Page 70 of Healed By the Grumpy Elf

"I never thought…" He pauses, struggling to find words, which is so unlike him that it makes my throat tight. "I never thought I would have this. A home. A family. You."

I lean my forehead against his. "Well, get used to it, because in about eight months, there's going to be a tiny half-elf running around driving us both crazy."

This startles a laugh from him, bright and genuine. "How are you feeling now? Should you stay home today? The first trimester can be difficult, and—"

"Lorian," I interrupt. "I'm pregnant, not sick. As a doctor, you should know that."

He has the grace to look embarrassed. Granted, not by a lot. "Well, I do know that. I still want you to be as comfortable as possible."

"I'm fine," I assure him, accepting his help to stand up. "Just a little queasy in the mornings. Nothing I can't handle."

We return to the kitchen hand in hand, breakfast forgotten on the table. Lorian pulls out my chair for me, then pours fresh tea, his movements more tender than usual, if that's even possible. He can't seem to stop touching me, a hand on my shoulder as he passes, fingers brushing mine as he hands me my cup.

"What do you think they'll be like?" I ask, resting my hand on my stomach. "Our baby?"

Lorian considers this with a dreamy smile.

“If we are to believe my mother, I was a rather poised child, but I had a stubborn streak as well.” His smile widens, and it transforms hisentire face. “If our child is as stubborn as I was and as spirited as you are, we’re in for quite a ride.”

"So our child will be both stubborn and wild. Got it."

He chuckles. "I’m sure they'll also have your compassion. Your warmth."

"And your eyes, I hope. And those ears," I add, reaching up to trace the elegant point of his ear.

"Elven children are usually gifted their beds by their grandparents." His smile falters. “I will have to call my mother to see if she wishes to continue the tradition.”

The vulnerability in his voice when he mentions his mother, something he rarely does, makes my heart swell. Lorian has been estranged from his family since his self-imposed exile, their loyalties divided between him and the High Court. Perhaps this baby will be a bridge to healing those wounds, too.

The clock on the wall catches my eye. "We should get going or we'll both be late."

Lorian nods but makes no move to stand. "Everything is going to change," he says quietly.

"Are you scared?"

"Terrified," he admits. "And also absolutely happy."

I understand exactly what he means.

We prepare to leave for work, Lorian helping me with my jacket, his hands lingering on my shoulders. The morning sun fills the kitchen with golden light, catching on our wedding photo on the shelf and the Eternal Lily on the windowsill.

A year ago, I never could have imagined this life. Now, I can't imagine any other.

THE END