Page 22

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

NICO

Babbo was here, and it was all gonna be all right.

Anders had promised it would be when I got to Owen’s house. When he’d pulled me aside and said he needed to speak with me while Owen helped someone outside, I was scared I’d somehow done something wrong because he sounded so serious.

When I heard what the boys had planned, I was angry for half a second, but my emotions immediately morphed into relief. I’d been so miserable since I’d walked away from Levi in the club. The conversation with Nonna had rattled around my head nonstop since we’d had it. The trouble was I hadn’t figured out a way to go back, tail between my legs, and tell him I was wrong to walk away. I didn’t want anyone but him, but demand for independence was my default position, even when I didn’t want it to be.

At night, I lay in my bed with Saffy and Wormie as my sounding boards and tried to talk through what I was feeling about Babbo. Their advice wasn’t overly useful, but they didn’t mind when I went on a tangent about how sexy he was when he fixed breakfast shirtless or came home with his tie loosened and glasses perched on his nose.

I knew the boys only wanted to get Babbo and me in the same space. Their hearts were in the right place, and I was glad they took it out of my hands, but I needed to get out of there. I felt like I was crawling out of my skin.

“Babbo, we go?” I whispered. He immediately whipped his head around and gave me a searching look.

“You want to go now?” Babbo looked at our still-full plates because we were too preoccupied with our thoughts to eat, shrugged, and pushed his chair back from the table. He turned and helped me up. The boys looked at each other with concerned eyes, but Babbo waved them off.

“Nico’s going to come home with me.”

Uncle B slipped into the kitchen and put together a takeout bag that he handed to Babbo.

“He’ll be looking for dessert later.”

With that, Babbo led me out of the house and to his car. I reached for the door, but he brushed my hand away and opened it himself. Once inside, he buckled me in and closed the door. I barely moved when his car door opened and he slipped inside. Later, I’d demand he respect my independence, but in the meantime, I’d rest my eyes.

The ride back to the house was only about fifteen minutes, and that was only because of traffic. I’d hoped for longer because I loved the floaty feeling that being around Babbo when I was in little space left me with. When I left real life behind, someone else could worry about whether I was enough. Babbo always let me know I was.

Babbo pulled into the driveway, and I forced myself out of the car to head toward my house. In the car, I’d go to my bungalow, and he’d go to his house, and that would be the end of it. My sleepy brain had forgotten what he’d said at Owen’s house, so it was a surprise when I turned and he was two steps behind me.

“Babbo, why are you in here?” I asked when he followed me into the house.

“Because we’re getting your stuffies and some clothes, and then you’re coming home with me. We did it your way, and now we’re doing it mine.”

“You can’t tell me what to do.”

“Who did you tell Rory was your Daddy?”

I crossed my arms and stamped my foot. It wasn’t fair to bring that up now.

“I’m waiting,” Babbo said through clenched teeth. “You won’t out stubborn me. Who did you say was your Daddy?”

“You,” I huffed out.

“Then, yes, I do get to tell you what to do. Where’s your overnight bag?”

I refused to answer. I didn’t understand why I was being like this besides annoyance at myself that I wanted to take out on him. I shook my head rather than respond.

Babbo sighed deeply and raised his eyes to the ceiling. “Suit yourself.”

A sharp stab of white-hot regret cut through me. I instantly regretted my words when I thought he was walking away from me, just like I had in the club. But rather than leave, Babbo grabbed my hand and led me to the living room. He shoved the coffee table out of the way and sat on the sofa.

“Sweet Boy, what are your safewords?”

Silence.

“I’m quickly running out of patience, little boy,” Babbo responded with a sharp tone.

“Red stop, yellow slow down, and green go.”

“Excellent. Your safeword is always allowed. You understand me?”

“Yeah.”

With my agreement given, he yanked me forward, and I fell across his lap. His hand immediately smacked my covered bottom before I knew what he was about. It stung, but still clothed, it wasn’t too bad. The second strike smarted more. By the fifth blow, I was crying. The eighth spank jerked a spasm through my body from the searing pain.

I bawled giant, messy tears. There was nothing cute or pretty about my waterworks. My eyes burned with salty tears that left them swollen. My nose was red and runny with snot. I struggled to catch my breath between my gulping sobs. Nothing attractive. No cute, sweet, and simpering little was to be found in my living room. All that was left was a chubby one with blotchy skin, a red nose, and puffy eyes.

At some point, Babbo flipped me over and held me in his lap while I continued to cry. I hadn’t realized that Wormie was in the vicinity until Babbo placed him in my arms and encouraged me to hug him tight.

“I’ve got you.”

“You’re okay.”

“Such a good boy.”

Babbo’s soft reassurances washed over me. He knew exactly what I needed. My morning spankings centered me, and this one had taken me out of my mental spiral. Babbo knew me. He knew what I needed.

* * *

“Let’s get you in the bathtub, baby boy.” After my breakdown, Babbo hustled me to his house and upstairs to the bathroom. He immediately turned on the water and dumped in some lavender bubble bath. When he saw my sad look, he dumped a few more capfuls in.

“Babbo, can I have toys?” I didn’t think it was possible to take a bath without toys, and I didn’t wanna find out if I was right or not. Babbo kissed me on the nose, hustled over to the counter, and pulled out a mesh bag of bath toys.

“Silly boy, of course you can have toys. I’m not a sea monster. I would never take those away from you.”

His silliness sent me into a fit of giggles, and I felt lighter. It felt like forever and ever since I’d smiled, let alone giggled. Even playing with the cats this afternoon, I felt sad on the inside. Babbo stripped me out of my clothes and then helped me into the bathtub. “Gonna get in?”

“No, sweetheart, not this time.” Instead, he pushed up the sleeves of his rugby shirt and propelled a tugboat through the bubbles to join mine. My bottom ached, but I secretly hoped the water would keep me pink there longer. Babbo took a quick break to wash me all over, including my hair. We chased each other through the water until my yawns came one after the other and the water faded to lukewarm.

“It’s time to get out because I’m not sure if sleeping boys can float.”

“I can swim, Babbo. I do a good job floating.”

“Sorry, Sweet Boy. I’m not risking it.”

“No, Babbo. I don’t wanna.” The water was warm enough, and I really could swim. And most of all, I just didn’t want to get out. I drew my legs up under my chin and shook my head. Babbo sighed and muttered something to the ceiling.

“Little boy, we are not doing this again. You can get out of this bathtub, get into some comfy PJs, snuggle your stuffies, listen to a story, and take a nap, or you can do things the hard way. Your call, but when I count to three, I need an answer.”

I remained mute and obstinate. The water really didn’t feel good anymore, and I kinda sorta wanted out, but I didn’t want to admit it since I’d already said no.

“One.”

Nada.

“Two.”

Nope.

“Three. What’s your choice?”

I stood but groaned when I did it because now the ache didn’t feel nearly as good.

“Thank you, baby.” Babbo wrapped a towel around me that I twirled two times into. He kissed my forehead with each twirl. He grabbed another towel and scrubbed the water from my hair so it didn’t drip everywhere. “Where are your clothes?” Babbo looked around the bathroom and moved towels on the counter.

“Oh no, I forgot all my clothes and my babies at my house.” Now that I was out of the bathtub, I wanted the story and cuddle Babbo promised if I listened like a good boy. And I did. Mostly.

“I grabbed your things before we left your house. Hold on a sec.” Babbo left me standing on the mat while he went to fetch them from the other room. He was back in a few minutes, clothes in hand, for me to get dressed. He knew me well enough to know my favorite undies had big digging machines on them and my pajamas matched.

“Thank you, Babbo,” I said, then laid my hand on his shoulder so I could kiss his cheek.

“You’re very welcome,” he answered softly. “Let’s get you fixed up and into bed.” I nodded as yet another yawn took control. He led me to the bed and pulled back the covers.

Wormie and Saffy were already waiting for me when we stepped into the bedroom. Babbo had placed them under the covers, propped up on the pillows, and laying across their laps was a storybook.

“All right, sunshine, climb in and scoot over so I can sit next to you.”

I remembered I was supposed to be arguing with him about something, but I couldn’t remember what it was, so I followed his instructions instead.

“What’s the story about, Babbo?”

“It’s about a digger who wants to do everything by himself, but he can’t do everything by himself, and that makes him sad.”

“Why does he want to do everything by himself?’

“I don’t know. I guess we’re gonna have to read the story and find out.”

And we did. The digger, Doug, thought that to be a big machine, he didn’t need to ask any of the other machines for help, so he tried to dig up the garden all by himself. But Doug made a mess because he couldn’t get all the places he needed to go, so he tore things up accidentally. But when he asked his friends, who’d told him they wanted to help, that he couldn’t do it by himself, they all had a party and came to the garden to help.

“Doug is a naughty digger.”

“You think so? Why do you say that?”

“He didn’t ask his friends for help. They wanted to help him, and he wouldn’t let them.”

“It doesn’t make him naughty, but maybe stubborn.”

I knew he was talking about me, and he wasn’t wrong, but I wasn’t ready to say it aloud, so I snuggled in next to him and closed my eyes.

“Babbo, want another story, peas.” Papa smiled against my ear.

“I thought you might, so I have a second book, but then you gotta sleep. Deal?”

“Deal.”

* * *

It seemed like for me to leave little space I needed to nap, and today was no exception. Except this time, instead of wandering through the house to look for Babbo, I found him stretched out on the bed beside me with his laptop as he went through paperwork. He must’ve felt me stir because he glanced over and gave me a quick grin.

“Welcome back to the land of the living, sleepyhead.”

He didn’t seem upset or out of sorts with me, which was a good sign. I felt bad that I’d made him miss his luncheon with Owen because I knew they hadn’t spent much time together since Owen had moved in with Barrett. And I was bummed that I missed my first official playdate with the boys.

“You’re awfully quiet over there. Not awake yet?”

“I was just thinking that I missed my first playdate.”

Babbo’s hand came to rest in my hair, twirling the longer strands around his fingers. “I know, Sweet Boy, I’m sorry you missed it too, but the circles under your eyes said you needed sleep more than you needed to play games and eat more sugar.”

“You’re not wrong. I just don’t want you to be right.”

Babbo chuckled at my ridiculousness but didn’t argue with the point. I knew we needed to have the conversations I’d been avoiding since that god-awful night at the club. That was the moment when it felt like everything had gone to shit between us, and I really wanted our easiness back, even if only for a little while. Though truthfully, I wanted more than that. I wanted to figure out a way to have a relationship with him that didn’t send me running scared for the hills every time he made some reference to a potential future. But before I could explain any of that, my stomach let out a rumble that filled the entire room.

“Oh my gosh, I am so sorry.”

Babbo gave me a perplexed look. “What are you sorry for? If you’re hungry, you’re hungry.”

“Yeah, I know, but I don’t think you wanna hear quite that much of it.”

Babbo set his laptop aside, got off the bed, and held out his hand to me. “The only thing it tells me is that I need to get some food in my boy. Come on, let’s go see what we can find downstairs.” We walked down the stairs together into the kitchen, but once we got there, he told me, “Unfortunately, I don’t think the offerings will be as good as you would get at Stone and Vine, but I can offer a cheese crisp and some sliced apples.”

“Sliced apples, solid yes. I have no clue what a cheese crisp is.”

“It was what my mom fed me when she wasn’t in the mood to cook. Slap some butter on a tortilla, put on your cheese, broil until it’s crispy, and you’re done. I really need to go grocery shopping.”

“That sounds like three a.m. drunk food.”

“I can neither confirm nor deny that, but it does soak up a lot of alcohol.” Babbo went to work putting our food together while I sat at the island and watched him.

Babbo helped himself to a hard cider before he turned and asked me, “What are you having?”

I thought for a second and decided to just lay it on the line. I didn’t think he’d mind. “Can I have some chocolate milk in a sippy cup, please?”

“Of course you can, Sweet Boy.” Babbo snagged the sippy cup from the cupboard and prepared the requested drink for me. When he slid it across the soapstone to me, he gave me a thoughtful look and added, “You know we’re gonna have to talk about this, right?”

“Yeah, I know, but I don’t know what to say or where to start.”

“Eat first, and then we can figure it out.”

* * *

“Are you trying to run me off the road?” Babbo wasn’t super careful about where he steered his avatar when he raced around the track. After lunch, we’d put away our dishes and ended up on the sofa with our controllers.

“Me? Never. I want you to win.” His droll tone said otherwise.

“Someone’s a liar,” I retorted quickly, but Babbo just laughed at me.

With our hands occupied and without a need to look at him, I decided to be the brave one. “What do you want out of this?”

“A relationship with you.”

I loved and hated Babbo’s willingness to be honest even when it was hard. It would be easier, at least for me, if he pretended to dance around it. There was never a need to guess Babbo’s intentions because he was so straightforward. Ugh. He made it hard to hide.

“Hearts and flowers and everything?”

“Are you a hearts and flowers guy?” Babbo’s conversational tone never wavered, never pressured me. His eyes never left the screen as we screamed around the track with our fingers flying over the controller.

“Only on festive occasions.”

Babbo’s snort was quickly followed by his shout when I cut off his car.

“What do you want out of this?” Babbo asked.

I’d avoided that crucial thought like the plague. I knew I didn’t want to be tied down. I knew I wanted to be with him.

“I was talking to Nonna the other day.”

“Yeah? How is she?”

“Oh, she’s good. We went out to lunch and to the garden center. You would like it, I think. They had a metric ton of rosebushes.”

“You’re gonna have to take me.”

“I will. Anyway, she said that she and PopPop had an installment plan relationship.”

“Like a layaway? I think my mom used to do that at JCPenney for my Christmas presents.”

“Uh, I guess? I don’t know what that is. Anyway. She said that every year, halfway between their anniversary, she and my granddad would decide if they wanted to stay together for another year.”

“Weren’t they married?”

“Yeah, but she said he understood she didn’t like feeling forced into marriage by society and whatnot, so he let her decide every year if she wanted to stay.”

During my explanation, Babbo’s eyes never wavered from the screen, but I knew him well enough to know he was thinking long and hard about what I’d said.

“My ex-boyfriend was fine with me going to the club and finding someone who met my needs. I didn’t mind it in the beginning and disliked it in the end. I wanted him to be the one I shared all the things with, not some random guy I just met.”

“Will you eventually want that again?” I asked.

“You mean an open-ish relationship? No. Will you?”

“I don’t think so, but I’m not ready to say absolutely not either. ”

“I can accept that.”

Our eyes never left the screen.

“Sweet Boy, do you want to try this?”

“Yeah, but don’t get sappy about it.”

Babbo raced past me on the track.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he said dryly.

“What else do you want?” I wanted everything clear this time.

“The check-ins are fine, but in between those, I need you to be all in and not one foot out the door.”

“What does that look like?” I asked him.

“It means we are dating and meeting families, and you have to let me do sappy shit without complaining about it.”

“Do I still get my morning spankings?”

“One hundred percent yes. No question. But I have a question for you.”

I heard the seriousness of his tone and knew what he wanted to ask. I stared at the paintings on the wall. They weren’t the inexpensive framed posters I’d put up in my place. They were all original art with bright, colorful strokes. Like Levi was when you looked below the obvious surface.

“You want to know what happened at the club?”

“Yeah.”

“I hadn’t even planned it before I said it.” I sighed. “I just panicked at the thought, not even the reality, of what you were asking me about. It was stupid on my part, and I wanted to take it back when I said them.”

Levi let my words sink before asking, “So why didn’t you?”

That was the million-dollar question.

“This doesn’t say anything good about me, but pride? Embarrassment?” Babbo finally looked at me directly with a knowing look. “And stubbornness.”

“Ah.”

I needed him to understand my reluctance had nothing to do with him and everything to do with me. Unfortunately, there wasn’t an event I could point to in my history and say that was the exact cause of my fear. Other than my previous certainty, I’d never find anyone who loved me the way my parents loved each other. I had nothing. Was it weird to be afraid of commitment because your parents were too committed? It seemed likely.

“We gonna do this, Sweet Boy?” Babbo reached out his hand to me across the sofa.

“Yeah, we are.” I met his hand halfway, and our fingers entwined.