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“Sweetheart, I ordered it.”

That’s true, I guess.

I pick it up. The shield is smooth, cool plastic, the kind you could run your thumb over without catching an edge. Rounded. It’s a pretty sky blue shade. I turn it over in my hand, feel the silicone nipple, then set it down.

“Maybe later?”

“Later is fine.”

The last thing in the box is a soft pair of rabbit-shaped slippers. Adrien looks entirely unapologetic when I peek up at him.

“They have ears,” I say.

“Yep.”

I pick one up, one of its ears flopping to the side as it’s moved. They’re light pink with a white inner lining, and have two black beads sewn on for eyes. They’re also super soft.

Adrien wisely says nothing as I slip them on.

At 1:00, Adrien lets me sit on the couch in the small sitting room while he works on his laptop at the opposite end.

By 1:15, I have migrated close enough that my feet are tucked underneath his thigh, bunny slippers included.

I don’t remember deciding to do that, and I actually only notice it when Adrien absentmindedly places his hand over my ankle like it belongs there.

Another knock comes sometime after that, then another.

Adrien really did get carried away.

One of the boxes has soft pajamas and a chewable necklace I refuse to put anywhere near my mouth until Adrien points out I have been chewing the drawstring of my shorts for twenty minutes.

I stop; look down.

And yep, the end of the string is indeed in my mouth.

Adrien raises an eyebrow. I take the necklace without looking at him directly and loop it once around my wrist instead of my neck because we are not admitting anything out loud.

The next purchase, after the pacifier, that truly confounds me is a pack of adult diapers.

The diapers are pastel pink, with little elephants wearing tutus and ballet slippers dancing across the front. There’s glitter on the package, like a unicorn sneezed on it.

Adrien slides the package out of the box, the sound of plastic crinkling loud in my ears. He places it on the coffee table, right next to my feet, and sits down beside me. I go still, staring at the cartoon elephants as if one of them is going to start talking and explain how the fuck I’m supposed to feel about this.

“You okay?” Adrien asks.

I nod, but the movement is tiny and tight. “I just didn’t know they… made them like this.”

He shrugs. “They make everything, Kammie. You don’t have to wear them at all. But some littles like the feeling of being supported by the thick fabric. The pressure can be comforting. For others, it’s about the convenience, or the humiliation, or just the look of it.” He glances at me, like he’s checking a gauge. “You don’t have to try it today. Or ever. I just wanted you to know the option was there. And no, I won’t think it’s weird. You can assume I like everything I ordered for you.”

My tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth. I keep my eyes on the package, letting the chaos of my thoughts jostle around in my head until one of them floats to the top—elephants are supposed to have good memories.

I wonder if these diapers will remember my shame forever. I almost laugh at the thought, but it comes out a shaky exhale instead.

“I don’t want to disappoint you,” I say, softer than I mean to. “If I don’t like it.”

Adrien reaches over, his hand smoothing over the top of my thigh. “Kammie.” He says it like a lullaby, soft and rounded. “You can disappoint me by bottling things up, or by lying to yourself. But not by telling me honestly what you want. That’s the only thing I ask of you.”

I let the words soak in for a second. The first thing I want to do is stuff all of them back in his mouth, chew them up, and refuse to digest them. But instead I look down at my lap, then at the slippers on my feet, the coloring book in my hands, then back at the elephant parade on the coffee table. “If I try it, can I take it off right away if I hate it?”