Chapter 13
CECIE
Three months later, I'm standing in the back room of Sparkle Beauty, trying not to sweat through my dress.
"Hold still." My mother tugs at the zipper. "You're fidgeting."
"I'm pregnant and wearing Spanx. I'm allowed to fidget."
"Language, Cecelia."
"It's my wedding day. I'll swear if I want to. Besides, I didn't swear."
She sighs. Steps back. Studies me with that look mothers have when their daughters do something simultaneously wonderful and terrifying.
"You look beautiful."
"I look like I swallowed a basketball."
"A small basketball." She smooths a wrinkle near my hip. "And you're glowing."
"That's sweat."
"Cecelia."
I meet her eyes in the mirror. She's wearing lavender. Hair done. Lipstick perfect. The same woman who cried when I told her about Orry, then showed up three days later with a crib and a lecture about safe sleep practices.
"Thanks for being here," I say.
"Where else would I be?"
"I don't know. Somewhere with fewer orcs."
She laughs. Soft. "Your stepfather's getting along fine with Gunther's family. He's asked seventeen questions about tusk maintenance."
"Oh god."
"It's sweet. In a bizarre way." She adjusts my veil. "Are you happy?"
The question sits between us. Real. Heavy.
"Yeah," I say. "I really am."
"Then that's all that matters."
A knock. The door cracks. My father's face appears.
"Ready?" he asks.
"Almost."
He steps in. Grey suit. Nervous smile. We've been rebuilding things slowly. Phone calls. Lunches. Him showing up to hold Orry while I restocked shelves.
"You look. Wow." He blinks. "Like your mother on our wedding day."
Mom's mouth tightens. But she nods. "She does."
"Thanks, Dad."
"Gunther's out there. Pacing. Colum threatened to tie him to a chair."
"Sounds about right."
"He's a good man, Sis."
"I know."
"And those tusks. Very distinguished."
"Dad."
He grins. Offers his arm. "Shall we?"
I take it. Mom kisses my cheek. Slips out to find her seat.
The music starts. Some blend of human processional and orcish drum cadence that Gunther's mother insisted on. It's. Actually kind of beautiful.
"Here we go," Dad says. We step into the plaza.
Colum went full theatrical. Of course he did.
The fountain's been decorated with ribbons in silver and green. Chairs arranged in neat rows. A canopy strung with lights even though it's two in the afternoon.
And people. So many people.
Fishborn staff. Sparkle Beauty regulars. Half of Poplar Springs, apparently. The retired drag queen's in the front row wearing a fascinator that could double as a small tree.
Gunther's family fills the left side. Orcs in formal wear. Gunther's mother dabbing her eyes with a handkerchief embroidered with their family crest.
And there. Centre. Under the canopy. Gunther. No glasses today. Contacts. Hair slicked back. Suit tailored to fit his frame. Tusks polished. He looks. Damn. His eyes find mine. Go wide. Soft. I try not to cry. Fail immediately.
Dad squeezes my arm. "Steady."
"Shut up. I'm pregnant and emotional."
"Fair."
We walk. The crowd stands. Orry's in the front row with Gunther's mother, waving a stuffed bear and shouting "Mama!" loud enough to make people laugh.
We reach the canopy. Dad kisses my cheek. Hands me over.
Gunther takes my hand. His palm's sweaty.
"Hi," he whispers.
"Hi."
"You're. You look. I can't."
"Breathe, Ridge."
He does. Smiles. That dorky, lopsided smile I've come to crave.
Colum clears his throat. He's wearing a purple suit. Naturally.
"Dearly beloved and slightly confused," he begins. "We're gathered to witness these two absolute disasters promise not to screw this up."
Laughter ripples through the crowd.
"Cecie and Gunther met under. Let's call them unconventional circumstances."
More laughter. Gunther's ears go red.
"But what started as one impulsive night became something neither of them expected. A son. A partnership. A family."
Colum gestures to Orry, who's now trying to eat the bear's ear.
"Today, they're making it official. Blending human vows with orcish bonding rites. Because why do anything halfway?"
"Colum," I mutter.
"Right. Vows. Gunther, you're up."
Gunther reaches into his pocket. Pulls out a folded paper. His hands shake.
"Cecie. I. Okay." He unfolds it. "I wrote this down because I knew I'd forget. But now I'm reading it and it sounds dumb."
"It's not dumb," I say.
"It's really dumb." He glances at the paper. Crumples it. "Forget it. I'll wing it."
"Gunther—"
"Sis. I spent a year thinking about a woman I couldn't find.
And when I finally did, she was holding our son and looking at me like I was a stranger.
Which. Fair. I was." He takes my other hand.
"You could've run. Could've kept me at arm's length.
But you didn't. You let me in. Let me learn.
Let me be a dad. And now. Now I get to be your husband. Which is. It's everything."
My vision blurs.
"I promise to show up. To be present. To change diapers and balance spreadsheets and hold your hand when things get hard. I promise to be the man you and Orry deserve. Even when I'm fumbling. Especially when I'm fumbling."
"Gunther." My voice cracks.
"I love you. Both of you. And this new little one." He touches my stomach. Gentle. "I love this family. And I'm. I'm so glad you said yes."
Colum's dabbing his eyes. Half the crowd's doing the same.
"Cecie," Colum prompts. "Your turn."
I don't have notes. Didn't plan anything. But the words come anyway.
"I thought I had it figured out. Business. Baby. Independence. I didn't need anyone. Didn't want anyone. And then you showed up in your stupid glasses and your pocket protector and you. You just. Stayed."
Gunther's grinning through tears.
"You didn't run when things got complicated. Didn't flinch when Orry threw up on your favourite shirt. Didn't blink when I told you I was pregnant again. You just. Rolled up your sleeves and got to work. Which is. The sexiest thing I've ever seen."
Laughter. Wolf whistles from the Fishborn crew.
"I promise to let you in. To stop pretending I can do everything alone. To build this life with you. Mess and all. I promise to love you. To laugh with you. To let you be the dorky, wonderful, slightly obsessive man you are. Because that man? He's mine. And I'm keeping him."
Gunther's crying now. Full on.
"I love you," I say. "Let's do this."
Colum sniffles. "Rings. Someone. Rings."
Gunther's best man, a quiet orc analyst from Fishborn, steps forward. Hands over two bands.
Gunther slides mine on first. Simple silver. Tiny mica stone set in the centre.
"Sparkle and structure," he says.
"Perfect."
I slide his on. Thicker. Etched with a pattern his mother designed.
Colum raises his hands. "By the power vested in me by the internet and the state of. Wherever we are. I now pronounce you married. Kiss. Do it. Everyone's waiting."
Gunther cups my face. Kisses me.
The crowd erupts.
Orry shrieks. Music starts. Drums and strings.
We pull apart. Gunther's grinning. I'm grinning.
"We did it," he says.
"We really did."
We turn. Walk back down the aisle. Married.
Holy hell.
The reception's in a massive tent Colum erected next to the fountain. White fabric. String lights. Tables with centrepieces made of. I don't even know. Flowers and crystals and possibly illegal amounts of glitter.
"He outdid himself," Gunther murmurs.
"He's going to bill us for this."
"Definitely."
We're ushered to the head table. Orry's deposited in a high chair between us, already covered in frosting from a cupcake someone handed him.
"Speech!" someone yells.
"No," I say.
"Yes!" Colum's at the microphone. Of course. "Ladies, gentlemen, and distinguished orcs. Let's hear it for the happy couple!"
Applause. Gunther stands. Pulls me up.
"We'll keep it short," he says.
"Thank god," someone mutters. Laughter.
"Thank you for being here. For supporting us. For. For being part of this." He glances at me. "We're. We're really lucky."
"What he said," I add. "Also, there's cake. Go nuts."
More applause. We sit.
Dinner's served. Some fusion menu Colum designed. Orcish roast with human sides. It's. Actually good.
Gunther's family mingles with mine. My stepfather's deep in conversation with Gunther's uncle about metalwork. My mother's cooing over Orry with Gunther's mother, both of them swapping parenting horror stories.
"This is surreal," I say.
"Good surreal?"
"Yeah. Good."
The evening rolls on. Dancing. Toasts. Colum gives a speech that's half heartfelt, half sales pitch for Fishborn Financial.
Gunther and I cut the cake. Feed each other. He smears frosting on my nose.
"You're dead," I say.
"Worth it."
We dance. Slow. His hand on my back. Mine on his shoulder.
"How's the baby?" he asks.
"Kicking. A lot."
"Good."
"You're smiling."
"I'm married. I'm allowed to smile."
"Fair."
The song ends. Another starts. Faster. People flood the floor.
I'm pulled into a circle with the Sparkle regulars. The drag queen spins me. The yoga mom laughs. The teen influencer films everything.
Gunther's swept up by his coworkers. They're doing some orcish group dance that involves a lot of stomping.
Orry's being passed around like a very cute football.
It's chaos.
It's perfect.
Later. Much later. The crowd thins. Colum's directing cleanup. Gunther and I sit by the fountain, Orry asleep in my lap.
"That was a wedding," I say.
"That was our wedding."
"Same thing."
He leans his head on my shoulder. "You happy?"
"Exhausted. But yeah. Happy."
"Me too."
We sit. Watch the last guests leave. The tent glows. Music fades.
Somewhere in the plaza, a camera clicks.
Gunther groans. "Tell me that's not another reporter."
"Probably Colum. He's documenting everything."
"Of course he is."
Orry stirs. Blinks. Sees Gunther. Smiles.
"Dada."
"Hey, buddy."
"Cake." Orry bangs on the table, his demands eliciting a smile on his dada.
"All gone." Gunther holds out his empty hands.
"More?"
"Tomorrow."
Orry considers. Nods. Snuggles back into my chest.