with a scowl, flopping down on the couch next to Harry. “You have permission to kill me the day I start acting like Ksar.”