"Extraordinary." He hands me a piece. "Taste."
The bread is everything I hoped with a crusty exterior giving way to soft, honeyed crumb. But watching Korgan watch me eat it adds something I can't quite name. Pride, maybe. Or satisfaction at sharing something he helped create.
"You're a natural," I tell him.
"I followed instructions."
"There's more to baking than that. You have to feel when the dough is right, trust your instincts about rising times, understand how ingredients work together." I take another piece. "You were gentle with it. Patient."
His ears darken, the orcish equivalent of a blush. "It seemed fragile. Worth handling carefully."
The metaphor isn't lost on either of us.
"I'm not fragile," I whisper.
"No. But you're worth being careful with anyway."
The kitchen suddenly feels too small, too warm. I busy myself wrapping the second loaf in a clean towel.
"What will you do with it?" he asks.
"Thought I'd save it. For later, when we need a reminder that today went well."
"Practical."
"Or sentimental. Depends on your perspective."
He helps me clean the kitchen in comfortable silence, our movements synchronized in a way that suggests we've done this a hundred times before instead of once. He washes, I dry. He scrubs the mixer bowl, I wipe down the counters. Somewhere inthe middle, his hand finds mine under the running water, and we stand there like idiots, fingers tangled in soap bubbles.
"I'm sorry," he says finally. "For what I said earlier. About you being a distraction."
"You weren't wrong."
"I was cruel. And a coward." He turns to face me fully. "I've spent years rebuilding my reputation, trying to prove orcs aren't the monsters humans think we are. When that video leaked, I panicked. All I could see was everything I've worked for collapsing."
"And blaming me seemed easier than facing the trolls together."
"Yes." The admission costs him. "But watching you tonight, seeing how you handled Webb and then turned this situation around..." He shakes his head. "You're braver than any soldier I've known."
"I'm terrified."
"That's what makes it brave."
I lean my forehead against his chest, feeling his heartbeat through the thin fabric of his shirt. "My loan officer emailed during the livestream. She wants a meeting tomorrow to 'discuss concerns about my public image.'"
His arms come around me, solid and sure. "What will you tell her?"
"The truth. That I'm exactly who I've always been, and if that's not good enough for the bank, I'll find another way."
"You could lose the bakery."
"I could lose you." The words slip out before I can stop them. "That seems worse."
He pulls back to look at me, amber eyes searching. "You barely know me."
"I know you're kind to people who don't expect it. I know you take dishwashing seriously because you believe in doing thingsright. I know you listen when people talk, really listen, instead of just waiting for your turn to speak." I reach up to trace the line of his jaw. "I know that when you hold me, I feel safer than I have in years. And I know that's worth fighting for."
"Trinity—"
