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A sigh escapes me and my eyes fill with tears. Yeah, this is what I feared. First, men judge me for my body. They think I'm too malnourished to function. And then, when I muster up the courage to tell them about my condition, they leave.
If I put myself in their shoes, I can't blame them. Why would they invest the time with a troubled boy when they could find someone healthy? There are so many things I can't do—like drink coffee, caffeinated soda, or eat tomatoes. It's sad, and Constantine's comment about my body only makes me feel less than normal.
I run the pad of my thumb over my fork. "It's my body type. I can't do anything about it."
Constantine says nothing. There's something on the tip of his tongue, but he bites it back.
"Eat, cutie." He nods at my plate. "I love skinny boys. But I want to see you gain at least ten pounds before this month is over. It's a matter of health."
I blow out a breath of relief. Okay, this is all right. Constantine doesn't dislike my body type. He's worried I don't have enough nutrients to stay healthy.
This is what good Daddies do. Constantine's looking out for you.
Lifting my fork and knife, I cut into my waffle and funnel a bite to my mouth. I test it with my tongue, poking the yummy breakfast food, tasting the sweetness. I close my eyes and let out a moan as the taste overwhelms me.
This is…heavenly. There's no other way to describe it. Biting into these healthy, home-cooked waffles makes me want to sprout wings.
Constantine takes a sip of coffee and directs his eyes to me. "Is it good, boy?"
Bliss rockets through me and makes me want to do a happy dance. "Yes!" I exclaim, collapsing in my seat. "This… is delish. You'll have to teach me how to make these."
Constantine pushes the bowl of bananas and strawberries toward me. "It's easy, boy. All you need is whole wheat flour, sea salt, organic sugar, a few chopped nuts, vanilla extract, and baking powder as a rising agent. Then you pop it in the waffle iron, and voilà."
I point to the waffle. "Are your waffles always hearts?" I keep my voice soft. I'm curious if Constantine uses this waffle iron every time he makes this meal or if he pulled it out for me.
Constantine chuckles. "No. Most days, I use my circular iron. This is a special waffle iron I bought for someone, but he never liked it."
I furrow my brow. This doesn't sound good. This is like Constantine had someone special in his life who didn't appreciate his caring and protective side.
Curiosity latches a hook into my soul. "Was it your last boy, Daddy?"
Constantine lets out a sigh and rests in his chair. "We don't need to get into that right now. But yes, that's why I bought it. He wasn't a fan of cutesy things, so I never got the chance to use it."
I stare into Constantine's hazel eyes and force myself to stay in my seat. I'm the first boy Constantine's ever used this waffle iron with. The fact that his former boy didn't enjoy cute things makes me happy.
But at the same time, I can't help but focus on the mystery of Constantine's confession. Who was his ex-boyfriend? How long did they date? How old was this boy when he and Constantine were together?
A million questions swirl through my mind, but there's no way I'll ask them right now. I file these queries away in the storage unit of my brain, concentrating on the present. Living in the moment matters. I want to prove to Constantine that we're a good fit. Not fix upon the past.
I scoop up bananas and strawberries from the fruit bowl, then place them on my waffle. I'm about to dig in for another bite when I get a silly idea.
"Look." I can't help but giggle as I rearrange the bananas and strawberries into a special design.
"What is it, boy?"
I spin my plate around to show my creative design to Constantine. "It's a smiley face, Daddy." I can't help but blush shyly. "I'm happy you made this breakfast for me. My belly is happy, too."
Constantine looks at my smiley face. "God, that's adorable." He swirls his spoon around his mug of coffee. "You're so stinking cute. Do you know that?"
I squeal and hide behind Mr. Green. "Brain malfunctioning. Get back to me later."
Behind Mr. Green, I feel safe and protected. My stuffed animal has always been there for me, and he's helped me get through years of bullying and social ostracization.
But today, I hide behind him for another reason. Constantine makes me feel better than anyone in my entire life. My body is hot and flustered, and my cheeks are so pink that I feel like I'll catch fire.
Constantine taps three fingers on the table. "You're adorable. Your smiley face made my day."
"Mr. Green speaks for me now. Please direct all your compliments to Arlo through him."
