Page 117 of Biker Orc Baby Daddy
The music starts. Some blend of human processional and orcish drum cadence that Gunther's mother insisted on. It's. Actually kind of beautiful.
"Here we go," Dad says. We step into the plaza.
Colum went full theatrical.Of course he did.
The fountain's been decorated with ribbons in silver and green. Chairs arranged in neat rows. A canopy strung with lights even though it's two in the afternoon.
And people.So many people.
Fishborn staff. Sparkle Beauty regulars. Half of Poplar Springs, apparently. The retired drag queen's in the front row wearing a fascinator that could double as a small tree.
Gunther's family fills the left side. Orcs in formal wear. Gunther's mother dabbing her eyes with a handkerchief embroidered with their family crest.
And there. Centre. Under the canopy. Gunther. No glasses today. Contacts. Hair slicked back. Suit tailored to fit his frame. Tusks polished. He looks.Damn.His eyes find mine. Go wide. Soft. I try not to cry. Fail immediately.
Dad squeezes my arm. "Steady."
"Shut up. I'm pregnant and emotional."
"Fair."
We walk. The crowd stands. Orry's in the front row with Gunther's mother, waving a stuffed bear and shouting "Mama!" loud enough to make people laugh.
We reach the canopy. Dad kisses my cheek. Hands me over.
Gunther takes my hand. His palm's sweaty.
"Hi," he whispers.
"Hi."
"You're. You look. I can't."
"Breathe, Ridge."
He does. Smiles. That dorky, lopsided smile I've come to crave.
Colum clears his throat. He's wearing a purple suit. Naturally.
"Dearly beloved and slightly confused," he begins. "We're gathered to witness these two absolute disasters promise not to screw this up."
Laughter ripples through the crowd.
"Cecie and Gunther met under. Let's call them unconventional circumstances."
More laughter. Gunther's ears go red.
"But what started as one impulsive night became something neither of them expected. A son. A partnership. A family."
Colum gestures to Orry, who's now trying to eat the bear's ear.
"Today, they're making it official. Blending human vows with orcish bonding rites. Because why do anything halfway?"
"Colum," I mutter.
"Right. Vows. Gunther, you're up."
Gunther reaches into his pocket. Pulls out a folded paper. His hands shake.
