Oghren had never given much thought to what he wanted from his time with Felsi. Sure, he wanted to grease up the old bronto and go to the races, and he wanted a woman who could give as good as she could get, but no one, no one was going to accuse old Oghren of undue sentimentality. Nug-headed loyalty, yes. Sentimentality? No.
So when Felsi dropped the news that there was a nugget on the way, his second most eloquent response was a slack-jawed stare. His third most eloquent response was, "Well I'll be dipped in sauce and thrown to the stalkers."
His most eloquent response was sticking around to watch her get big. He teased her about her waddle, asked her if she needed him to roll her from place to place like a boulder. He put up with the punches, the socks to the jaw, and the memorable occasion she had beaten him with his own codpiece after he had asked her if things ever went back to normal, you know, down there.
He also put up with the tears that made him squirm in his boots, the uncomfortable moments when she spun stories of the three of them in a house under the open sky, and the sound of her singing lullabies to the little creature that had taken up residence in her belly.
Something inside of him thought that maybe, just maybe, he could do this father thing.
Then he had seen the nugget and felt that strange emotion that made him feel like he would never be good enough for what he and Felsi had made.
Worse, he had seen the look in her eyes that said she was expecting him to try.
He packed his things that night.