Page 18 of Grumpy Orc Daddy
Her voice trails off, and she looks away, lost in memories. I reach out, placing my hand over hers. "And look at you now. You’re doing amazing things for Lily."
Rayna's eyes meet mine. "I'm trying. That's why I work so hard at this parenting thing. I want her to have everything I didn't have."
The conversation drifts into deeper waters, touching on dreams deferred and future hopes. As we share these fragments of our pasts, the space between us fills with a new understanding, drawing us closer.
Rayna listens intently, her expression softening further with each word I share. It's clear that this exchange of personal histories and vulnerabilities is pulling us closer, building a bond that will shape Lily’s future.
"I always thought that if I could just reach the next goal, solve the next problem at OrcTech, I’d feel fulfilled," I confess, looking down at our intertwined hands. "But it’s never enough. And now, with Lily... I worry I won’t be the father she needs because of how much my work demands of me."
My mind wanders to the chaos of my day to day as a CEO. I’ve never had much time for myself, let alone a girlfriend. Now I have a daughter and my days of just working to get through the day are experiencing a shift in the way I have to prioritize. Lily comes first from here on out.
Rayna squeezes my hand, her voice gentle. "Janta, the fact that you worry about being a good father already shows how much you care. You’re here, aren’t you? After everything today, you’re here."
Her words wash over me like a salve. Her hand is warm on mine and it makes my heart quicken. I have to clear my throat before speaking. "I just don’t want to miss out on her life, you know? I don’t want to be absent, emotionally or physically."
Not having my parents made my childhood notably more difficult than any of my friends’ lives. It’s why I throw myself into my work now, so I never have to go without, and now with Lily in the picture, the pressure is on me more than ever.
"We’ll figure it out together," Rayna assures me, shifting closer. "We can set boundaries, find a balance that works. Lily needs you, but not just the version of you that works and provides. She needs the you that’s here now, sharing and being open."
"We're in this together," I repeat, the phrase feeling more meaningful now. "Thank you, Rayna, for listening, for... understanding."
She nods, her smile reassuring. "Always, Janta. Whatever comes, we'll handle it—as a team."
As the conversation deepens, our physical proximity increases. Before I know it, Rayna and I are side by side on the couch, our legs touching. The moment is charged as our eyes lock.
We lean in, both of us breathing heavily as our faces inch closer together. But just as our lips are about to meet, Lily stirs and cries. I reach a hand out to pull her in, but the spell is broken, and Rayna quickly moves to tend to Lily.
Sitting alone on the couch, the sudden quiet feels deafening after the intensity of the moment. My mind races, replaying the seconds before Lily's cry intervened. The warmth of Rayna's closeness lingers, and I'm left to grapple with the surge of emotions that had just surfaced.
I hear Rayna's soothing voice from Lily's room, a gentle murmuring that seems to calm the night once more. It's a stark reminder of our priorities, the reality that our roles as parents must often come before our own desires or needs.
As I wait, trying to collect my thoughts, I feel a mixture of relief and disappointment. Relief because the complexity of navigating a deeper relationship with Rayna while co-parenting is daunting.
Disappointment because the connection we were just discovering felt like something rare, something worth exploring. It dawns on me that I would have liked to kiss her. But where would that have led us?
When Rayna returns, her face is calm, the earlier moment of near-intimacy set aside. "She just needed a little comforting," she explains, sitting back down next to me, though this time with a slight, respectful distance between us.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean for things to... I didn't expect..." I start, unsure of how to articulate the whirlpool of feelings inside me.
"It's okay, Janta," Rayna interrupts, her voice gentle. "We got caught up in a moment. It happens. We're both just... there's a lot going on." Her words strike a chord of disappointment in me, but she’s right.
"Yes," I agree, nodding slowly. "There is. And maybe it’s not the right time for... anything more. Not when everything is so unsettled."
Rayna looks at me, her eyes understanding. "Let's just focus on Lily and getting through each day. We make a good team, don’t we?"
"We do," I confirm, a sense of solidarity building again. "And that's what's important right now. Lily needs us to be a team."
As we settle back into a comfortable silence, the earlier tension dissipates, replaced by a shared commitment to our daughter and to maintaining a stable environment for her.
The night continues, quieter now, as we both retreat into our own thoughts, the possibilities of what might have been folding away into the backdrop of our primary roles as parents.
Rayna eventually returns to her room, and I lie on the couch, staring at the ceiling, muscles tensed, mind racing. It's not like me to be this unsettled. I'm used to charging through problems, leading my company from one success to another with a fierce decisiveness. But this—these feelings for Rayna—they're not something I can bulldoze or strategize away.
Tonight changed something. Sitting so close to Rayna on the couch, feeling the warmth of her skin, almost kissing her—it stirred something deep inside me I can't just shove aside. It's both exhilarating and terrifying.
Excitement pulses through me at the thought of being more than just Lily's dad alongside Rayna. But there's a subtle fear too, a gnawing concern about what shifting our relationship could mean for our little girl.
I've always been direct, straightforward. Emotions, especially ones this complex, aren't my usual battleground. But here I am, in the dead of night, feeling like a novice, unsure of my next move. I can't deny what I felt tonight, the connection that seemed to reach beyond our co-parenting, beyond our shared responsibilities. It's more personal, more intimate.