Page 18 of Brock’s Lost Lunchbox

“This is my rocket-ship puzzle. It’s magnets, and they stick only in the right way, so you always push it together the way it’s supposed to. And there’s a little man inside, but you have to pull the top off to get him out. There’s no door, but in real space, you wouldn’t want a door.”

I was babbling on, and he listened as if I was telling him the most important information. It was easy to just fall into that space where I could just be excited and not have to hide who I was.

“And these are my bricks. And they’re really fun, but they’re hard to get apart, so there’s this tool here.” I handed him the separator. “So, if we play with these, you might have to take some and make them back apart again so that I can build because I make mistakes a lot.”

“Are they mistakes, or do you just change your mind?” he asked.

“Both, Daddy Zeph. They’re both.”

We went all over the room. I showed him my books, my stuffies, my movie collection, which I kept on VHS despite them starting to deteriorate. There was something about being able to just put them in and let them go and not having to change settings or find the right spot to begin that made them more fun when I was playing alone.

“And over here are my crafts, but I don’t have glitter here. I like glitter too much.” Lesson learned there. At my last place, I had to pay money when I moved out because the glitter never went away. “I try to save the glitter for when I’m out. But there’s lots of stickers in there and crayons and watercolors and markers that even erase, so if you make a mistake, you can make it over.”

“Wow, you have a lot of amazing things. What should we start with first?”

I was bouncing up and down, so excited, already in the right headspace for the day. And he must’ve seen it too because, immediately after asking me what we wanted to do, he took it back by saying, “You know what? I think my sweet boy needs a story because he’s got lots and lots of wiggles, and it might help calm him down before we get playing.”

I grabbed my favorite book and handed it to him. “This one.”

“Okay, sweet boy. Let’s sit on the couch together and read this one.”

I snuggled into his side as he read me the story. And by the time we got to the last page, I was deeper in little space than I’d ever been before and was ready to play.

Chapter Fourteen

Zeph

“I’m big now.”

Brock and I had spent a beautiful afternoon together at his home, learning what it meant to be daddy and little together and play. Or, rather, learning more. We’d had our one time at Chained, months ago, when we met. And we talked about another session all the time, but unfortunately most of those conversations were via text or Facetime because my boy worked far too much. And he wasn’t receptive to changing that dynamic—the work one. He believed he was putting in the necessary hours to achieve his career goals.

As a new daddy, I didn’t have the experience many of my friends did, but they were glad to offer advice. Which went something like, many littles were workaholics and used their time in the playroom or with a daddy in general to decompress. To relax and calm down.

But it had been worth waiting for. And now, the little time was over, as certified and asserted by Brock. He went into the bedroom and emerged wearing comfortable lounge pants and a white T-shirt. “Would you like a drink?”

“Now that you’re big, yes, I think that would be nice. What do you have?”

“I don’t keep a lot of alcohol in the house,” he said. “But I have a nice bottle of red wine. Would that be all right? And some cheese and crackers?”

“I’d like that. It sounds relaxing.”

“Then you stay here in the living room, and I’ll take care of you now.”

I protested for just a moment, more used to being the person who took care of others, but when he pressed me down into the sofa, I laughed. “All right. You are the host, after all.”

He disappeared into the kitchen and was gone only a few minutes before returning with a tray holding a bottle of wine with a corkscrew stuck in the top, a couple of glasses, and a plate of cheese and crackers and olives. “Here we are. Now, would you like to watch a movie?”

“I would.” Accepting a glass from him, I held it up and admired its ruby sheen. “Very pretty.”

“Yes, but how does it taste?” He watched as I took a sip and swished it around. “I’m not a connoisseur, but I think it’s lovely.”

“Yeah?” He tipped the glass back. “I’m not an expert either, but this was a Secret Santa gift last Christmas, and I was hoping it would be good. I like it.”

“What movie shall we watch?”

We settled down with the remote and found a rom-com neither of us had seen that seemed like the right thing for cuddling on the couch. Which we did. Cuddled. When the cheese and crackers were gone and we were halfway through our second glasses of wine, I took the glass from his hand and set both on the coffee table.

Brock arched a brow, and I patted my thigh. His grin was adorable but very grown-up as he nodded. “Daddy, what did you have in mind?”