"The confirmation came through this morning. Jennifer is pregnant," Elga adds, her burnt-orange eyes bright with unshed tears. "We've been quietly thrilled all day, but we wanted to tell you in person."
I'm already reaching across the table to squeeze Jennifer's hand, my heart swelling with joy for them. "Oh my God, this is incredible! How are you feeling? When are you due?"
"Late summer." Jennifer laughs, wiping at her eyes. "We went to a clinic in Portland, found an ogre donor, and voila! Everything looks perfect so far."
Darhg leans forward, his expression tender as he looks at his oldest friend. "Congratulations, Elga. You're going to be an amazing mother."
"We both are," Elga corrects, squeezing Jennifer's hand. "Though I suspect this little one is going to have me wrapped around their tiny finger from day one."
The warmth of happiness fills the space between us and I feel giddy and lightheaded. This is what home feels like, I realize. Honest conversation over a home-cooked meal, friends who choose to love each other, the security of being surrounded by people who see you clearly and want you anyway.
Elga clears her throat, her gaze moving between Darhg and me with something that looks like nervous excitement. "Actually, there's something else we wanted to ask."
She squeezes Jennifer's hand, casts her a long, adoring glance, then looks back between Darhg and me. "We'd like you both to be godparents. If you're willing."
"Yes," I answer immediately, my voice wobbling with emotion. "Of course, yes!"
Darhg nods solemnly, his amber eyes serious as he meets Elga's gaze. "You can count on us. Always."
The weight and honor of being chosen settles in my stomach like a warm stone. These women, who've known Darhg since childhood and welcomed me without question, want us to help raise their child. Want us to be part of their family in the most fundamental way.
"I'll paint a nursery mural," I promise, already envisioning soft watercolor animals dancing across clean white walls. "And handle all the midnight craving runs. Whatever you need."
"I'll build the crib," Darhg volunteers, his voice rough with emotion. "Changing table, shelves—everything overbuilt to ogre standards so it'll last forever."
"Shortbread will be godparent fuel," Elga declares with a watery laugh. "I'll keep you both properly fed."
"This baby is going to learn kindness and stubbornness from the best," Jennifer adds, her smile radiant as she looks around the table. "We're thinking of having a small shower at Monster Heart Florals in the spring, maybe when the peonies start blooming."
We spend the next hour planning, discussing baby names and where furniture will fit in their cozy apartment above the shop, debating the merits of various stroller options and cloth versus disposable diapers. The conversation flows like honey, sweet and golden in the candlelight.
The clink of cutlery against ceramic plates creates a gentle percussion beneath our voices. The candles gutter lower as we talk, casting shifting shadows that make the cabin feel even more intimate. Snow continues hushing against the windows like a lullaby, and Darhg's hand finds my knee under the table, his palm settling there, warm and strong.
This is what I was missing my entire life, I realize. Not luxury or status or carefully managed appearances, but this sense of belonging. Of being seen and chosen and loved for exactly who I am.
The muted television in the corner catches my attention with an "Asterion Under Fire" chyron scrolling across the bottom of the screen. I watch clips of Cassius Roarke walking into his glass tower, surrounded by reporters shouting questions about the looming civil suit and market instability. The side panel shows Asterion shares in freefall, down sixty percent since Mom's committee began its investigation.
"Any updates on your situation?" Jennifer asks quietly, following my gaze to the screen.
"Caroline's facing serious jail time," I confirm, feeling oddly detached from the whole mess now. "Mom says the prosecutoris confident about the charges sticking. Corporate espionage, identity theft, cyberstalking—she's looking at years."
Darhg's rumble vibrates through his chest where my shoulder rests against his arm. "It isn't nearly enough punishment for what she put you through."
I consider this, watching Cassius Roarke's carefully composed face on TV as he refuses to answer questions. A month ago, the sight of him would have filled me with anxiety and anger. Now I feel something closer to pity. All that power, all that money, and he's still just a man who chose cruelty over kindness.
"Maybe not," I say finally. "But it's enough for me to let go and focus forward."
And I mean it. The past is behind us now—the scandal, the betrayal, the fear. What matters is this table, these friends, this man beside me who sees all my dreams as worth pursuing.
"Speaking of focusing forward," I continue, setting down my fork and looking around the table, "I have an announcement of my own."
Darhg's hand tightens slightly on my knee, and I cover it with mine, drawing strength from his steady presence.
"I enrolled in community college," I say, the words feeling strange and wonderful on my tongue. "Fine arts program. I start in the spring."
Elga's whoop of excitement nearly rattles the windows. "That's incredible! Oh, Rona, you're going to love it. ProfessorMartinez teaches the advanced watercolor class. She's brilliant. And I can offer you a corner of the shop for sketching," she continues, her enthusiasm infectious. "Natural light, beautiful subjects, and I'll keep you supplied with coffee and cookies."
I look at Darhg, searching his face for any sign of concern. Instead, I find nothing but pride and fierce support shining in his amber eyes. The feeling of finally claiming my own path, of choosing what I want instead of what's expected, fills my chest with something that might be joy. For the first time in my life, I'm not trying to be anyone but myself.
