Chapter Sixteen
Nico
When Pax had to leave after Christmas, I cried.
I tried not to. I told him I’d be brave, I’d be strong, but he wasn’t even on the main road and the tears were already shedding.
I hugged Oscar close that night, and the next night, and the next.
I hated the part of me that feared once he left and got back to his real life, he’d change his mind and not want to be here.
He’d discover he wanted to be in the city where things were convenient and local.
And then, the very next weekend, he came back.
And the weekend after that, and the one after that.
Each time, I worried less and less because I saw that, yes, we were going to be able to do this.
It took a while for him to switch jobs, settle things with his apartment, and move in, and all of that.
When he did, everything clicked into place.
Initially, his office was the dining room table, as I continued working on fixing up the cabins. But, eventually, the work was done, and we moved his office into a larger space…one that didn’t have a leaky roof, the electricity worked, and it was painted.
Pax liked his new job. He didn’t love that it paid less than his last one, but there were so many benefits, it didn’t matter. He was with me, and it wasn’t like he was paying city rent anymore, which was astronomical for what he got. It all evened out.
But best of all was his commute…thirty-six steps. He counted. And sometimes he had to work a little late, but there were far more times when he could take extended lunches or enjoy a leisurely morning.
As I started to get bookings for the retreats, he was able to work side by side with me, organizing and getting things ready.
In the beginning, it was more than that, but now that we had consistent bookings, I hired some local part-time help to assist with the cleaning and food prep, and it made it a lot easier.
I cracked the oven to check on the lasagna. It was looking pretty good, probably about twenty minutes and it would be done. I walked the thirty-six steps to Daddy. More than that, really, because I was going from the kitchen, but I always thought about those steps and how he’d counted that day.
“Daddy, dinner’s gonna be in about twenty minutes, but it can hold if you have to work.”
“Nope, perfect timing,” he said, shutting his laptop and approaching me. “I thought I was cooking tonight.”
“You were going to, but I got done early, so you’re just gonna have to put up with my lasagna.” He never turned down my specialty.
“Lasagna!” He kissed me. His excitement didn’t surprise me at all because it was his favorite. “Why are you spoiling me so much? It’s my job to spoil you.”
“Who said I’m spoiling you? Maybe I want to eat lasagna tonight. Or maybe there’s no one here for three days.”
“My sweet boy had a plan.”
“A possible plan.” If Pax had something on his mind, we could do that, too. As long as we were together. “I thought we should have a nice meal, some smexy after-dinner together time, and then tomorrow…tomorrow, we could have a little day.”
“I love everything about that.”
That was the one thing about renting this place out that had been rougher on me than I realized it would.
There were always people around, and I was always on call.
I didn’t mind, but there were sacrifices that came with that, and one of them was that I wasn’t as able to express my little side as fully as I wanted to.
So on days like this, we tried to take full advantage.
We ate dinner, spent the night in each other’s arms, and then the next morning when I woke up, I stayed in bed, holding Oscar close and waiting for Daddy to wake me up.
That was our routine on little days. He’d come in and let me know it was time to get ready for breakfast. Then, after a quick trip to the bathroom, we would eat together. Today was no exception.
“Tubby time?” Daddy asked when my belly was full and the dishes clean.
“My favorite time of day.” At least now it was.
The bathroom had not been great when I moved in here. The tub was a glorified shower, the water pressure mediocre at best. I had fixed by someone else, because I loved a good bath and it would have taken a lot longer to do it myself.
Daddy set the water temperature, put the bath bomb on the side of the tub, then helped me get undressed.
“Duckies, animals, or boats?” Animals were separate because they were squeeze toys and sprayed water across the room if I wasn’t careful, whereas the rubber duckies were just rubber duckies.
“Could I have all of them, Daddy?”
“You can have whatever you want.”
He turned off the water, and I kneeled by the side of the tub. “Is it time? Is it time? Is it time?”
“It’s time.” He ruffled my hair. “Go ahead.”
I picked up the bath bomb and tossed it in with a plop.
It was blue and sparkly, and as it fizzled, a treasure was about to be revealed.
I wasn’t sure where Daddy found them, but these bath bombs not only made the water super soft against my skin and prevented me from drying out if I stayed in too long, but inside of them was always a toy capsule.
I reached in to grab it, only to discover it was still fizzing away.
“You have to be patient.” He ruffled my hair again, and I leaned into his touch.
“I’m not patient! I want my prize.” I pouted.
“Why don’t you count to five and try again?”
I did, counting loudly, and, when I reached in this time, it was just the capsule.
“Open it.” I held it out to him, and he squeezed the capsule.
This time, instead of being a little figurine like normal, it was a ring. But not like an engagement ring. It was too big for that, and Daddy was great about details. This ring would slide right off my ring finger.
Suddenly I wasn’t so little anymore. There were times that would bother me, but this wasn’t one of them. I had a ring in my hand, given to me by my daddy. Conversations needed to be had so there was no confusion on either of our parts about what this meant.
“What is this, Pax? It’s not like one of those jewelry bomb things, right?” It hadn’t been wrapped in foil, so that had been my assumption, but I wanted to make sure.
“No, it’s not like that at all. I had it made for you.”
“What finger is it for?”
He pulled his hand out of his pocket and showed me his. It was on his pointer finger. “This one.”
“What does it mean?” I wasn’t trying to be curt, but I was on the cusp of being overwhelmed and it was the best I could do.
“I’m doing this so wrong.” He kneeled down beside me.
“I saw a couple of daddies that share these with their littles. They’re…
They call them ‘Daddy and Me’ rings, but they’re technically couple rings.
One day, I’d like to put a ring on your hand—on this finger”—he tapped the third finger on my left hand—“but I promise you, I will not give you that while we’re taking a tub.
Imagine telling that story to my mother. ”
I had to laugh because I could imagine it, and it would be hilarious. Not that I wanted to test that theory. “I think she would like it. Put it on me.”
He slid it on.
“Now I want to go in the tubby.” I wasn’t back to a little space yet, but I wanted to be. I had my Daddy and Me ring on, and it was time to be taken care of. I stood up, and he helped me in and then dumped in the bucket of toys he’d dug out for me.
“Who do you want to play with?” I held up both an alligator and a swan, not at all remotely the same, but they were the first toys I reached.
“I’ll be the alligator.” He took it from my hand and started making noises I suspect he thought were an alligator’s but sounded more like grunts, and had it climbing up my arm.
“Daddy, that tickles!” I giggled.
“Did you want me to stop?”
“No, Daddy, keep going! I want to play until my fingers look like raisins.”
And we did.
It was the first activity of a very long day of Daddy and Me time, and a glimpse I caught of my ring reminded me that he chose me and this life. How did I get so lucky?