CHLOE: Get some sleep.
CHLOE: Or try to sleep.
CHLOE: At least think about sleeping.
MAYA: Goodnight. I hate all of you.
EMILY: No she doesn't.
LILY: She really doesn't.
I don't sleep for a long time. I’m too busy thinking about things.
I lie in the dark in my snow globe suite with the cashmere blanket and the mountain view and I think about all of it. I thinkabout the almost-touch and the way he asked what the gap was between what the content earns and what I need, like a person who solves problems instead of just acknowledging them. There’s a place for both, I suppose. Someone who just listens and someone who solves. I want a Daddy who knows the difference and when to apply each listening technique and I know he’s the type that can differentiate between when I need him to solve my problems and when I need him to hold me and just listen.
I think about the sound of his voice in the cold air saying,someone I can take care of, who actually lets me.Would I let him? God, yes.
And that scares the hell out of me because I've just met him. By every reasonable standard, he should still be a stranger. But none of that seems to matter.
Because Iknow.
I know in the deepest part of myself, in the quiet place that never doubts, never questions. The same place that knows I need oxygen to breathe, that gravity will keep my feet on the ground, that the earth keeps turning whether I believe it will or not.
And that part of me is certain of him.
It's ridiculous. Reckless. Maybe even a little insane. But every instinct I have whispers the same undeniable truth.
He's supposed to be mine.
I don’t know how I know but I just know.
I think about the fact that I've read every book in the club's catalog. I know the dynamic. I know what it is and what it isn't and why the women who find it feel found by it. I've always read those books with a part of myself that I never looked at too directly, a quiet recognizing part that said yes and then didn't say anything else. Just yes. That’s all that needed to be said.
Yes, I am a little.
Just like I’m a brunette.
Just like I’m five foot two.
It’s as certain as certain gets.
And a little needs a Daddy. Not just a partner, but a Daddy. Without one? She’ll never be complete or happy.
I pull the blanket tighter and look at the dark mountains and think: two more days until Thursday. Until I see him again. The man I know is going to be my Daddy… at least, I hope so.
It feels like a long time.
It also feels like not enough.
CHAPTER 5
I'm up at six-thirty.
This is not normal for me. I am a person who treats mornings as a negotiation, who requires at least one full coffee before anything resembling human interaction, who has set her alarm for 7:58 on more occasions than she would like to admit. I am not now nor will I ever be a morning person. If it’s still dark out? It’s not morning yet.
But, here I am, up at six-thirty, showered, caffeinated, and standing in front of my open suitcase trying to figure out what a person wears to a wildlife rehabilitation ranch when they also want to look like they didn't try. While also hoping to impress upon a virtual stranger that he’s supposed to be her Daddy. Because said person is me and said person is not acting like a sane person. That begs the question: Do I ever act like a sane person? Concentrate, Maya. Clothes.
Barn clothes, he said to wear barn clothes. This is about the animals. I didn’t pack thinking about going to a barn. I packed thinking luxury resort. Do I even have anything remotely barn clothes-esque?
