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twenty-eight

Lane

The holiday season is way too goddamn busy.

I’ve only been able to see Olive twice since our date, and one of those times was at a ballet lesson. Since this week is Christmas, the studio is closed, which means Sage didn’t get to dance on Tuesday, and we didn’t see our favorite ballerina.

I don’t mind, though. January always brings less chaos, so I know I’ll soon be able to spend more time with my two favorite girls.

I miraculously wake up before Sage, so I have time to do my morning routine.

I take a quick shower, brush my teeth, and get dressed.

Since today is Christmas and we’re not going anywhere, I throw on the pajamas I got myself that match Sage’s.

Buffalo plaid bottoms with a long-sleeved black top.

Mine says Daddy, and Sage’s says Daughter.

I’m absolutely that dad.

Sage runs into my room the moment I finish pulling on a pair of black socks. “Daddy! Santa come?”

I smile wide and scoop my daughter off the floor. “I don’t know, Lovebug. Should we go check?”

“Yes!” she shouts, happily bouncing in my arms before pointing at the door. “Daddy, go!”

I laugh as I carry her out to the living room, and Sage lights up the moment she sees all the presents by the tree.

“Santa come!”

“You must have been a very nice girl this year, Sagie.”

She squirms to get out of my arms, so I let her down before she falls. As soon as her feet hit the floor, she runs to the tree, excitedly jumping in front of it.

Sage is patient just long enough to let me grab a cup of coffee, but then she drags me over to sit with her while she rips off all the wrapping paper I spent far too long putting on.

I help her through some of it—she’s two, so she loses focus easily. But each time something new is opened, her happiness radiates, permeating the air until it’s all you can feel.

I loved Christmas when I was a kid, but it’s one hundred times better as a parent. Nothing beats seeing genuine joy on your child’s face.

When everything is unwrapped, we spend the next several hours playing with dolls and dinosaurs, reading books, and throwing her new tea party boas around our necks.

Sage goes down for her nap in the afternoon, and I use that time to clean up the mess from the morning. All the random bits of wrapping paper and plastic packaging no longer dot my living room floor. Now it looks a little less like a feral toddler lives here.

You can still tell a toddler lives here; you just can’t tell that she’s feral.

I grab myself another mug of coffee since I’m a caffeine addict, and I flop onto my sofa, leaning back and watching the greatest Christmas movie ever— Elf.

I make it to the spaghetti breakfast scene when my phone vibrates. I grab it from the table and smile, seeing a text from Liv.

Olive

Merry Christmas, Lane

Lane

Merry Christmas, Olive

How has your day been?

Olive

It’s been really nice

Chaotic, but nice

What about you?

Lane

Relaxing as hell

It’s just Sage and me today

She opened her gifts, and we played all morning

She’s down for her nap now

Olive

I bet she was on the Nice List

Lane

If all the boxes around my tree this morning are any indication, she absolutely was

Olive

Got any plans the rest of the night?

Lane

I’m making macaroni and cheese for dinner per a certain toddler’s request

Other than that, we’re just gonna hang out around here

Olive

Would it be alright if I came over later?

Lane

Ballerina, you never have to ask

You’re always welcome here

Olive

I’ll be over around seven, then

Lane

Can’t wait to see you

“Hey, Ballerina,” I smile, watching as Olive steps inside off the elevator. I glance to the living room quickly to see that Sage is still playing with her baby doll before giving Liv a soft kiss. “I’m glad you came over.”

Her smile is so bright. “I am, too. I’ve missed you both.”

“We’re very missable,” I smirk, leaning back against the wall with my arms crossed in front of me.

“Such an ego,” she laughs as she drops her overnight bag to the floor. Hoping I still get to see her in one of my shirts even though she brought her own clothing this time.

“Owive!” Sage runs out to us now that she’s finally noticed our visitor. “Mewwy Cwismas!”

Olive crouches down and gets closer to Sage’s level. “Merry Christmas to you, sweet girl! I bet you had the best day!”

“Yes!” Sage grabs Olive’s hand now and starts pulling her. “See my toys!”

Liv only grins wider as she follows my daughter into the living room, listening to her explain in every toddler detail what she got today. She helps her stack her new set of wooden blocks into a tower for Sage to knock down, which she was obviously more than happy to do.

After a few glasses of hot chocolate that will no doubt give us stomachaches from the amount of sugar, it’s time for Sage to get to bed. Olive mostly just watches us do our bedtime routine, but she does get the honor of reading The Polar Express at Sage’s request.

Since Sage is good at falling asleep on her own now, we tuck her into bed and then head back out to the living room, where Olive now sits next to me on the sofa.

“You know, I forgot to comment on your pajamas when I walked in.”

“Looks good, right?” I smirk, gesturing to my body.

She flushes slightly as her eyes rake over me before she replies. “Yeah, they’re cute. I love that you did matching pajamas with Sage.”

“Do it every year,” I grin.

“That’s so adorable.” Olive’s smile is so sweet and tender that I can’t help but lean over and kiss the hell out of her.

“I’m so fucking happy you came over,” I murmur against her lips. “I’ve been dying to kiss you since you left here on Friday.”

“I’ve been wanting to kiss you, too,” she breathes, and warmth courses through me at her admission.

“Look at you saying what you’re thinking, baby.”

“I’ve been working on that. Trying to get better about it.”

“Anything I can do to help?”

I look into her eyes and see a look I’ve seen plenty in my life but never on Olive— desire.

“Yeah,” she whispers. “I think there is.”

I reply to her cautiously. “What are you thinking, Liv?”

She lets out a shaky breath, clearly uncomfortable but pushing herself through it.

“You know what I’ve been through, so it shouldn’t be a surprise that I struggle with the idea of sex.

Because of that, I’ve missed out on a lot of…

experiences.” My eyes are wide as I listen to see where this is going.

Olive sighs. “What I’m saying is that I’m so sexually repressed that I can’t even get myself off. ”

“Oh,” I cough. “How, uh… am I supposed to help with that?”

Her eyes are pleading. “Can you… teach me? I clearly have no idea what I’m doing, but if anything ever happens between us, I want it to be good for you. As of right now, there’s no chance it would be.”

My brain short circuits for a moment, absorbing what she just said. I have to subtly adjust myself as well because my dick came to life as soon as Liv said sex.

“Olive,” I stammer. “I’m not going to teach you to be good for me.”

“Oh God,” she cries, throwing her hands over her face. “I’m so sorry I ask—”

I put my hand up to stop her. “Hang on. What I meant is the only person you need to be good for is yourself.” I let out an uneasy breath. “I can teach you how to take care of yourself.”

“Oh. Um, okay.”

Is this actually happening? Did the woman I’m so obsessed with really just ask me to teach her about sex? And did I just say I’ll teach her how to orgasm?

Yeah, definitely did.

“So… when do you want to do… that?” I ask.

Olive bites her thumb warily. “Um, now?”

“Now?” My eyes practically bug out of my head. “O-okay. We’ll start now.”

“Here?” she questions, pointing to the couch.

“No,” I shake my head. “I’m taking you to bed, Olive.”