Page 13

BJ

Daddy and I had been together for a while now, and it was going great. Daddy. Gods, I loved the sound of that. The first time I said it, it had slipped out. And now that’s who he was, my daddy.

There were days when I woke up and wondered how this was in my life, how I could’ve found such an amazing daddy. And while it made no sense, it was starting to make me anxious. It was going too well. Too easy. Too safe.

Glenn gave me what I needed—attention, space, little time, big time, a listening ear, an amazing time when our mouths were doing things other than talking; name it and he gave it to me. That should’ve felt amazing. And it did. But it also scared the crap out of me.

We got along in the bedroom and out of the bedroom, too.

We could play together, soft and silly and sweet, when he was my daddy.

And we could be regular grown-ups going on errands or cleaning out Carrot’s space.

The man was a walking green flag. Kind, funny, considerate.

He let me be who I was, fully, without ever making me feel small—unless I wanted to feel little, but that was a different story.

This relationship was turning into everything I’d ever wanted.

And that terrified me.

“I don’t get it.” Derek handed me my coffee.

I led the way to one of the patio tables farthest from the street, ignoring his comment. The café was packed inside, the clouds looking like they would open up any minute. I’d rather chance the rain over hovering in the hopes of getting a table.

When we finally sat down, he repeated his statement. It looked like Derek wasn’t going to let it go. It was probably for the best because I did need to talk to him today before I let my brain get too far ahead of itself.

“What don’t you get?”

He raised an eyebrow. “You have a smoking-hot daddy who takes you nice places, treats you like a literal prince, lets you have your own life, and makes googly eyes at you like you’re a walking cupcake—and you’re here, with me, acting like you’re about to get evicted again.”

Whoa, Derek really did see everything.

“You’re being a tad over dramatic there, Derek.” Even if he was accurate.

“Nope,” he said. “Not over dramatic at all. Tell me I’m wrong, jackass.”

Of course, I couldn’t tell him he was wrong. He wasn’t.

I sighed. “Fine. Maybe I’m messed up. Or overthinking things. Or both.”

He sipped his coffee and waited.

“Have you ever been in a relationship that was just…too good?”

“There’s no such thing.” He set his cup down. “If anything, all relationships can be improved.”

“True, but also…it’s like… I keep thinking any day now, something’s going to happen. And I’m going to be left alone, trying to scoop up the pieces of my heart from the floor with a dustpan.

He paused, leaned back, and blinked. “Okay. Shall we circle back to your over-dramatic comment from earlier?”

I groaned. “Don’t start.”

“I mean, you’re practically halfway through the script of a Lifetime movie right now.”

I wanted to argue that I wasn’t, that they didn’t do kink movies, but that would further this conversation not at all. “You’re such a jerk.”

“A jerk who’s right. You’re scared, and I get that. It’s normal. You’ve had a rough history. But if you’re always waiting for the sky to fall, you’re going to miss the sunshine and will manifest the sky actually falling.”

I frowned. “That sounded weirdly poetic and also creepy.”

“Thank you, I’m very wise.” He mouthed, “And not at all creepy.”

“Wrong.”

“Right.” He stuck his tongue out. “You know what you need to do, right?”

“What?”

“Talk to Glenn. You need to tell him how you feel.” Stupid, valid advice.

“What if he thinks I’m clingy or messed up or—”

“Then he’s not your daddy.”

That shut me up.

“Look,” he went on, “I’m not saying it won’t be scary.

But, right now, you’re spiraling in your own head, and you’re already starting to pull away.

This”—he circled the air in front of me with his finger—“this isn’t it.

If you keep living like the breakup has already happened, you’re gonna create the thing you’re afraid of. That’s self-sabotage, babe.”

I groaned. “I hate that you’re right.”

“I know. It’s exhausting, being this brilliant.”

I threw a napkin at him.

Still, I took his advice. After our coffee outing, I texted Glenn. Want to come over for dinner?

Wouldn’t miss it. With a smiley emoji.

That little emoji made me feel like I could breathe again.

I didn’t want to make anything fancy—just something easy and quick, so we’d have time to talk. I settled on a shrimp and pasta dish I could throw together in under thirty minutes. Simple. Comforting. Delicious. Just like him.

He arrived just as I was pulling the shrimp from the fridge, and dinner was on the table in ten minutes flat.

“You have to at least let me do the dishes,” he said, taking another bite. “This is delicious. Like, unfairly good. You can’t be doing all the work.”

“There’s one pan,” I pointed out. “One bowl. One spatula. It’s hardly a disaster of a kitchen.” I didn’t get into the fact that he was usually the one taking on “all the work” when it came to meal time. He loved feeding me, and I loved being fed.

“Still…”

“I’m just going to throw them all in the dishwasher anyway.”

“I could be your dishwasher.” He grinned.

“Fine,” I relented, trying to pout and failing.

“You invited me for dinner, and I’m eating it. That’s the deal.”

“And what does Stu think?” I asked, nodding toward my cactus on the windowsill.

“Stu agrees with me,” he said solemnly, raising his glass. “Great dinner, great company, I’ll take the dishes, and I will call this date a success.”

Gods, I loved how he treated Stu like a real guest. Like a little part of me he respected instead of something weird or childish and very not human.

Afterward, we curled up on the couch with some movie neither of us cared about. It was more background noise than anything, and I kept glancing sideways at him, trying to work up the nerve to say something.

“Are you feeling okay, sweet boy?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. It’s just…”

I shifted, turned toward him, sat cross-legged on the couch. “There’s something we need to talk about.”

His brows lifted slightly. “Okay. I’m listening.”

“This is gonna make me sound ungrateful or…needy or something, but…I like you.”

He smiled. “I’m still waiting for the downside here.”

“I mean, I really like you. Like, full stop like you. And I’m scared.”

I took a deep breath.

“Every time I open myself up, it backfires. And it’s not that I think you’re going to hurt me, but I’m scared you could. I’m scared of how much I want this and how much it will destroy me.” I didn’t simply open the door to a discussion. Nope. I ripped that door off.

He didn’t rush in with reassurances. He just listened. And then he took my hands in his.

“I’m never going to promise you that life won’t hurt you,” he said. “Even the people who love us the most can cause pain. Not because they want to. Not because they mean to. But because…life happens. And people aren’t perfect.”

I nodded. My throat was tight.

“But I can promise you this”—he brought my hands up to his mouth and kissed each—“I love you.”

I froze.

“You…what?”

“I love you,” he said again, forehead resting against mine. “You’re kind of impossible not to love.”

Tears pricked the corners of my eyes, but not sad tears. Quite the opposite. “I love you, too, Daddy.”

I climbed into his lap, tucked my head beneath his chin, and held on like I meant it. Because I did.

“I’m gonna try,” I whispered. “Try not to let my past dictate my future. I know you’re not like them. You’re not like my family. Not like the ones who left. You’re Glenn. And that’s the man I fell in love with.”

He kissed the top of my head.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he promised.

And, this time, I let myself believe it.