Page 54 of First Comes Orc, Second Comes Baby
Snowkiss, right on cue, yipped and ran towards them.
“Why again is there an animal in the house, Brahnt?” Regine said.
Samesh exclaimed. “She's so cute. Come here, good boy.”
“She's a girl,” Charlotte said.
“And the prettiest little princess you are,” Samesh said, settling the dog into his lap.
“Really, Sammie?” Regine said. “Next you’re going to ask me to buy you a hamster. Or a goldfish.”
“Neither is necessary if you’re looking for something small and cute to hold,” Brahnt said in an inflectionless tone, “since you’ll soon be grandparents.”
All hell broke loose.
Charlotte sipped her lemonade and let Samesh clutch her dog.
“She’s an emotional support puppy,” she murmured to Samesh. “She’s used to being squeezed.”
* * *
Regine did not, in fact, have a heart attack—Charlotte watched with compounding interest—but she did summon Alicia to bring her strong drink, though Samesh disapproved. A bottle, though Regine managed to pour it into glasses rather than drain it right from the source.
“You get the puffy white rat,” Regine snarled, “I get bourbon. We each cope with devastating disappointment in our own ways.”
Charlotte did sympathize with Regine’s apoplexy though. After all, Charlotte was basically every cliché of a poor kid from a broken home, with the requisite trauma. Her intentions were mostly pure—with a liberal dash of healthy money grubbing. After all, could you reallyreallyhave a long term, healthy, successful relationship if Maslow’s Hierarchy wasn't taken care of? Charlotte didn't consider it gold digging, she considered it strategic mate selection.
But, in the end, though she didn't mind spending Brahnt’s money in reasonable amounts, it wasn't like she wanted to take anything she hadn’t earned. So she put Regine out of her misery.
“I’ll sign a prenup,” Charlotte said. “I don't mind. If it will make everyone feel more secure about the marriage. As long as financial provisions are made for any children we have.”
“We don't need a prenup,” Brahnt snapped.
“Shut up,” Regine said, lifting a hand—the one not holding the bourbon. She pinned Charlotte with a look, ignoring the aghast look her husband was directing at her. “My lawyer can draw papers up by tomorrow. You'll sign?”
Charlotte nodded. “But it needs to be reasonable. In case we divorce—”
“You're funny,” Brahnt said. “Legal onlytwogenerations, Charlotte.”
“—and if at the time of divorce I've been a stay-at-home parent for years, it might be difficult for me to find gainful employment right away.” Charlotte felt her expression settle into stubborn lines. “I plan on having my own thing that brings in income during the marriage, and I plan on going back to work once the baby is old enough. But I'm entitled to protect myself and to recognize the value of labor done in the marital home.”
“It's reasonable, Reggie,” Samesh said. “She's giving us our first grandchild and providing Brahnt with stability so he can stop messing with those females from the Orc/Human bdsm club—please, son, you thought we didn’t know about that? It's not as if we can't afford to make the standard financial provisions. They’re getting respectably married, not shacking up.”
“I have no intention of depriving any female what is rightfully due her,” Regine said. “I simply want some assurances. She doesn’t come from any of the Human families that understand how things are done among Orcs.”
“Things?” Charlotte echoed.
“There is no divorce,” Brahnt said.
“But. . .but what if you fall out of love? Or the husband is abusive.”
“Abusive?” Regine gave Samesh a look as if to say “I told you so”. “There is no such thing. We would never allow a husband to abuse his wife. Or vice versa. As for the other—don’t fall out of love. Grow up instead.”
“I’ll need to call Aunt Ati. She does all the wedding planning in the family.” Samesh gave Charlotte a sweet, easy smile. “You don’t mind a traditional Punjabi celebration do you, Charlotte? It’s where my clan originally hails from.”
Charlotte knew what the correct response was, and gave it. “I would adore a traditional celebration. Can I choose my—”
“Aunt Ati won’t let you.”
