They shake. Dad winces slightly.
"Good grip," he says, impressed. "Heard you're handy with repairs."
"Some."
"Bakery oven's been temperamental. Think you can take a look?"
"Dad, he just got here?—"
"I'd be happy to." Korgan's already moving toward the building, suddenly animated. "What's the issue?"
"Temperature spikes, uneven heating, ornery as hell."
"Show me."
They disappear inside, talking heat distribution and airflow.
Mom links her arm through mine. "I like him."
"You cried on him within ninety seconds."
"Happy tears. He handled it well." She squeezes. "You look good, baby. Really good."
"Yeah?"
"Loved-up good." Her eyes twinkle. "The kind of good that comes from excellent?—"
"Mom."
"—partnership and emotional support."
"Sure. That."
She laughs, tugs me toward the house. "Come on. Shelly's inside with interrogation questions and wine."
Dinner is chaos.
Aunt Shelly asks if orc anatomy isproportionalbefore appetizers hit the table. Dad challenges Korgan to arm-wrestling over dessert. Mom keeps trying to feed him thirds despite his protests.
Korgan handles it with patient bemusement.
"Your aunt is subtle," he murmurs when Shelly leaves to grab more wine.
"Shelly doesn't do subtle."
"Noted when she asked about our mating rituals."
"She askedwhat?"
"During the oven repair. Very detailed questions."
I drop my head into my hands. "I'm so sorry."
"Don't be." He sounds amused. "She's protective. Making sure you're cared for."
"By asking about?—"
"She loves you." He touches my knee under the table. "I respect that."
