Page 11

Starring Georgie and Claire From The Orc’s Christmas Romance

I look fat at this angle.

Well, I am fat.

I tilt my chin, and the double chin is right there as I look at my reflection in the mirror. How can I have lost ten pounds and gained a chin? That is criminal.

I turn from the bedroom mirror and stop, frozen by the door across the hall from the expansion we’ve built. Under us is my bakery. Above, three more bedrooms, a bathroom, and a den. It’s going to be the playroom, and those bedrooms—the one across from ours is going to be the nursery.

“Baby?”

I gasp in, and it hurts so much suddenly that I can’t breathe. My husband is calling me baby, like he does half the time, and I can only think about a little bundle that I want to hold in my arms, one we haven’t managed to make yet—and maybe we never will.

If we do... It’ll never know my side of the family. Mom is gone. Dad won’t speak to me. Disowned me. My brother thinks I’m a nutcase, and that means his wife and kids are off limits, too.

“Claire? I was going to see if — Honey!”

Georgie barrels at me. A huge green orc in a tank top that pulls taut over his abs and shows off his bulging biceps, and long, thundering legs in butt-hugging jeans... The sight would terrify any man. Women would just drool.

“I’m okay.”

“You do not sound okay. You sound miserable.” Georgie wraps his arms around me and lifts me up, peering into my face. “What’s wrong, sweetest sugar, sharpest blade?”

Ooh, that man. He can work words around like nobody’s business—and only for me. The rest of the world knows him for his grunts and scowls.

But he’ll make the best dad. His dad is the best. His mom. His sister. Her husband.

I burst into tears. “I bring nothing to the equation except a double chin!” I wail.

To his credit, Georgie doesn’t drop me for bursting into tears right in his face. “What? This little extra nibble spot? It’s so soft. And delicious.” He bites down softly on my neck, moving up my tear-stained cheeks, nuzzling me, and leaving little kisses.

“But I bring nothing!”

“Claire, what in the—”

“Our babies will never know my side of the family because my side of the family is made up of horrible, horrible, selfish people,” I sob.

“Renaldo is horrible people?” Georgie puts me down and crosses his arms.

Renaldo is the doorman who sort of adopted me when we moved into the swanky penthouse in a swanky apartment building.

He’s moved to Pine Ridge now, and he’s engaged to be married to Madge, the intimidating little lady who runs the magic shop.

He has become the father that I never had and always needed, even though the short little Hispanic dude looks nothing like tall, icily handsome Luke Langdon—my biological dad, who tried to have me committed, stole my trust money, and was basically all around a shitty person.

I shouldn’t want my kids around a man like that.

Ray will be warm and loving and a perfect grandpa.

That makes me cry harder for some stupid reason. Logic is being an asshole.

“I look nothing like my parents. They were so pretty. So thin. Nipped and tanned and tucked. Whatever, they were model-perfect.”

“Where the fuck is this coming from?” Georgie growls out, voice coming from low in his chest.

“I saw the empty nursery, and maybe I’ll never get pregnant, and even if I do, the baby will never know my parents.

Or my brother. Or his cousins! Or her cousins.

All I brought was Ray, and I love Pop, but I had so much more.

Like, cosmically speaking, I started out with more, and now I just have.

.. Ray. And that sounds so crappy, because Ray is hands down so much better than my biological father or my dumbass brother. ”

“Yes.” Georgie doesn’t mince words, which is one reason I love him, but also why he intimidates the hell out of people.

“Yes, you’re right, and I’m thankful for who you bring, babe.

Ray is now my father’s bestest best friend.

Without Ray, there would be no ‘bromance for the ages’ going on, and without Ray, Madge would never have fallen in love, and she wouldn’t be your mother-in-law-to-be.

She wouldn’t be in-laws with my mother, and you know she and my mother are best friends.

Sweetie, you are the knot that ties us all together. ”

I stare at him, because the word knot has a very different connotation in Orc couples, and even in the midst of whatever breakdown I’m having, my mind goes to the gutter.

Georgie stares sternly. “No gutter. You know what I mean. I’m happy for what you bring to my family, but do you know what?

You don’t have to bring a damn thing. I just wanted you.

And if you want a big family, we’ll find a way to make it happen.

Fostering, adopting, a dozen pregnancies—I don’t care, Claire.

And I also don’t care if we have zero kids.

We can be that little old shriveled-up couple who has twelve yappy dogs and a house full of parakeets.

I don’t care, because I married you. Not your family.

I love you. You.” He cups my face and brings his forehead to rest on mine.

“Life can change so fast. I could wake up tomorrow, and my parents could be gone. Georgia and Douglas could move away. But you and me... We get to spend this life and eternity together.”

“Just me?” I sniffle. “Is enough?”

“Beyond enough.”

“I feel better.” I do. I’m still feeling a little woozy and shaken up for no apparent reason, but I’m better than I was.

“You are going to get on the couch, and I’m making you a new recipe I want to try. Apple-cranberry muffins. Extra streusel and whipped cinnamon butter.”

“Mmm. That’s good comfort food. All of your food is comfort food.”

“That’s because I’m your comforter—and you’re mine. I really don’t—”

“Wait, honey. Pop is calling.” I wipe away tears and smile up at Georgie as he tucks me in with a fleece blanket.

“Because he’s amazing. He’s family,” Georgie says with a glare, crossing his arms, daring me to argue.

I won’t. I believe him—when I’m not having some stupid hormonal existential crisis. “Hi!”

“ Mi Vida ! Claire, can you and Georgie come to dinner on Tuesday? Taco Tuesday, family style?”

“Family style?” I squeak.

“Of course! Madge will be there.” Ray’s voice goes all soft and dreamy. “You know, she is such a powerful woman—”

“I’ll say,” I mumble, because Madge is not only a powerful witch, but she owns a magic store, rarely smiles, and has an iron gray pixie cut. She looks like someone shrunk a drill sergeant, gave him arcane lore, eyeliner, and fierce choices in purple clothes and dark red lipstick.

“And for all that—she is so scared to get married and be your ‘step-mother’ and perhaps an abuela. She worries that you will think she is too intimidating.”

“What? I love Madge! She is intimidating, in the best possible way.” I wipe away tears (yes, more) because I suddenly remember how she and Georgie’s mother were with me as I prepared to walk down the aisle, how they mothered me, and comforted me, and...

And made me not feel alone.

“Tell her she’s not alone, Pop. She’s going to make this family feel so real. It’s gonna be so nice that our kids have two sets of grandparents right in the same town.”

“That’s what I said!” Pop cries. “Emotions are funny things. Sometimes, they are like angry, hungry kittens. You just have to feed them and scratch them just right, right, Cupcake?”

“Right, Pop.”

“I’m feeding her right now. Apple-cranberry muffins will be ready in an hour. Do you and Madge want to come over and play Scrabble?” Georgie shouts from the kitchen.

“Madge will have to come over after eight—the shop is open until then. But I will be there in an hour. Are Ian and Farrah coming?”

Georgie pokes his head in.

“He says, are Ian and Farrah coming?”

“That’s up to you, babe. You want the house to be full of family?”

Funny how I can feel so alone one minute and so loved and surrounded by support the next. Some women hate their in-laws. My in-laws adore me, and it is so mutual. Farrah Fenclan is stunning and willowy, with silvery blonde hair, and yet she never makes me feel like some outcast, some ugly mistake.

“I’ll ask them, Pop.”

“It’s okay if they can’t. I was just hoping to beat Ian.”

I laugh. “I’ll text them.”

“Can I bring anything?”

“Just yourself. You are enough.”

Georgie smiles at me, a mixing bowl cradled in one arm. “That’s my girl,” he mouths.

I beam back. That’s right. I am.