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A waiter soon came up to us, and we ordered six smaller dishes to share, Coke for Noa, wine for me, and…Noa had his own request.
“Also,” he said, speaking behind his hand, as if I wouldn’t hear, “this is a nice place, and I don’t wanna embarrass my man when I drop the dumplings. Can I have a fork and knife, please?”
I coughed into my fist to hide my amusement.
“Of course, sir.” The waiter grinned a little and walked off.
“Phew.” Noa planted his forearms on the table and looked around us, most tables filled at this hour. “The food looks freaking awesome. I’m so hungry.”
So was I.
I fanned out my napkin across my lap and placed my chopsticks next to my plate.
Noa scratched his nose. “So did you ask me out for a particular reason?”
“More than one.” I smiled and grabbed his hand on the table. “I admit I have a main reason—and we’ll get to that soon—but I miss your company now that we’re not sneaking pizza lunches together in my office.”
His grin softened a little, and he played absently with my fingers. “I do too. Maybe we can come up with new lunch dates? Like, if you sneak out to see me when I work, and we eat behind the store? Or! Or I run home on my break, and I bring you something from the deli. They have roasted broccoli for you.”
I let out a laugh and squeezed his hand. “God, I love you, Noa. I think that sounds like a wonderful plan. Sans roasted broccoli.”
“Well…” He snickered and shrugged. “I have a list of foods from Daddy now, you know.” His mirth faded a bit, and he hesitated. “I just don’t wanna mess up again—and don’t say anything, okay?” he added quickly. I gave a look of warning, because I was most certainly going to say something if he ever indicated that our pizza lunches had been his mess-up. “I know I didn’t technically do anything wrong,” he told me. “But I didn’t take Daddy’s and Cameron’s worries seriously either, and I should have. I was just dumb. I was in denial, because I don’t ever want there to be anything wrong with you.”
Christ, my darling boy. It was so easy to forget that he?—
Okay, we were sitting too far apart, so I pulled out the chair next to me and asked him to sit with me.
As soon as he was seated, I gathered his hands in mine and kissed his knuckles.
“You’re right—you didn’t do anything wrong,” I murmured. “Not a damn thing. And, Noa, it’s…” I sighed. “You weren’t dumb either. You merely trusted your partner to tell you what he could handle.” I touched his cheek, and he leaned into my palm. “Sometimes, I forget that you interpret things differently when you’re in your Little space.”
How many times had I jokingly poked fun at Cam’s and KC’s concerns? I’d done it to dismiss the warning signs and to make Noa laugh.
He chewed on his lip and knitted his brows together. “What do you mean?”
“Well, you… When you’re in your Little space, your mind is more open,” I explained, hoping I made sense. Hoping he could relate. “Your filters are down, and it can be more difficult to catch underlying meanings in tone and expressions. If, for instance, I say something sarcastically or jokingly, you sometimes take it literally.”
He nodded slowly. “That sounds about right. I should work on?—”
“No.” I just had to get that out there right away, because I spotted our waiter arriving with our drinks. Either way, there was absolutely nothing for him to work on.
I put a polite smile on my face and made quick work of approving the wine, wanting my privacy back.
Then I took another sip of my wine because it was surprisingly delicious. I’d have to ask for the name of it later.
“There’s nothing for you to work on,” I said when we were alone again. “I’m the one who needs to watch what I say when you’re in a more vulnerable state.” Let’s face it, his dynamic with KC and, hell, all of us, was very fluid but damn near twenty-four seven. I should fucking understand by now that Noa picked up words more so than meaning. “The whole idea of you being our Little is that Daddy and I can make your world a brighter place,” I murmured. “A place that’s easier to understand, and one that has more cushion than vanilla reality.”
In the blink of an eye, Noa turned uncharacteristically bashful and hugged my arm.
“But you do,” he mumbled. “Every day.”
I kissed the top of his head and cupped his cheek.
“More cushion,” he whispered, seemingly to himself. “I loved all of those words, Uncle Lucian.”
I smiled. “Good. I meant each one. But do you understand what I mean, darling? You’ve done nothing wrong in my…my health crisis, or whatever I should call it. Nothing wrong whatsoever. You’re supposed to be able to trust me when I say something, and I want nothing more than for us to reach that place again.”
He peered up at me, his expression so open and beautiful.
