Page 68 of Healed By the Grumpy Elf

It's all the same. The same routine, the same school, the same colleagues.

But it all feels different now. I'm no longer just getting through each day. I'm looking forward to what comes next. To building a life with Lorian. To waking up beside him every morning. To creating our own family, perhaps with children, one day.

I reach up and touch his face, not caring who might see. "I love you, Lorian Reizenhart."

"And I love you, Maeve Callahan," he replies, his voice low and certain. "My True Mate."

With one last shared look, we part ways, Lorian to his clinic and me to my office. But it's not really a goodbye, just a brief separation.

Tonight, we'll be together again. And tomorrow. And all the days after that.

Maeve

One year later

The crisp autumn breeze drifts through the partially open kitchen window, carrying the scent of dew-kissed grass and the promise of changing leaves. I inhale deeply, savoring the moment of quiet before the busy day begins. My hands work with practiced ease as I slice fresh bread for toast, the knife making a satisfying sound against the cutting board.

First day of the new school year. The familiar flutter of anticipation tickles my stomach, a mixture of excitement and nerves that never quite goes away no matter how many years I've done this. But today, that flutter means something entirely different.

I arrange sliced strawberries on a plate in a fan pattern, something I'd never bother with just for myself, but Lorian appreciates these small aesthetic touches. The ritual of preparing breakfast for two still feels like a gift. I hear the shower running upstairs, water pipes humming through the walls of our cottage.

Our cottage. The thought still brings a smile to my face.

I hang the kettle over the stove for tea, chamomile for me, green for Lorian. The flame catches with a soft whoosh, and I move to the window while the water heats. The garden is still in full bloom, but the signs of the oncoming fall are there in subtle ways, from thedying tomato plants to the blooming marigolds. The air feels crisp and slightly damp in that giddy way of the early fall, promising cooler days and nights ahead.

The Eternal White Lily sits in its crystal vase on the windowsill, catching the early morning light. Its petals glow with a soft luminescence that has never dimmed since the night Lorian gave it to me. I touch one petal gently with my fingertip, still amazed by its cool, almost glass-like texture.

My hand drifts unconsciously to my abdomen. Still flat, with no outward sign of the life growing inside. Will our baby have Lorian's pointed ears? His ice-blue eyes? My unruly red hair? The possibilities make my heart race with both excitement and fear.

"Good morning."

I turn to find Lorian in the kitchen doorway, impeccable as always in his perfectly pressed shirt and slacks. His silver-blond hair is tied back in its usual neat style, not a strand out of place. Only I know how wild it looks spread across our pillows in the early morning light.

"You're up early," he says, crossing to me and pressing a kiss to my forehead.

"Couldn't sleep. First day jitters."

His ice-blue eyes crinkle at the corners. "After all these years? I find that hard to believe."

"Oh, please. Like you weren't reorganizing your medical supplies last night."

He has the grace to look slightly abashed. "Mrs. Beckham rearranged my vaccination drawer. It was unsettling."

I laugh and reach up to straighten his already straight tie. "Heaven forbid anyone disturb the sacred order of Dr. Reizenhart's clinic."

The kettle whistles, and I move to prepare our tea. Lorian takes his place at the table, immediately noticing the extra effort I've put into breakfast.

"Wow, this is some extra work you put in," he observes.

I bring the teapot to the table and sit across from him. "It's a special day. First day of school."

And the day I tell you we're going to be parents, I add silently. My heart pounds so hard I'm surprised he can't hear it. I've rehearsed this moment in my mind a dozen times since the test showed positive yesterday, but now that it's here, words fail me.

"Indeed," Lorian says, spreading honey on his toast with precise movements. "But you seem more anxious than usual. Is everything alright?"

I take a deep breath. "Everything's perfect. I'm just excited about the year ahead."

Lorian consults his watch. "I should be home by five today. I have a light schedule, but Millie Primrose is coming in after school with what Rylan describes as suspicious sneezing."