Chapter 7 #2
Because that dimple. That smile. That moment when Orry reached for him and something in Gunther's expression broke open.
I've seen that look before.
Just once.
In the dark. With a man who called himself Ridge and disappeared before sunrise.
No. I'm imagining things. Seeing patterns where none exist. Gunther is Gunther. Ridge is Ridge. They're not the same person.
Can't be.
But that dimple.
I head to my bedroom. Sink onto the bed. Hold my phone and look at the calendar.
Eighteen months since that night. Eighteen months since I woke up alone in a hotel room and decided to move forward without looking back.
Tomorrow I'm having dinner with a man who might be a stranger.
Or might be the father of my child.
Please be a stranger. The prayer forms unbidden. Please let this be coincidence.
Because if it's not, everything changes.
And I've never been good with change.
Pizza boxes cover Colum's desk. Three kinds because apparently simple decisions aren't Colum's style. Pepperoni. Veggie. Something with goat cheese and arugula that looks like it costs more than my monthly glitter budget.
I stand in the doorway with Orry on my hip, second-guessing every life choice that led me here.
"Cecie!" Colum waves a slice. "Perfect timing. Come in, come in."
Gunther sits in the corner chair, posture rigid, hands folded in his lap like he's waiting for a dentist appointment. He looks up when I enter. Adjusts his glasses. Opens his mouth. Closes it.
Smooth.
"Hi." I hitch Orry higher. "We're not late, are we?"
"Right on time." Colum pulls out a chair. "Sit. Eat. Orry, my man, I got you covered."
He produces a container of those organic baby puffs. The expensive kind I pretend I can afford.
Orry lunges for them. "Puh!"
"Magic word?" I prompt.
"Puh! Puh! Puh!"
"Close enough." I settle into the chair. Accept the container from Colum. Pop the lid and hand Orry a puff.
He shoves it in his mouth. Grins at Gunther. Orange crumbs everywhere.
Gunther stares back, expression unreadable.
The silence stretches. Ahem. Colum’s eyes grow wide for a second.
"So." He grabs a slice of goat cheese monstrosity. "Cecie, how's the shop? Inventory settling in?"
"Getting there." I tear a piece of pepperoni pizza into tiny bits for Orry. "Had a run on lip gloss this afternoon. Prom season's brutal."
"Revenue up?"
"Sixteen percent from last month."
Colum grins. "That's my girl. Gunther, didn't I tell you she's brilliant?"
Gunther nods. Still hasn't said a word.
I study him across the desk. Same glasses. Same button-up shirt. Same careful, controlled energy that feels nothing like Ridge's loose confidence.
They can't be the same person.
But that dimple. And the way he looked at Orry yesterday, like he was solving an equation that didn't add up.
"Gunther." I keep my voice light. "Colum says you're great with kids."
He blinks. "I… what?"
"Kids. You know. Small humans. Loud. Sticky."
"I don't actually… I haven't spent much time—" He stops. Regroups. "I like kids. In theory."
"In theory." I raise an eyebrow. "Very scientific."
"I mean, I'm sure they're fine. Kids. Generally."
Colum snorts into his pizza.
Orry, bored with our conversation, flings a puff at Gunther. It bounces off his glasses.
"Oh. Sorry." I lean forward to retrieve it.
"It's fine." Gunther picks up the puff. Examines it with the focus of someone defusing a bomb. "Do I give this back?"
"Nah, floor rule. Five seconds. It's been seven." I grab another puff from the container. "Here, try this. Hold it out. He'll take it from you."
Gunther extends the puff like he's offering food to a wild animal.
Orry snatches it. Stuffs it in his mouth. Giggles.
"Duh!" He points at Gunther.
"That's not my name." Gunther glances at me. "What does duh mean?"
"Could be anything. Dude. Duck. Dummy. He's working on consonants."
"Ah." Gunther looks at Orry again. "Hello, Orry. I'm Gunther. Gun-ther."
"Duh!"
"Close enough," Colum mutters.
I bite back a smile. Watch Gunther try to pronounce his own name slowly, like Orry's going to suddenly master three syllables.
It's awkward. Dorky. Kind of endearing.
Stop that. I redirect my brain. Focus on the mission.
"So, Gunther." I tear off a bite of pizza. "How long have you lived in Poplar Springs?"
"Three years. Moved here when Colum opened the firm."
"Before that?"
"Different city. Same kind of work." He adjusts his glasses. "Why?"
"Just curious. Making conversation." I keep my tone casual. "Ever hang out at that bar on Fifth? The one with the terrible lighting and good cocktails?"
His expression doesn't change. "I don't go to bars much."
"Not even for celebrations? Office parties?"
"Sometimes. But I usually leave early."
Liar. The thought comes swift and certain. Because someone who leaves early doesn't end up sweaty and laughing in a hotel room at two AM.
Unless he's telling the truth. Unless I'm imagining connections that don't exist.
Orry squirms. I set him on the floor with Mr. Grunt and a handful of puffs. He immediately crawls toward Gunther's chair.
"Orry, no. Come back." I move to grab him.
"It's okay." Gunther shifts his legs to give Orry space. "He's fine."
Orry pulls himself up using Gunther's pant leg. Stands there wobbling, proud of his vertical achievement.
He raises his arms.
Gunther freezes. Looks at me.
"You don't have to," I say quickly.
"I want, I mean. If it's okay."
I nod.
He reaches down. Lifts Orry with careful, deliberate movements. Settles him on his knee.
Orry pats Gunther's face. Finds his glasses. Tries to yank them off.
"Gentle." Gunther catches the tiny hands. "These help me see."
"See!" Orry parrots.
"Yes. See." Gunther bounces his knee slightly. Orry squeals with delight.
And there… there Gunther smiles. Unguarded. Genuine. A dimple flashing deep in his right cheek.
My chest tightens.
"You're good at this." The words come out before I can stop them.
Gunther glances up. "At what?"
"The whole baby thing. For someone who doesn't have experience."
"He's easy." Gunther looks down at Orry. "Happy kid."
"Most of the time. You should hear him at three AM."
"Teeth?"
"Teeth. Nightmares. General rage at the universe." I lean back in my chair. "Single parenting's no joke."
"I imagine not." His voice goes soft. "Do you… does he have any… I mean. Is there anyone who helps?"
Here it comes again. The question everyone asks. The judgment wrapped in concern.
"We're fine," I say evenly.
"I didn't mean—" Gunther stops. "I just thought. If you needed. Support."
"I don't."
Colum coughs. "Actually, I was thinking. Cecie, you've been running on fumes since opening the shop. What if Gunther watched Orry sometimes? Gave you a break?"
"What?" Gunther and I say simultaneously.
"You're neighbors. Gunther's schedule is flexible. Orry clearly likes him." Colum gestures at them. "Win-win."
"I don't need a babysitter," I say.
"Everyone needs breaks," Colum counters.
"I barely know Gunther."
"So get to know him." Colum grins. "Unless you'd rather hire a stranger off the internet."
I glare at him. He just keeps grinning.
Gunther bounces Orry again. "I wouldn't mind. Helping. If you wanted."
"You have a job."
"I have flexibility." He meets my eyes. "And I like him. Orry. He's...good."
The sincerity in his voice catches me off guard.
Don't trust it. I learned that lesson sixteen months ago. Men say things. Make promises. Disappear before sunrise.
But Gunther's not disappearing. He's right here. Holding my son. Looking at me like he means it.
"Let me think about it," I hedge.
"Fair." Gunther shifts Orry to his other knee. "No pressure."
We eat in silence for a while. Colum makes cheerful commentary about plaza renovations and upcoming community events. I nod in the right places. Gunther stays quiet, focused on keeping Orry entertained.
He's surprisingly good at it. Makes silly faces. Lets Orry grab his glasses. Produces a pen from his pocket and lets Orry examine it like a treasure.
He's trying. The thought surfaces unbidden. He cares.
Or he's guilty. Or curious. Or just awkward around babies and doing his best. I need to know.
"Gunther." I keep my voice casual. "Weird question. Have we met before?"
He stills. "Before?"
"Before I moved here. Before the shop. Maybe...at that bar I mentioned?"
His jaw tightens. "I don't think so."
"You sure? Because sometimes I feel like—" I stop. Regroup. "You seem familiar."
"I have one of those faces." He adjusts his glasses with his free hand. "Generic."
"You're definitely not generic."
Colum chokes on his pizza.
Gunther's cheeks flush. "I just meant. Common features. Nothing distinctive."
"Except the dimple," I say softly.
His hand goes to his cheek. Unconscious. "What about it?"
"Orry has the same one. Right side. Same placement."
The room goes very quiet. Gunther looks down at Orry. At the tiny face pressed against his chest. At the dimple that mirrors his own.
"Lots of people have dimples," he says finally.
"That's what I said." I lean forward. "But not everyone has the same eyes. Same smile. Same—"
"Cecie." His voice cracks. "What are you asking?"
Are you Ridge? The question hovers on my tongue. Did you leave me in that hotel room? Are you Orry's father?
But I can't say it. Can't break open this moment with accusations that might be wrong.
"Nothing." I stand. "It's late. We should go."
"Wait." Gunther shifts Orry gently. "I didn't, I'm sorry if I—"
"It's fine. Really." I reach for Orry. "Come on, baby. Time for bed."
Orry whines. Clings to Gunther's shirt.
"Hey. Mama's got you." I try to pry him loose. He wails.
"Maybe I could—" Gunther stands. "Walk you home? If it would help."
"It's next door."
"Still."
I should say no. Should take Orry and leave and put distance between us and this feeling building in my gut.
But Orry's crying. And Gunther's looking at me with quiet desperation. And Colum's watching us both like we're his favorite reality show.
"Fine." I grab the diaper bag. "Let's go."
We walk the thirty feet to my shop entrance in silence. Gunther carries Orry, who's stopped crying and is now playing with the buttons on Gunther's shirt.
I unlock the door. Flip on the lights.
"Thanks for dinner," I say. Professional. Boundaried. Safe.
"Of course." Gunther shifts Orry. Hesitates. "Can I ask you something?"
No. "Sure."
"The father. Orry's father. Is he? Do you know who he is?"
The question hits like a punch.
"Why?" My voice comes out sharp.
"I just wondered. If Orry had. If there was someone."
"There isn't." I take Orry from his arms. "It's just us."
"But you knew him. The father."
"For one night." The admission slips out. "He was a mistake. A good mistake, because I got Orry. But still a mistake."
Gunther's face goes pale. "A mistake."
"Yeah." I adjust Orry on my hip. "I left before he woke up. Never got his real name. Never saw him again."
"Maybe he didn't know." Gunther's voice drops to barely a whisper. "Maybe if he'd known about Orry—"
"It doesn't matter." I cut him off. "We're fine. Better than fine. We don't need him."
"Everyone needs—" He stops. Shakes his head. "Sorry. It's not my place."
"No. It's not." The words come out harsher than I intended. Gunther flinches.
"I should go." He backs toward the door. "Thank you for coming tonight."
"Gunther, wait—"
But he's already leaving. I watch him cross the plaza, shoulders hunched, hands shoved in his pockets.
Idiot. I don't know if I mean him or me. Orry yawns. Rubs his eyes with tiny fists.
"Yeah, buddy. Bedtime." I to my car, parked in front of the store and drive home. My heart pounds at the words unspoken, the admissions left out. Go through the routine. Diaper change. Pajamas. Bottle. Story.
Orry fights sleep like always, but eventually his eyes drift shut. I set him in the crib. Pull the blanket up. I stand there watching him breathe.
That dimple. Those eyes. That smile that belongs to a man who might be a stranger or might be the father of my child.
I need to know. Tomorrow. Tomorrow I'll find out the truth. Even if it terrifies me.
The knock comes at seven AM. Who in the hell is knocking at my door this early?
I stumble to the door in my bathrobe, Orry on my hip, hair a disaster.
Gunther stands in the hallway holding two coffee cups and a bag from the bakery down the street.
"Hi." He thrusts the coffee forward. "I brought. Um. Peace offering?"
I stare at him. "It's seven AM. How did you know where I live?"
"I know. I'm sorry. Your address is on file with Colum becuase of the storefront lease. I'm sorry, perhaps I shouldn't have done this. I couldn't sleep. I kept thinking about what you said. About Orry's father being a mistake. And I—" He stops. Takes a breath. "Can I come in?"
I should say no. Should protect Orry and myself and the life we've built.
But Gunther looks wrecked. Dark circles under his eyes. Shirt wrinkled like he slept in it. And that expression, desperate and scared and hopeful, breaks something in me.
"Fine." I step back. "But you're explaining yourself."
He enters. Sets the coffee and pastries on my small kitchen counter. Turns to face me.
Orry reaches for him. "Duh!"
"Hey, Orry." Gunther's voice shakes. He lets Orry grab his finger. And my baby squeezes.
Gunther's face goes slack. Raw emotion flooding his features. He looks at Orry. At the tiny hand wrapped around his finger. At the dimple and the eyes and the smile that mirrors his own.
"Dada?" The word comes out barely a whisper. The orc whispered dada to my baby!
But I hear it.
Oh God.
"What did you just say?"
Gunther's eyes snap to mine. Horror and hope warring on his face.
"I… nothing. I didn't—"
"You said dada." My heart hammers. "Gunther. Why did you just say?"
He opens his mouth. Closes it. Looks down at Orry still gripping his finger. And I see it. All of it. The truth written in every line of his face.
"I'm Ridge. And you're Sis, Sis. Cecie."