Page 83 of Biker Orc Baby Daddy

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"Cecie. I'm not going anywhere. Test or no test. I'm here."

Her eyes shimmer. She nods. "Okay."

We spendthe rest of the afternoon in the back room. Orry sleeps. Wakes. Fusses. Sleeps again. I check his temp every hour. 100.8. Then 100.2. Then 99.5.

"It's breaking," I tell Cecie.

She exhales. Relief floods her face. "Thank God."

"He's tough."

"He gets that from me."

"Stubborn too, I bet."

"Definitely from me."

I grin. Orry stirs. Blinks up at me. His eyes are clearer now. He reaches for my face. Pats my cheek.

"Dada."

I freeze. Cecie freezes.

"Did he just?—"

"Yeah." My voice is rough. "He did."

"That's. That's new."

"Good new or bad new?"

She bites her lip. "Good. I think. Good."

Orry says it again. Delighted with himself. "Dada."

I kiss his forehead. He giggles.God, I love this kid.

By evening,Orry's fever's gone. He's clingy. Cranky. But himself again. Cecie closes the shop early. We migrate to her apartment upstairs.

It's small. Cozy. Lived-in. There's a playpen in the corner. A laundry basket overflowing with tiny clothes. A shelf crammed with board books and teething toys.

"Sorry about the mess," Cecie says.

"It's perfect."

She rolls her eyes. "You don't have to be nice."

"I'm not. I'm being honest."

She looks at me. Really looks. Then shakes her head. "You're weird, Ridgeway."

"I prefer 'thorough.'"

"Weird."

Orry crawls toward a basket of blocks. Dumps them out. Starts stacking. His little face scrunched in concentration.

"He's obsessed with organizing things," Cecie says. "Lines up his toys by color. It's bizarre."

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