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“I’m not sure. Like what?”
“How old is she? Does she need a crib? Or a Little girl’s bed? A pacifier? A bottle?”
Shit.
She worried at her lip. “I don’t think I need a crib. I guess maybe around three or four. I . . . like the idea of a bottle sometimes though. And I have tried a pacifier at home, but it felt a bit weird.”
“Because you were on your own or the feel of it?”
“Both, maybe?”
“We can try different types. And I think a bottle would help you relax, especially before a nap or bedtime.”
“Nap?”
“At three or four years old you would still need naps.”
“I don’t think I do.”
“And an early bedtime,” he went on. “Maybe a rail on your bed. And potty reminders.”
“Potty reminders?” she said, her voice strangled. “I don’t need potty reminders. I mean . . . toilet reminders.”
Shoot.
Her bladder chose that moment to tell her that it had been a while since she’d gone to the bathroom.
Why? Why was her body out to betray her?
He eyed her. “You need to go right now, don’t you?”
“Maybe. But that does not prove your point.”
He snorted. “I think it does. You’re terrible at reading your own body’s signals. When you’re hungry or cold or need to go potty. You let it go to an extreme. That’s where I come in. And why one of your rules is to dress for the weather. No going out without your coat or hat or gloves in winter, Little girl. Not unless you’re banking on your hot ass keeping you warm when I get hold of you, anyway.”
Oh, holy heck.
What had she gotten herself into?
“Come on. Potty time.” He lifted her off his lap and took her hand in his, leading her to the bathroom.
He even walked in with her.
“What . . . what are you doing?”
“Helping you.”
“I don’t need any help going to the toilet.”
“Maybe big Greer doesn’t . . . but be prepared for Daddy to help you with all things when you’re in Little headspace.”
Shoot. She might be in real trouble here.
And the thing is . . . she thought she was going to like it.
After washing up, she looked around the small bathroom at the toys the boys had left.
It didn’t feel quite right . . . being here. Like she was invading someone else’s space. Could she really let her Little out freely here? And was it fair to make Hack stay here with her . . . to sleep on the couch or in Ethan’s small bed when he had a perfectly good house of his own?
