Page 21 of Little Treat

Jamie scurried across the bedroom floor to the side of his bed and pulled out a bag. He scrambled back over to me on his knees. “Okay, let’s switch.”

“Deal.”

Swapping bags, he went through mine so quickly as I opened his, all perfectly wrapped with bows and ribbons. As I went through them, the first box contained a cologne—it was a designer one. I’d never been too fussed with colognes in the past, but this one looked good. I unboxed it right there and gave it a spritz on my wrist. Jamie’s face darted to me.

“It’s my favorite smell,” he said. “On other guys, like it’s my favorite to smell in passing, or like... on a pillow, or clothes.” He began rambling. “And I noticed you didn’t really have a signature scent, so I decided to try and get one for you.”

“Oh.” It was musky vanilla, and sweet. I nodded. “I guess this means you definitely want to keep seeing me, then.”

“In passing,” he giggled, then tore through more of my gifts to him. I don’t think he’d even seen or registered what was in the pile of paper.

He’d even wrapped an envelope for me. Inside it was a Christmas card, hand drawn. The front was of me and him, and he’d labeled it in case I wasn’t sure:JamieandDaddy. It was all done in crayons. Opening it, there was more writing.Will you be my boyfriend? Tick below.Two boxes, one withyesand the other withyes (the right answer). He’d watched me open it, and now stared like a little puppy.

“We’ve only just started dating like two minutes ago,” I told him.

“You can save it until you have an answer,” he said.

“You have a pen?”

Seeming to swim in the wrapping paper, he grabbed a crayon from the inside of his nightstand drawer.

“What do you think about the gifts I bought you?” I asked, as I looked over my choices. It was going to be difficult to answer.

“I freaking love them,” he said, wrapping the Maple Kings scarf around his neck and donning the team beanie. Amongst it all was a new teddy bear, which wasn’t equipped with a hole for fucking, unfortunately, and a new onesie.

“You’ve still got one left,” I said, noticing my favorite gift remained undiscovered.

He gasped, rushing to discover what it was in the bag. And there it was, the final gift. A leather paddle withDaddycut through it—in a mirrored version.“This isn’t English,” he said, tracing the mirrored letters and then swatting it against his hand.

“Oh, it is when you hit it with force,” I told him, revealing the word. “It’s why I’m checking a box on your card.” I ticked a box and passed it to him.

Jamie held the card close for a moment. “But this is yours,” he said. “I don’t wanna open it.”

“Open it, or thosetwospanks turn to three,” I whispered. “And you know I don’t like odd numbers, so—”

He opened it. I’d ticked the box markedyes (the right answer), because while dating him these past couple of days, I’d realized there was some commitment there, and if we were to label it, I’d want to do it now while we were together, rather than over text or call when I was in Burlington.

“We don’t have to label it,” he said. “I just thought it would be fun.”

I tucked my forefinger under his chin and grabbed at him with my thumb, pulling him in. “I thought we already labeled it,” I whispered, getting close to his face. “You’re baby, and I’m—”

“Daddy,” he croaked, nodding.

“Good boy.”

“Thank you, Daddy.”

We were soon called to dinner, and I was still processing the fact I now had a boyfriend. I was in my late thirties—or so I was still telling myself, processing the fact I was now foty, and the last thing I ever expected was to be calling someone my boyfriend—or for them to be calling me Daddy, which had so many layers of satisfaction. I wanted Jamie all to myself, for the foreseeable future.

Sitting beside each other at the dinner table, our feet and legs were intertwined. It was quiet, considering how loud they’d all been earlier. The food was incredible, and I wasn’t talking due to having food in my mouth at all times. His mom had really prepared a feast. Mac and cheese, garlic potatoes, mashed potatoes with a hint of cheese—as she put it—ham, and chicken.Out of all the Christmas dinners I’d had, this ranked among the top.

Usually, the guys who didn’t go away for Christmas or have family would all gather and it would be a potluck. They must’ve all been missing out on my cheeseboard—the one I claimed to have made myself but bought from the store like what most of the guys did.

As plates were scraped clean, I decided to announce the tickets.

Mr. Cooper was nursing a glass of amber liquid—the expensive scotch, I assumed—a big smile on his face, almost approving, which Jamie was grinning from ear-to-ear about. “Transport included?” he asked.

“Dad, you—” Jamie started.