Page 13

After the drive home, where Brennen’s hand never left my thigh, we’d settled into the living room.

When he’d told me to change into comfy clothes and grab Peasebottom, I’d known this would be difficult.

How bad had remained to be seen, but I’d done as he suggested.

I’d sat on the couch, feet tucked under me, with PB clutched tight to my chest. By sheer force of will, I’d kept my voice neutral in response to Brennen’s initial statement.

“I found your pacifier,” Brennen repeated.

High key, those four spoken words freaked me out, but I tried my best to hide it.

This ridiculous fantasy had spun out of control.

“What makes you think it’s mine? You don’t know how long it’s been there.

It probably came with the couch.” My bravado was all faked, but I put as much force as I could muster into it.

“The couch came new from the store and I straighten the cushions every day. The last time, before I found the pacifier this morning, was right before I left for the road trip. It wasn’t there.”

“Oh.” Well, shoot, so much for that excuse.

“It’s yours, right?” Surprisingly, he wasn’t…

mad. This upside-down world I’d been dropped into confused me.

He’d kissed me after he found the pacifier.

Surely, that accounted for something. And he was super, duper attentive at dinner.

Logically, it made sense that the little thing wasn’t a problem, but my sense of self-preservation wasn’t willing to trust the logic.

“Look, I can explain. It’s a dumb thing…just a joke.”

“A joke with whom?” My real answer was my imaginary friends, so I kept quiet and ignored the question.

Think. Think. Think.

I waved my hand vaguely in the air in an attempt to distract him rather than admit that I didn’t have a plausible answer for his question.

“Can I explain what happened?” Brennen asked gently. I nodded weakly and waited for him to continue. “So I went to straighten the cushions and found the pacifier and the coloring books you left on the coffee table.”

Oops. I’d completely forgotten about them when I was trying to get to my room this morning. Honestly, I hadn’t realized I’d left my pacifier behind until he said it, and it hit me that I didn’t have it in my mouth this morning. The screwup was entirely on me.

“I went to put your stuff in your room and I set it on your desk.”

No. No. No.

“On my desk?” I croaked.

“Yeah, and that’s when I saw your journal.”

“My journal?” I parroted weakly.

“I promise I didn’t go snooping. It was laying open, and when I set your stuff down, I saw it.” Yesterday, I’d been writing in it before I decided to head to the living room and get comfortable for my nightly movie. I remember exactly what I wrote in excruciating detail.

Daddy B is the bestest Daddy in the whole world.

He’s sweet and strong ’cause he opens all the jars.

He lets my stuffies and me have picnics in the living room.

He likes that I’ve never kissed anyone but him.

Daddy B helps me stay organized, and when I do a good job, he puts a sticker on my chart.

He makes all my dangly bits feel good and he likes when I suck him instead of my pacifier.

He tells me that my fluffy butt from my nappy is cute and that’s why he always pats it.

He likes going on rock hunts with me and having movie marathons.

When the universe made Daddy B, it was so he could be the perfect Daddy for me.

“Anything else?” I sighed.

“After I set your stuff down, I noticed some of your clothes were on the floor, and I was going to do a load of laundry anyway…”

“It keeps getting worse.”

Brennen ignored my outburst and continued, “And that’s when I realized it was a onesie and a diaper cover.”

“Nappy cover.”

“What was that, sweetheart?”

I ignored the sweetheart comment but answered the question. “Nappy sounds better than diaper.”

“I’ll remember that. You’re a little, right?”

“Yeah, I am.” Lying was futile. He already knew.

“Good because I want to be your Daddy.”

This evening, which had already been surreal and upside down, was headed into the fantastical.

How was it possible that everything I’d ever wanted was being handed to me on a platter?

I didn’t even win at Bingo, and now I was suddenly winning at life?

My dad always said that when things sounded too good to be true, someone was getting screwed, and it was probably the person getting lucky.

Brennen looked and sounded sincere as he sat on the couch next to me.

I had spent months studying Brennen Tate before he even knew my name.

His favorite color was green. He only drank coffee in the morning, and it was black with one sweetener.

When he had the choice, he picked action movies, but he always said yes when I suggested a cartoon.

He could eat his weight in pasta, and shrimp scampi was his favorite.

I knew he liked his apartment, car, locker, and equipment to be tidy.

But most importantly, I knew he had a tell when he was nervous.

He tapped his left-hand thumb and ring finger together in a staccato pattern.

It only ever happened when he was nervous on a personal level.

The tell never showed on the ice. Right now, his fingers tapped like they were preparing for takeoff.

Brennen Tate was nervous while talking to me about being my Daddy, and that was all I needed to know.

“I’d like to try that.”

“Yeah?”

The hopefulness in Brennen’s voice was a clear sign that I’d made the right decision, even if the circumstances were embarrassing. He reached across, captured my hand, and carefully wound our fingers together.

“I have a quick confession,” he said.

“Am I going to find it embarrassing?” If it could be someone else’s turn for once this evening, that would be great. Brennen’s quick grin made my belly flip-flop like I was on the opening drop of a rollercoaster.

“No, but I might.”

“Please share.”

“I’ve never been a Daddy before. You’re going to have to help me get it right because you deserve the best.” I heard the sincerity in his voice. And although I wasn’t sure why he’d decided to direct that intensity toward me, I’d bask in it for as long as it lasted.