Epilogue
ELLA
Three years later
I am so pregnant I look like I swallowed a watermelon.
Even my own reflection seems to look away, like she can’t quite meet my eyes, and I can’t blame her.
It’s a wonder I fit through the kitchen doorway anymore with this enormous belly pressing out in front of me and turning my stride into a full-on waddle.
My ankles have all but vanished. Sleep is nothing but a fever dream now, broken up into wild, two-hour sprints, punctuated by me chugging antacids like I’m in some kind of midnight contest. The baby’s been practicing her ninja moves since two a.m., kicking and twisting like she’s already gearing up for a tournament or maybe just trying to tunnel out sideways.
I haven’t decided what her plan is, but she’s definitely got one.
Welcome to Monday morning in the Arch household. I waddle into the kitchen and find cereal strewn everywhere by my adorable, hyperactive toddler. Olen, my two-year-old, sits atop his booster throne with a bowl of cereal the size of his head.
Not shocking, he inherited his father’s green skin tone and tusks with my hair.
The small green Orc with a shock of copper strands that sticks up in every direction and seems immune to gravity is absolutely adorable.
He catches sight of me as I enter and grins, cereal leaking out the side of his mouth, dimples on full blast.
“Mama!” he yells, wielding his spoon like a weapon.
“Hi, little man,” I say, detouring around the slippery landmines of his previous breakfast “experiments” on the floor.
I reach the counter and grip the edge, using it as leverage to lift my personal blimp a few precious centimeters off the ground.
The coffee carafe is tantalizingly close.
My back cracks in protest as I pour a cup, steadying it with both hands.
Olen drums the spoon against the bowl in a rhythm only he understands. “Mama, look! I stir it up!” He demonstrates, spinning so fast that a mini cyclone of crispy bits launches over the rim and rains down on the table, chair, and, somehow, my left foot. Milk splashes my sweatpants.
I take a breath, set my coffee down, and smile at him. “Great job, Olen, but remember you have to keep the cereal in the bowl.”
I mop my pants with a kitchen towel, wondering where my overprotective husband is.
I’m just about to waddle myself into a chair when Oren appears in the doorway.
His eyes scan the perimeter, every window and corner, like the kitchen is the last stand before the enemy breaks through.
He has a way of standing with his shoulders perfectly aligned to block both the toddler and me from the door, as if his body alone could absorb all chaos and keep us safe. Olen spots him and roars in approval.
“Daddy! I mixing!”
“Good job, little man.” Oren crosses to the table in two steps, tousles Olen’s hair, and then turns his focus on me. He does the usual visual scan: eyes to my face, then to my belly, then to my face again. His nostrils flare with a quick, almost imperceptible breath.
Oren leans in and kisses my forehead. His lips linger an extra second, and our daughter does a little flip. “How did you sleep?” His voice is the perfect mix of gravel and silk.
“I managed to get a few hours,” I tell him as he steps close and pulls me into his arms. I melt all over, right there by the fridge.
His mouth brushes mine, slow at first, but then he tilts my chin up and claims me with a kiss that knocks the air right out of my lungs.
All the tiredness, all the cereal shrapnel coating the floor, and the giant belly wedged between us disappear from my mind.
The only thing that matters is the way his lips move on mine, hot and hungry and careful, like I’m both fragile and the sexiest thing he’s ever seen.
I grip the front of his t-shirt for balance, heart hammering, and our daughter gives a thump like she’s rooting for her parents to get a room.
His hands settle at my hips, thumbs tracing lazy circles just under my shirt, and that familiar sizzle arcs up my spine. God, I won’t ever get enough of my Orc prince. He pulls back and places his forehead against mine. “You go take it easy while I clean up the little gremlin.”
Oren guides me straight to the living room, one giant hand braced under my elbow, holding me like I’m spun glass.
He doesn’t let go until I’m fully parked on the giant leather sofa, where I sink six inches into the cushions.
God, I love this couch. It’s the only piece of furniture in the house that makes my pregnant ass feel petite.
Oren tucks a throw pillow behind my back, gives me a look that says “stay put,” and then leans in for another kiss. He tastes like coffee, temptation, and a little bit of sin. My belly does a happy flip and so does my heart.
He’s gone in a flash, stomping back to the kitchen to rescue the cereal-drenched toddler and probably disinfect the entire room. I melt even deeper into the sofa, feeling safe, spoiled, and oh so loved.
He’s the best mate ever. The big green warlord gets up at dawn damn near every day, just to let me sleep. If that isn’t true love, I don’t know what is. My inner romantic does a happy little dance, ignoring the facts that my back is screaming and the baby is karate-chopping my bladder.
I still can’t believe I get to have this.
Not just an Orc prince mate and an adorable Orc toddler, but also actual peace for the first time in my life.
Every morning, I wake up and marvel that there’s not a single shriek from my mother on the security panel, not even a passive-aggressive text from one of the Blume sisters. Oren made sure all that drama vanished.
He took one look at the situation, decided my happiness came first, and handled it with the kind of ruthless efficiency that makes him terrifying both on the battlefield and in the boardroom.
He got my mom some ridiculous job offer across the country and threw in a “discount” on a luxury condo so irresistible, she packed up the stepsisters and hit the road in under forty-eight hours.
Last I heard, they were busy making someone else’s life hell on the East Coast.
Not a single peep since. No guilt trips, no threats, no drama. Just peace and happiness. The universe really gave me the best freaking gift when it brought my big, obsessed Orc into my life.
I stretch out, hand on my belly, and soak it all in—the harmony, the security, and the wild, messy love of our family. I never thought I’d get a happy ending. But now? I wouldn’t trade this for anything.
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