Page 124 of Biker Orc Baby Daddy
"I don't need publicity. I need privacy."
"You're married to an influencer now."
"I'm married to a woman holding our child and looking ready to commit murder," Gunther corrects.
Colum grins. "Fair. I'll leave you to it. Enjoy the muffins."
He deposits Orry back in his chair. Waves. Leaves. Silence.
"Three million," Gunther says.
"Yep." I shake my head as a small smile graces my lips.
"People are talking about us."
"Yep."
"On the internet."
"Welcome to hell, babe."
He groans. Drops his head to the table.
Orry giggles. Throws a pancake piece. It lands in Gunther's hair.
I laugh. Can't help it.
"This is our life now," Gunther mutters.
"This was always our life. Just with more witnesses."
Two months later.Baby arrives.
Labour's fast. Painful. I scream things at Gunther I'll probably apologize for later.
"You did this to me!" I scream, gripping Gunther's hand hard enough that I'm pretty sure I'm cutting off circulation. Don't care. He deserves it.
"I know. I'm sorry." His voice is strained, earnest, helpless in that way that would be endearing if I wasn't currently being split in half.
"You'resorry?" Another contraction hits and I arch off the bed, every muscle in my body screaming. "Sorry doesn't—oh god?—"
"Very sorry. So sorry. The sorriest I've ever been in my entire life?—"
"Breathing, Sis. Remember your breathing," the midwife says, calm as Sunday morning, like women aren't howling curses at their partners in this room every single day.
"Iambreathing!" I gasp between contractions, sweat plastering hair to my forehead. "You breathe! You, just,breathe for mebecause I can't?—"
The midwife's completely unfazed, checking monitors with the kind of steady competence I'd admire if I had any brain cells left for admiration. "You're doing great, love. Almost there. One more big push and we'll meet your baby."
"I hate you," I tell Gunther, locking eyes with him. Meaning it. Not meaning it. Meaning it again as another wave of pain crashes through me.
"I know." He brushes damp hair off my face, and his hand is shaking.
Then, quieter, when the contraction eases just enough for me to think: "I love you."
"I know that too." His voice cracks. He's still holding my hand like it's the only thing anchoring him to earth.
One more push. The midwife's coaching, Gunther's murmuring something I can't hear over my own heartbeat pounding in my ears, and then?—
