Page 45 of Falling for the Grumpy Orc
Without breaking stride, Gerralt tears off a small piece of bacon and tosses it down to her. She pounces on it with a purr so loud I can hear it from across the room.
"Traitor," I mutter at her. "I spent weeks trying to get you to come inside, and he shows up with bacon and suddenly you're his best friend."
"She knows quality when she sees it," Gerralt rumbles, placing a plate in front of me loaded with eggs, bacon, and toast. The eggs are perfectly cooked, the yolks still slightly runny—exactly how I like them.
"Thank you," I say, genuinely touched by the gesture. "This looks amazing."
He nods, bringing his own plate, piled considerably higher, to sit beside me at the counter. For a few minutes, we eat in comfortable silence, the only sounds the clink of forks against plates and Marigold's persistent purring at our feet.
“Why did you divorce your ex-husband?” Gerralt asks point-blank. He’s not for beating around the bush, for sure.
The question catches me off guard. I take a sip of coffee to buy myself time, considering how much to share. Something about the quiet morning, about the way he's looking at me like he really wants to know, makes me brave.
Gerralt waits, giving me space to continue at my own pace. I take a deep breath.
"I was supposed to be at a decorator’s conference that weekend, but my flight was canceled and I couldn’t book another till the next morning, so I came home." The words come out flat, emotionless,though the memory still stings. "That’s when I caught Jason cheating on me with his secretary. In our house. Our bed."
I scoff and the familiar anger rises in my throat, but it doesn’t have the same sting as it usually does. I shake my head.
"I left that day. Just packed what would fit in my suitcase while he tried to talk me into staying. Then I walked out. Never went back." I swallow hard, memories flooding back. My fingers tighten around my mug. "I refused to even talk to him after that. Everything was done through the lawyers. It was pretty easy since I didn’t want anything from him. I have no interest in his money or anything he can give me. I didn't ask for anything except my half of that house he betrayed me in. The house we bought together, that I helped pay for. That's all I want. What's rightfully mine so I can start over. But he's dragging his feet on signing the sale papers, and I'm running out of time."
Gerralt's jaw tightens, his tusks more pronounced with the tension.
"Why Saltford Bay?" Gerralt prods, his amber eyes curious as they meet mine. "Why uproot your whole life to start again here?"
"I stayed with Silvia for a while, but my life in Portland didn’t feel like mine anymore. I realized that as long as I was staying put, I could never truly be free of him. That’s when I found the Saltwater Lodge through an online auction website." I laugh, but it’s a sad little laugh. “I guess it says a lot about me, right? Buying this place without much of a plan.”
I realize I've never told anyone the whole story before. Not Silvia, not my mother, no one. Saying it aloud makes me feel raw, exposed, but oddly lighter, too.
Gerralt doesn't immediately respond. He doesn't offer platitudes or try to fix it. He just listens, his amber eyes never leaving mine.
"You did the right thing," he finally says, his deep voice rumbling with sincerity. “Leaving like that. You deserve to build a life of your own choosing.”
"My mother strongly disagrees." I snort, though it comes out hollow. “She doesn’t understand why I can’t just stay in Portland and turn over a new leaf there.”
His brow furrows, tusks jutting out slightly with his frown. "Maybe she doesn't understand that sometimes, you need to shed your old skin for the new one to shine."
I stare at him, shocked into silence by the unexpected wisdom in his words. There's something about the way he says it, with such certainty, such understanding, that makes me feel seen in a way I haven't in years. Maybe ever.
Before I can respond, a sharp knock at the door breaks the moment.
I glance at Gerralt, who looks equally confused. We didn't hear a car coming up the drive, and it's too early for deliveries.
"Are you expecting someone?" he asks, pushing back from the counter.
"No." I shake my head, rising from my stool. "Maybe it's the sheriff following up with news about Bront Billings?"
We approach the door together, Gerralt slightly behind me but close enough that I can feel his warmth at my back. I open the door cautiously, half expecting more unwelcome surprises.
Not much could have prepared me for what I see.
Standing on my porch is a tall, elderly orc woman. Her skin is a paler shade of green than Gerralt's, lined with age but still vibrant, and she smiles so widely that her tusks almost touch her cheekbones. A thick gray braid wraps over one shoulder, falling almost to her waist. Heramber eyes, a familiar shade, sparkle with intelligence and humor. Her arms are loaded with what appears to be an entire garden's worth of fall vegetables: squash, potatoes, carrots, and bundles of herbs.
I blink in shock, but before I can say anything, Gerralt steps up beside me. His expression pulls into a fearsome frown, more threatening than I've ever seen before.
"Good morning, Gerralt," the elderly orc says, her voice warm despite his glower.
"Good morning, Gran," Gerralt replies, his tone somewhere between resignation and respect.
