Page 56 of Biker Orc Baby Daddy
"I looked different. Sounded different. I wastryingto be different." I scrub my face. "She called herself Sis that night. I thought. I didn't realize Cecie was short for. It doesn't matter.Point is, she has no idea Ridge and Gunther are the same person."
"Had." Colum's voice gentles. "Past tense. Because you told her."
"This morning."
"How'd she take it?"
"Kicked me out."
"Yeah." He winces. "That tracks."
I pull off my glasses. Polish them even though they're already clean. My hands need something to do or they'll shake.
"There's more."
"More than impersonating a bad-boy orc and accidentally seducing a future tenant?"
"Orry." My voice cracks on the name. "Her son. He's. The timeline matches. And he has my dimple. My eyes. My—" I can't finish.
Colum goes pale. Stands. Walks to his ridiculous mug collection and just stares at it for a long moment.
Then: "You're a father."
"Maybe."
"Gunther—"
"I don'tknow." The frustration boils over. "She won't talk to me. And even if she did, what am I supposed to say?Hey, remember that one night stand you clearly regret? Surprise, it's me, your landlord's financial analyst. Let's coparent."
"Well. Maybe not in those exact words."
I laugh. It sounds unhinged.
Colum returns to his desk. Sits. Steeples his fingers in that way that means he's shifting from friend mode to business mode.
"Okay. Let's logic this out."
"There's no logic to this."
"There's always logic." He pulls out a notepad. Actually writesGunther's Situationat the top. "First: are you sure Orry's yours?"
"No. Maybe. Probably." I grip my hair. "He has my dimple, Colum. Theexactsame dimple. Right side. And those eyes. Crystal eyes are rare even among orcs. My grandmother had them. My mother. Me. And now?—"
"Okay. So probable paternity." He makes a note. "Second: do you want to be a father?"
The question stops me cold.
Want. Do I want this?
I think of Orry's tiny hand wrapped around my finger. His babbled "duh." The way he smiled at me like he knew something I didn't.
Duh. Short for dada from a seven month old. Somehow, my son knows me.
"Yes." The word comes out quiet. Sure. "I want to know him. I want. God, I want to be there. For both of them."
"Then we need a plan."
"A plan." I blink up at him. "Colum, this isn't a business acquisition."
