Page 100 of Biker Orc Baby Daddy
Gunther watches me. Concerned. Confused. Like he's trying to solve an equation with half the numbers missing.
"You're upset," he says.
"I'm fine."
"You're not."
"I'm processing."
"About Family Weekend?"
"About everything."
He nods. Slow. Careful. "We don't have to do it. The event. If you don't want to."
"I know."
"But?"
"But nothing." I set my mug down. Too hard. Coffee sloshes again. "It's a good idea. Strategically. Like Colum said. We control the narrative. We show up. We're fine. We'regreat. And suddenly everyone's too busy being impressed to gossip."
"Okay."
"But."
"But?"
I exhale. Sharp. "But it's also. It's alsoterrifying. Because what if we're not fine? What if we're. What if we're a disaster? What if we show up and it's obvious we don't know what we're doing and everyonesees?"
He steps closer. Not touching. But close enough I can feel the heat of him. "We're not a disaster."
"We barely know each other."
"We know enough."
"Gunther—"
"We know Orry." His voice drops. Quiet. Certain. "And that's the important part."
I stare at him. This man who walked into my life wearing a bad disguise and walked back in wearing honesty and a spreadsheet and a heart too big for his chest.
"You're really okay with this," I say.
"I'm really okay with this."
"Even the public part? The. The town knowing? The questions? The?—"
"The judgment?" He smiles. Tiny. Sad. "I'm used to it."
"Because you're an orc?"
"Because I'm different. Because people always have opinions about things they don't understand."
I think about that. About the way people look at him sometimes. The way they look atme. Single mom. Small business owner. Woman who had a baby with a man she barely knew.
We're a walking scandal. A living, breathing invitation to speculation.
And yet.
