Chapter 23 Bitsy
Bitsy hesitated on the threshold of the entrance, her fingers tightly interlaced with Wyatt’s. She felt small—smaller than she had in years—and the sheer openness of the room made her want to retreat back into the sanctuary of his shadow.
It was a sprawling, soft-carpeted space designed for anything but professional conduct.
Around the room, she saw oversized beanbags, low tables cluttered with art supplies, and corners cushioned with plush rugs.
Littles were everywhere—some sitting quietly with toys, others giggling in small groups, all under the watchful, indulgent eyes of their caregivers.
It was a world she hadn't known existed, and the sight of so many people living out the vulnerability she had only just started to embrace sent a tremor of shock through her chest.
Wyatt squeezed her hand, a firm, grounding pressure, and steered her into the room.
They navigated through the space toward Silas, who stood near a high-top table with another man.
Silas looked every bit the composed, commanding figure she knew from the office, but his posture was different—softer, more relaxed.
The man next to him was taller and broader, with an intense, watchful gaze that seemed to command the space around him.
"Wyatt," Silas said, nodding. He looked down at Bitsy, his expression shifting into something warmer, something that felt like a gentle instruction. "Hello, Bitsy. You look very comfortable tonight. I’m glad you could join us."
He spoke to her as if she were a child, his voice devoid of its usual sharp, administrative edge. It made her feel exposed, but in a way that wasn't threatening.
"This is Jackson," Silas added, gesturing to the other man.
Jackson stepped forward, his presence looming. Bitsy felt a spike of nerves and instinctively drifted a half-step behind Wyatt’s shoulder, using him as a shield.
"Nice to meet you, Bitsy," Jackson said, his voice a gravelly rumble. He didn't reach out to shake her hand, simply offering a polite, knowing nod instead.
Suddenly, a high-pitched, joyous squeal pierced the room. Bitsy startled, her breath hitching, as two girls sprinted toward them, waving wildly. Wyatt didn't even flinch, but Bitsy clung to the back of his shirt, never loosening her grip on his hand.
"It's Bitsy! It's Bitsy!"
Lennon stopped in front of them, beaming.
She was dressed in a vibrant pink tutu that puffed out around her waist over white leggings, and a sweatshirt that proudly declared Daddy’s Girl across the front.
Her hair was pulled into two high, perky ponytails adorned with massive pink bows that matched her sweater perfectly, and she wore shiny black Mary Jane shoes.
Beside her, the other girl stood just as excitedly.
She was equally bright, wearing a sunshine-yellow tutu that layered over opaque black tights.
Her sweater featured a large, smiling bumblebee that seemed to match the cheerful, gap-toothed grin she wore.
Her hair was a mop of dark, glossy curls pulled back with a simple yellow headband that tied her entire outfit together.
Bitsy suddenly felt acutely aware of her own outfit—the woodland mushroom leggings and her oversized forest green sweater.
Compared to the curated, colorful ensembles of the other two, she felt like she was wearing a costume, something that didn't quite belong.
A hot, stinging prickle of embarrassment flushed through her, making her cheeks burn.
"Running inside?" Silas asked, his voice dropping into a stern, lecture-ready tone. Beside him, Jackson’s expression darkened as he looked at the girl beside Lennon.
"I'm sorry, Daddy," Lennon squeaked, her face falling.
Without another word, Silas turned Lennon around.
Bitsy’s eyes went wide as she watched him pull the tutu up and deliver three sharp, stinging smacks to the back of her thighs.
Jackson followed suit with the other girl.
Both girls did a little, rhythmic "spanky dance" in place, wiggling and sniffing as they were scolded.
"We're sorry," both girls chorused, their voices wobbling.
Silas looked over at Wyatt, gesturing toward the play area. "Lennon, why don't you ask your friend if she’d like to join you?"
Lennon wiped her eyes, her sunny disposition returning in a heartbeat. She turned to Bitsy, her expression hopeful and bright as she tugged at her tutu. "Do you want to come play with us, Bitsy?”
Wyatt turned to Bitsy, his eyes softening. He squatted down until he was at her eye level, blocking the rest of the room from her view. "It’s safe here, Itsy-Bitsy. You’re among friends. I’m going to be right here, watching you the whole time. If you need me, you just look for me, okay?"
Bitsy hesitated, looking at Lennon, then back at Wyatt. The trust she felt for him was the only thing steadying her. Slowly, she eased her fingers from his, and Lennon immediately hooked her arm through Bitsy’s, pulling her toward the coloring station.
"I’m Penelope," the girl in yellow chirped, her dark curls bouncing as she tilted her head. "But you can call me Penny, because that's what all my friends call me."
"I'm Bitsy," she whispered, feeling like she was walking through a dream.
They sat on the floor near a low table. Lennon grabbed a box of crayons, meticulously selecting a bright red for her flower picture.
Penny hummed to herself as she began outlining a mermaid.
Bitsy pulled a sheet of paper toward her, finding a drawing of a bear that reminded her of the one she held.
As she started to color, the rhythmic motion helped soothe her frayed nerves.
"Do you like your Daddy?" Penny asked, coloring with focused intensity. "My Daddy is the best, even when he has to spank me."
Bitsy blinked, startled by the casual admission. "I... yes. He takes care of me. But it's all so new."
"It gets better," Lennon said, smiling. "It’s nice, having someone to take care of everything so you don't have to think about grown-up stuff. Are you going to be a part of our family now?"
"I hope so," Bitsy said, surprised by how much she meant it.
She kept glancing back at the group of men. Every time she looked, Wyatt was there. He wasn't talking much; he was watching her, his posture relaxed but his eyes never leaving her movements. When she caught his gaze, he gave her a small, encouraging smile that made her heart flutter.
She focused on her bear, using light browns and soft tans, pouring all her concentration into making it look loved. After a while, she held it up. "Look," she whispered.
"Oh my gosh!" Lennon gasped. "It looks just like yours! You're really good, Bitsy!"
"It's perfect," Penny added.
A surge of pride, warm and bubbly, rose in her chest. She had never really been praised for something so small, so inherently little. She looked down at the bear, the soft, earthy colors filling the lines perfectly, and felt a sudden, desperate need for Wyatt to see it.
"Let's show our Daddies!" Lennon declared, jumping up and grabbing Bitsy’s hand.
The three girls stood up, holding their pictures like treasures, and marched back toward the group of men. Hudson and Zane had arrived, their presence adding to the intimidating wall of Daddies. Lennon and Penny reached their Daddies first, holding their drawings up with loud, cheerful pride.
Bitsy hung back, clutching her picture. She felt shy suddenly, the weight of the moment pressing in. Wyatt stepped away from the group, meeting her halfway.
"Hey, Itsy-Bitsy," he said, his voice dropping into that private, velvet register. "What’s this?"
She held it out, her hand trembling slightly. "For you, Daddy."
Wyatt took it, studying the coloring with a level of seriousness that made her feel cherished. He knelt, taking her hand and pressing a kiss to her knuckles. "Thank you. It’s perfect. I’m going to keep this forever, you know."
She leaned into him, the warmth of his presence wrapping around her like a blanket. She was drifting deeper into the headspace, the world of deadlines and migrations feeling like a lifetime ago.
"Let's go play more," Lennon whispered, tugging on Bitsy’s sleeve. "We know where they keep the extra art supplies in the cupboard. If we're really fast, we can grab some glitter markers and stickers before they notice."
Bitsy didn't want to be a killjoy, or to look like the boring, grown-up addition to the group. She nodded, following the girls toward the back of the room where a supply cupboard sat slightly ajar. They began giggling, rummaging through the shelves, their voices rising in excitement.
Lennon giggled, her eyes lighting up with the thrill of the forbidden. "Help me pull these down," she whispered, tugging at the handle of a storage bin perched high on the top shelf.
Bitsy reached up, her fingers brushing the plastic.
Together, they gave a sharp, synchronized yank.
The bin didn't just slide out; it tipped.
A cascade of loose glitter, hundreds of tiny, jagged sequins, and rolls of vibrant construction paper tumbled out, creating a sparkling, neon-colored disaster that blanketed the pristine carpet.
Penny gasped, clapping her hands over her mouth, but the sound was drowned out as a bundle of craft supplies clattered loudly to the floor. The materials scattered everywhere, a chaotic sea of paper scraps and shimmering confetti covering the floor around them.
"Oh, no," Bitsy whispered, her stomach dropping.
She scrambled to help, but the more they tried to scoop up the mess, the more they just kicked it around, spreading it further across the previously spotless rug.
They were laughing—a frantic, high-pitched, nervous sound—as they tried to gather the piles of glitter and paper that seemed to multiply the more they touched them.
They were covered in it, their hair and sweaters catching the light.