Alexa reached home at 6 o’clock in the morning.
She had never seen Papa cry as openly as he did when she walked through the door with Libby bundled in her arms. He seized Alexa in a hug before taking Libby gently. It took only a few tweaks downstairs in his lab to get Libby on her feet again. She was still a little confused but mostly recovered an hour later.
Alexa was relieved but not satisfied until Kia, who had been hovering like a protective mother hen around Libby and hadn’t told her to shut up once since her return, looked out the window over the kitchen sink and said, “Somebody is coming.”
Libby parroted her and giggled.
Mary-Kay looked over Kia’s shoulder and said, “Why, it’s a motorcycle on our front lawn! How intriguing!”
“Alexa—” Kia started to say, but by then, Alexa was already out the door, leaving it open and flapping in the wind behind her.
He was climbing off his spare bike when Alexa rounded the corner of the house to meet him. He turned to look at her with his large, dark, perfect eyes, and Alexa was aching to throw herself straight into his arms, but she stood back from him instead, holding her ground.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” It wasn’t an accusation, or at least she didn’t mean it as one, but Damian cringed and looked away. She didn’t have to say what she meant.
“I didn’t tell anyone. I—I was so ashamed, Alexa. I always had been. I was a freak—Not of nature, not of science. Something in-between. A bot that aged up from a child into an adult.” He laughed bitterly. “Who ever heard of that, right? It always made me wonder what my parents were thinking.”
Alexa shook her head, still not understanding. “But—But when I first met you, I thought you hated bots.”
“Not entirely. How could I? You saw my house. But I hated bots like you—the standard, modern kind, for being what you are and almost fitting in somewhere, anyway—and I was jealous of humans for fitting in without trying, without worries, without secrets. I never hated anything like Winston did—enough to torture and kill—but I hated myself, and I was looking for something to blame.” He bit his lip and looked ashamed. “I was raised better than that, but I rebelled against everything. Then my mom died of cancer and my dad just couldn’t go on without her…” He cut himself off and took a breath that looked almost real, regaining his composure.
He spoke brusquely. “I understand if this changes things between us, but I want you to know I’ll always be grateful to you. Until I met you, I’d forgotten what it was like to care about anything outside my own family, and you’ve made me remember exactly why I don’t want to become like Winston was. You’ve made me a better person.”
He offered her his hand.
Alexa stared at it. “Changes things?” She stepped closer, taking Damian’s face into her hands, feeling his perfectly cold skin. She held his gaze carefully. “I don’t want changes. I want it just. Like. This.” She leaned in and kissed him, hard, until he kissed her back, his hands cupping her waist while her fingers made paths through his untamable hair.
A squeal brought them back to themselves. They turned to see Mary-Kay, Kia, Libby, and Papa peering around the side of the house. He had turned as pale as a ghost and even Libby looked surprised.
Alexa smiled. “Guys, I want you to meet my boyfriend, Damian Pemberley.”
***
Two Years Later
Jemma stooped down to stick her head back in the car. “Aren’t you coming, Alexa?”
Alexa tore her eyes from the windshield, where she had been staring through at the row of shops that were their destination.
Jemma gave her a reassuring smile, a glint in her eye. “No one can stop you, you know.”
Knowing that it was true and seeing her sister’s bright eyes and full, pink face lifted the moment of uncertainty. She was reminded of exactly why this decision was the right one. Because when she walked through the doors of the boutique, there would be no screaming metal detectors and government goons waiting to confiscate her. Because Jemma was healthy and vibrant and free forever from her cancer. And because both of those things were owed to Damian Pemberley.
During his mother’s own fight with cancer, Damian’s father had spent an exorbitant amount of money on experimental treatments, and though they had failed to save her in the end, Damian contacted the researchers again on Jemma’s behalf—and this time there was a breakthrough.
When it became public that the long-awaited remedy for the growth of cancer cells had been funded by the generosity of a bot, the already-unpopular anti-AI laws had been completely destabilized. There had been political debates and public demonstrations of both support and opposition, but it wasn’t long before the results were in: the laws had been overthrown, bots were 100 percent legal, and harming one was equivalent to harming a human being.
Alexa smiled back at Jemma and unbuckled her seatbelt. “And let you look beautiful at your wedding alone? Fat chance.”
As she walked by Jemma’s side toward the boutique, her head full of wedding dresses and plans, she couldn’t help but think how, as much as she loved her human family and her silly bot sisters, she had really wanted one thing all along: Damian Pemberley. A robot. Like her.
