Chapter 14 #2
“Of course, sweetheart. Both of them are. You get to be whoever you want, whenever you want.” I tried to keep my voice steady. “And I want every side of you. The sweet, soft, silly one, and the one who’s all grown up and knows what she wants from her man.”
She hugged the pajamas to her chest, but her eyes wouldn’t leave the black lace.
“You can try them on now, or later. Or not at all. I just wanted you to know there’s nothing about you I don’t want.
” I reached over, gentle, and squeezed her hand.
“If you’re ever ready for more I’ll be here.
” But I had to add more. “When you kissed me the other night you have no idea how close you were to being pressed up against the door and taken right there and then.”
She stared at me with wide eyes.
“I panicked because I was terrified you thought you were obligated. This is my way of saying I want all of you. The woman, the Little…the amazing cookie maker.”
Her lower lip trembled. “I don’t know if I’ll be good at it.”
I let out a breath. “There’s no wrong way, Holly. All you have to do is tell me what you want.”
She nodded, fast, and I could see she was fighting tears. She blinked them away and managed a smile that just about killed me.
“I want to try the pajamas,” she whispered.
“Go for it.” I grinned, but didn’t push. “Bathroom’s all yours. I’ll tidy up here.”
She slipped away, clutching the pajamas and blanket both, and I let my head fall back against the couch. I was sweating. Actually sweating. I’d survived losing both my parents, two tours, and a near-death in a demolition, but buying pajamas for Holly made me feel like a kid on his first date.
Or what could have been my last.
Biscuit thumped his tail, watching the hallway.
When she came back, the world stopped.
The teddy pajamas were adorable. But the way she stood there, one hand tangled in her curls, face flushed and eyes shining, made her look beautiful. And even better, she was clutching Banjo.
For a second, I couldn’t even talk. I knew she’d been nervous, but the way she stood there, holding her arms, pajama bottoms too long for her and the shirt nearly down to her knees, eyes wide and lips trembling…fuck.
I patted the couch again, and this time she moved. Sat next to me, knees drawn up, toes peeking out from the hem. She stared at the floor.
“You look perfect,” I promised, because I meant it.
Her head jerked up. “I do?”
I nodded. “Yeah, baby-girl. You look adorable. But more than that, you look happy.” I watched the color climb higher in her cheeks. There was no way she could hide it, and she wasn’t even trying.
She hugged Banjo to her chest and let out this shaky breath, like she’d been waiting to be told it was okay. “They’re really soft. I’ve never had pajamas like this.”
I wanted to say a thousand things, but I kept it simple. “You deserve them. All the soft things. All the comfort.”
Her eyes went damp, but she blinked quick, refusing to let the tears fall. “Thank you, Blake.”
I tipped my head to one side. “Is that really what you want to call me?”
Her breath hitched and I knew she understood immediately.
“Thank you, Daddy.” I opened my arms and she flew into them.
“You never have to thank me for wanting to take care of you,” I promised, clutching her tight because I was never going to let her go.
“If you want to try the other one, later,” I kept my voice low, “the black one, you can. Or you can wear these forever. Either way, you’re perfect to me.”
She swallowed, and her fingers twisted in the pajama top. “Could I maybe have some cocoa?”
The question nearly broke me. I’d been waiting for her to ask for something. Anything.
“Of course,” I said, and got up before she could change her mind. “You want marshmallows?”
She nodded, fast, and I heard her giggle as Biscuit followed me into the kitchen and I quickly let him out.
I made the cocoa extra sweet and added three big marshmallows on top before he came back.
When I carried them through, she was curled up under the blanket, Banjo wedged under her chin. Biscuit sighed and hogged the fire.
She took the mug in both hands, careful, and sipped. Her whole body relaxed. I watched her for a minute, soaking in the sight of her safe and warm and finally letting herself enjoy something just for her.
After a while she eyed the unopened box with the dollhouse, then tipping her chin up as if she’d made a decision, she slid onto the floor and pulled the box close to her.
She peeled the tape with both hands, lips pressed tight.
I could see her shaking a little, but she kept going.
When the lid came off, she just stared. The dollhouse was all pastel blue and pink with neat windows and tiny white shutters.
She touched the outside of the box like she was afraid it would vanish, then glanced up at me, eyes shining.
“I might need help.” Her voice was barely a whisper.
“Of course, baby,” I said, and patted the rug. “Let’s open it together.”
She sat cross-legged, pajamas bunched at her knees, and pulled the whole thing out, spreading the pieces on the rug. Biscuit stirred, tail thumping, but didn’t get in the way. She lined up the tiny chairs and beds and just stared, like she’d never seen anything so perfect.
I didn’t rush her. I just watched as she opened every bag, shaking out the plastic bits, sorting them into piles. Every few seconds, she checked my face, maybe to see if I was bored or annoyed, but I just grinned at her and handed her the next thing she needed.
It took nearly an hour to set it up. She was careful, so careful, and every time she snapped a piece in place she smiled a little more. By the time she put the last chair at the kitchen table, her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were bright.
I leaned back against the couch. “You did a good job, sweetheart.”
She ducked her head, but I could tell she was proud. “It’s really pretty.”
“I like it,” I said honestly. “You can leave it out if you want.”
Her eyes flicked to mine. “Really? It’s not messy?”
I shook my head. “Nope. I like seeing your stuff around. Makes it feel like home.”
She went quiet, staring at the dollhouse. Her fingers hovered over the tiny bed, then she picked up one of the dolls and tucked it under the covers. She did the same for the rest, lining them up, making sure they were all cozy.
My chest hurt in a way I couldn’t explain. All that care, all that worry over something so small. Like if she could get it right here, maybe the rest would fall into place.
“You want to show me how it works?” I asked, hoping she’d say yes.
She nodded and scooted closer, pointing out every oom. “This one’s the kitchen. And rthat’s the bedroom. There’s even a bathtub.”
She glanced up, waiting to see if I’d laugh, but I just smiled. “Looks perfect.”
She smiled then, really smiled, and it was worth every penny.
Later, after she’d played a while, and after I’d made some sandwiches for both of us, she curled up on the couch next to me, still in her pajamas, and now with the socks I'd gotten her and solemnly put on. Banjo was tucked under her chin. The dollhouse sat on the coffee table, all set up. She’d even put one of the bears inside, like he lived there too.
I wrapped an arm around her, pulled her close, and she melted into me. Biscuit lay at our feet, snoring.
“You did good today,” I murmured. “I’m proud of you.”
After a while, she yawned and let her head fall onto my shoulder. I wrapped my arm around her and pulled her closer, and she didn’t even hesitate.
“Are you tired?” I whispered.
She nodded, but didn’t move. “Can Banjo sleep in your room too?”
“Banjo can sleep wherever you want, baby-girl.”
She squeezed my hand. I could feel her trembling, but it wasn’t fear. “Can I get ready for bed in your bedroom Daddy?”
“Of course,” I brushed a kiss on her lips. “I’ll take Biscuit out a last time and make sure we’re all locked up tight. Do you promise to ask if you need help?”
She nodded and practically skipped to the door, then paused. “Daddy?”
She could call me that a million times and it would never fail to stop my heart. “Yes, baby-girl?”
“Don’t forget to leave some cookies out for Santa, and a carrot for Rudolph.”
Yep, stopped. I was gonna die of happiness. Biscuit might need to be trained in CPR.