Page 52 of A Little Bit Naughty

Isaac

The drive back to Remi’s house passed in a relaxed hour of beautiful scenery and eighties music. Isaac didn’t know why he’d put off saying yes to Daddy for so long about staying with him, when it was clearly the only thing he wanted to do.

Still, pulling into the driveway of the cute craftsman-style home made it all terribly real.

Being with Remi at the Meadowlark Lodge was a true vacation, a fantasy destination with a fantasy Daddy.

This was Remi’s house. The paint was a jaunty, fresh white and blue, but a ladder leaned against the side where it was clear Remi was still doing some work. The wide, inviting porch had a wooden swing that Isaac already wanted to curl up on, though the railing leading up the steps looked like it was one gust of wind away from falling off.

Remi had said it was a work in progress, but listening to him talk about it, it was clear it was so much more than that. Remi loved his place, and you could see it in all the little details. Windchimes hung from the eves of the porch and a dozen scraggly rose bushes wrapped around it. Isaac already knew that Remi had just put them in this summer and was worried that they wouldn’t thrive.

Somehow, being here felt very intimate in a way that nothing else had.

Once they stepped out of the car, this was all going to be very real.

Remi’s hand came to rest on his knee. They were sitting in the driveway now, the engine off. “What do you think?”

Isaac looked over to find that Remi seemed nervous. Was he truly worried that Isaac wouldn’t approve?

“It’s lovely. It’s clear all the work you’ve put into it. I bet it’s nice to sit on the porch swing.”

Remi’s shoulders relaxed, a smile returning to his face. “It’ll be even nicer with a sweet boy to sit beside me. Shall we head in?”

“Sure.”

Inside, it was just as Remi had described it. The living room had a magnificent built-in bookshelf of cherry wood so polished that it glowed. The kitchen was airy and open, the cabinets feeling both antique and stylish. The dining room, on the other hand, was a disaster of shag carpeting and unfortunate gray-ish wallpaper, and there was a space that might one day be a den that was filled entirely with tools and lumber.

Everything looked cozy and homey, though. Pictures of Remi’s family stood out on the bookshelves. The sleek refrigerator had magnets from trips and local restaurants, mixed in with art that had presumably been drawn by Remi’s copious nieces and nephews. The couch was laden with plump pillows and a fuzzy green blanket.

Isaac loved all of it.

Remi shrugged, looking sheepish. “I haven’t made it quite this far yet. I’m just taking it one room at a time.”

“All the parts you’ve redone are stunning,” Isaac told him honestly. “It’s a beautiful house, and a charming home. What are you working on now?”

“The bathroom down here, so use one of the ones upstairs, please.” Remi nodded toward a door with a dusty bin of tools and a gallon of paint outside it. “And, um… the playroom.”

Fuck. Isaac knew it was a mistake coming here. Because now he knew that Remi was building a playroom… that was one day going to belong to some other boy. He both desperately wanted to see it—wanted to know every detail that Remi had planned so he could imagine himself in it—and didn’t want to know anything about it.

He could so easily see himself swinging his legs while he sat on one of the tall stools at the kitchen island, eating Daddy’s scrambled eggs and toast with grape jam. He wanted to curl up in the inviting couch next to the bookshelves with his head on Daddy’s lap. He could imagine coming home each day to this cozy, elegant home that was such a far cry from his cramped student apartment that always smelled like pizza, ramen, and cleaning spray.

They both stood there indecisively for a moment. Probably because Remi was expecting him to say something.

But he really couldn’t. Not when Daddy was building a playroom that couldn’t be his.

“So, let’s get our stuff brought upstairs,” Remi finally said. “We’ll get you settled in, and then you can call Tommy.”

They went back out to the car. Remi leaned into the trunk to pull out their luggage, but Isaac could see the pain glancing across his face when he hefted the first suitcase down.

Isaac put a gentle hand on his back. “Can I carry everything? You know I have too much energy after sitting still all the way here.”

Remi kissed his nose. “I know you’re trying not to make me feel weak and incompetent because of my back injury. And maybe if I were younger, or I hadn’t been living with it for so long, I would have tried to do it anyway to impress you. But honestly, if you don’t mind bringing it in, I would be grateful.”

“No problem.” Isaac grabbed the second suitcase, silently reveling in just how easy this was for him now that he was on testosterone. He still felt that same quiet pride in being able to effortlessly do these things that were coded as being manly. At the same time, it was critical for Remi to understand that not being able to do the exact same act wouldn’t lose any of his admiration.

Remi sighed deeply. “I hate feeling like this. I don’t look different. I don’t think differently. Sometimes I have weeks where it’s not too bad, and I like to imagine it’s going away. And then one night of sleeping the wrong way or… I don’t know, leaning over to pick up a sock off the floor, just sets it off again. That happened a couple weeks ago.” He snorted. “A sock. And I could barely make it into work.”

“That sounds frustrating. Sometimes making adjustments to how someone thinks about themselves can be as challenging as the actual disability.”