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“Hmm…” His thinking sound was so dramatic I grinned and imagined him tapping his chin like he was in a movie and was being told to act thoughtful. “Daddy?”
So, maybe little?
“Yes, cutie?” Waiting to hear what he was thinking, I climbed off the bed and gave myself a pat down to make sure I had my keys.
“Chicken nuggets probably aren’t date food.” It wasn’t actually a question, but I treated it like it was as I slipped on my shoes.
“Yes, they are.” Assuming he meant McDonald’s and not something fancier, I answered with that in mind. “Happy Meals and sauces to dunk them in make it fancy. That makes it a date meal.”
He giggled and I was imagining him shaking his head. “No, that’s silly.”
I scoffed, rolling my eyes and giving him a very dramatic tone. “I’m Daddy. I get to make the rules. That’s what the paperwork said when I went to Daddy school.”
That got me more laughter, but it pulled him back closer to his grown-up mindset. “You’re ridiculous.”
“I’m Daddy.” It was my prerogative to be ridiculous.
“McDonald’s? Really?” He wasn’t trying to talk me out of it, but he seemed to be compulsively double-checking to make sure I knew what he wanted.
It was a fast food restaurant, not a torture chamber like one of those fancy restaurants that served you foam and made you pay a hundred bucks for it.
“Cutie?” I waited until he sighed and made a quiet acknowledging sound. “Do you want a toy too? I’m even going to spring for extra sauce packets so I can steal some from you for my fries.”
A giggle came through the phone before he took a deep breath and pulled his little side back again. “Yes?”
Clearly some guy had made this all kinds of dramatic in the past, but I ignored the giant elephant in the room and gave him a beaming smile even though he couldn’t see it yet. “Perfect. I’m going to head your way right now, and if you’re very good and eat your apple slices, I’ll get you ice cream too.”
Hmm.
“As long as it’s not broken. I’m not magic.” That got more laughter from my cutie and it seemed like he finally lost the last of his fears. “No one can predict the ice cream machine status. It’s a mystery.”
“You’re insane.” The smile in his voice said he liked it, though. “Hmm, how big of an ice cream?”
Cheeky boy.
****
“Okay, I have to ask…” Ian dunked one of the extra nuggets we’d gotten with his Happy Meal into the barbecue sauce and then honey mustard. “What did you mean when you told the apartment manager you were going to be working in antiques?”
It was the grossest thing I’d ever seen, but I was a badass Daddy and focused on the topic at hand and not his questionable dipping habits.
Where had he picked that up?
His friends were clearly bad influences.
This was definitely Eli’s or Emerson’s fault.
“Um, what?” Pulling my eyes away from the monstrosity he neatly bit down on, I focused on my own food and remembered what he’d asked as he giggled. “Oh, work. Honestly, I don’t know, but they needed to know something and I didn’t want to discuss my finances in too much detail. She’s weird.”
Very smiley and she kept patting my arm.
Ian snorted and choked on his nugget. Coughing, he finally managed to catch his breath after drinking some of his milk. “She likes you.”
Huh?
“What?” She was like eighty.
Ian went back to laughing, so I had to assume he was telling the truth. “That’s…”
I didn’t have a polite word for it, so I just let the sentence trail off as he snickered. “That’s…I love it.”
He was such a brat I stole some of his barbecue sauce since that hadn’t been polluted yet. “You’re evil.”
Little Ian would not have been this disruptive in McDonald’s.
“Sorry.” He sat up, trying to hide his laughter but it wasn’t working terribly well. “I can understand why you didn’t want to overshare. But was that something you were thinking about? Because I have to warn you, Eli wants you to model.”
Now that was scary.
“I appreciate the thought, but I’m not sure I have the temperament.” I really didn’t want that drama aimed at me and Ian seemed to understand that based on the giggles that had come back.
“Oh, I get it. I do.” Getting ahold of himself took a minute and another god-awful bite, but eventually he was grown-up again with a thoughtful expression aimed at me. “But work? Have you been thinking about it?”
“Thinking yes, planning no.” I shrugged as I reached for another fry. “It’s logical.”
He cocked his head and gave me a very Cohen look. “I’m not asking if it’s logical. I want to know how you feel about it.”
He was so cute.
“I don’t know how I feel about it.” I wasn’t sure I had enough figured out for an honest response to make any sense, but he knew what I’d dealt with before, so I gave it my best shot. “I’m tired of running from what I’m good at.”
