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“Thank you.” I whisper, “I’ve never been with a man who was a real Daddy before, and sometimes, I don’t know what kind of little I am.”
The problem is, I waffle between how little I enjoy regressing. Some days I want to curl up in my footie pajamas with my pacifier and watch cartoons. Other days, I feel like being older and more independent.
“We’ll figure that out together,” he promises, raising my hand to his lips to gently kiss my fingers before letting go of my hand. “Now, what do you want for breakfast?”
“The bacon waffles,” I tell him without bothering to look at the laminated menu. “But I really love their buttermilk chocolate chip pancakes too.”
I hate making decisions sometimes, especially when I will ultimately be happy with either choice.
“Will you let Daddy order for you?” Etienne gently asks as we continue to work out our dynamic.
“Yes.” I nod, relaxing into my chair. “Thank you,”
The waitress reappears, depositing hot cups of freshly brewed coffee onto the table, which awakens my senses. I grip the warm mug tightly.
“Are you ready to order?” she asks, glancing at the abandoned menus.
“Yes, I’m going to have the western omelet with the whole wheat toast, and the professor will have the bacon waffles and a side of mixed berries.”
The waitress glances at me with a questioning look. I nod and smile at her before taking a tentative sip of my steaming coffee.
“Would you like anything else?” she asks.
“No, thank you,” he says, handing her the menus.
Once the waitress disappears, Etienne reaches into his pocket and, grinning, says, “I brought you something.”
“What?” I ask excitedly, leaning toward him.
He pulls out a thin container the size of a mint tin.
“What is that?” I ask as he drops the container into my outstretched hand. Seeing the contents more clearly, I exclaim, “I love colored pencils!”
“I noticed that on Wednesday night,” he tells me, flipping over my paper placement to reveal a coloring page with the cartoon sea monster on the other side. “I thought you might want to color or play a game while we waited for breakfast.”
“Thank you!” I pop up in my chair to lean across the table and kiss him.
He chuckles with pleasure but admonishes softly, “Sit down.”
“Do Daddies always come prepared?” I ask, grinning at him.
“We try to.” He chuckles.
“What game do you want to play?” I take the plastic off the new case and open it to reveal the adorably small colored pencils and tiny sharpener.
“How about—” he snags the green pencil—“Hangman.”
“I haven’t played that in years. Who’s guessing first?”
“You.” He grins at me. “It’ll be a clue where I’m taking you today.”
I nod in excitement as he draws the board in the corner of the page in his neat, blocky, near perfect writing.
Can a man’s penmanship be sexy?
I can’t help but stare at his hand as he writes and mutters to himself as he counts the number of letter spaces.
“It’s two words. Are you ready?”
