Page 90 of Biker Orc Baby Daddy

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"I panicked when I couldn't find you. The napkin was. It was all I had."

I blink at him. This awkward, earnest man who hoards glitter-stained napkins and builds spreadsheets for feelings he doesn't know how to name.

"I'm sorry I made it hard," I whisper.

"I'm sorry I made it harder."

We sit. The paper between us. Proof. Evidence. The end of uncertainty.

"What now?" I ask.

"I don't know."

"Me neither."

"I want. I want to be his dad. Really be his dad. Not just. Not just the guy who helps sometimes."

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"Yeah. I mean. Youarehis dad. Biology says so." I tap the paper. "Also he adores you. And you're. You're good with him. Better than I expected."

"Low bar."

"Fair." I smile. Tiny. "But seriously. You're. You're really good, Gunther."

His face flushes. "I'm trying."

"I know."

"I want to do this right."

"What does that mean?"

"I don't know yet. But. Can we figure it out? Together?"

"Together."

"Yeah."

I look at him. Really look. At the man who walked into my life wearing a bad disguise and walked back in wearing glasses and honesty. Who panicked over fevers. Who learned to change diapers like he was defusing a bomb. Who looked at Orry and saw. Not an obligation. Not a mistake.

A son.

"Yeah," I say. "We can figure it out."

He exhales. Long. Shaky. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me yet. I'm a mess. Orry's a mess. This whole situation is?—"

"Complicated."

"Exactly."

"I can do complicated."

"Can you?"

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