Chapter Six

Kent

I wasn’t a little that anyone would ever accuse of being bold or brave. If anything, I was the quiet, shy one in the corner—the one willing to do whatever a mommy or daddy said. In the past, I thought that’s what all caregivers wanted—that or brats to punish. Maybe some did, but things with Thomas were a slap in the face. I had allowed myself to be a doormat and wasn’t planning to do that again. Not now. Not ever.

So, when I went to the club and into the little room, I decided that if anyone caught my interest, I was going to play with them. It didn’t matter if it was another little or a daddy or a mommy—I was going to take that step. I was going to be brave.

I didn’t realize there were stupid rules. Apparently, mommies and daddies weren’t allowed to be there alone. And really, it wasn’t a stupid rule, and I should have realized its existence, given my past experience there. But honestly, Thomas didn’t like to play here much, and coming here alone had never seemed like fun.

When Barrett came in, it was a huge deal. I had been crushing on him so hard. I’d been afraid I was starting to see sides of him that weren’t really there—small things he said or did as we crossed paths, which, thankfully, happened more often than they used to, small things that had me thinking he just might be a daddy.

But I pushed them aside. It was easy to see what I wanted to see. That was how I got into such a disaster of a relationship with Thomas.

When Barrett walked into the little room, it took away any doubt or fear that he wasn’t into the same things I was. Then I heard Ms. Lily remind him that he couldn’t be here unless he was playing, and I knew it was time to act.

I braved going over to him and asking him to play with me—or pretending he was there for me. I don’t even know what it sounded like to poor Ms. Lily. My head was spinning so much from the adrenaline of it all. But she looked in my eyes and agreed, so now he was here…with me.

When he asked me what I wanted to do, I said the first thing that came into my head. I wasn’t going to tell him what I thought he wanted to hear. Been there. Done that.

“Crafts,” had been my answer and minutes later we were sitting at a table making ornaments together. Shiny, happy, fabulous ornaments.

“Look at this glitter.” He held up a sparkly, shimmery one that was almost like snow—not quite white, but close. “I think this would look good with your Christmas village.”

He hadn’t just been nice that day. He had paid attention and he was right— it would also go nicely in most of my house, on my tree or with one of my wall decorations or statues. But he picked the village. Why? Because that was what mattered to me.

“What should we do next?” he asked, looking at the wreaths and trees we’d already glittered up. They were made out of foam and ribbon—nothing fancy—but they were going on my tree nonetheless. They weren’t the only options for crafts, though. There were tons of choices. It was craft heaven.

“Hmm.” I scrunched my nose and closed my eyes, thinking really hard—closer to little space than I’d been in a long time. “We could do a clay house.”

When I opened my eyes, he was shaking his head sadly.

“No. That kind of clay only works for flat things because of how they have to dry. It’ll wobble when it does, too. Even if we get crazy glue to put it together later. I don’t think it’s going to work.”

He wasn’t saying no because he didn’t want to do it. He was saying no because he didn’t want me to be disappointed.

Argg. I needed to stop reading so much into his words, but it was hard—especially when he stared at me with those deep-blue eyes.

“What do you think?” he asked.

I scrunched my nose again. It was a habit. I chose to believe it was cute, but since I never saw it, I didn’t know.

“We could make a snow globe,”he suggested.

“They have snow globe stuff?” How had I missed that?

“Yeah, that’s what those shelves are, down at the end.” He gestured to the other side of the craft area.

I turned to look. “I thought those were the balls you hang on your tree that you fill with glue and paint and stuff.”

“No, those are snow globes. Do you want to make one with me?”

“Yes, Daddy—I mean, yes.” Leave it to me to ruin everything with one word.

He set his hand on my shoulder. “Look where we are,” he said gently. “This is a place where you are safe to communicatein any way you want, to say the words you want. Don’t hold back because you’re worried about breaching some protocol. I’m not that kind of daddy.”

I wanted to jump up and down and squeal. In that moment, he confirmed he was a daddy. It wasn’t just that he was interested in me or why I was there. It wasn’t that he was being neighborly. Could all those be true? Absolutely. But also, he was a daddy and it could be more.

“Yes, Daddy, I’d like to make a snow globe.”

I popped out of my chair, and the two of us walked hand in hand to that side of the room. That’s when I fell really deep into my little space. My memories blurred, but the feelings stayed with me for a long time after our scene was over.

We made a snow globe, and he even helped me pick out little figures that matched some of the ones I already had. We had snacks, read books, and I ate far too many cookies washed down with cider—the stupid cocoa was all gone. It was a great night.

But then, it was time to go. At least for him. He needed to walk his dog. That was a good reason to leave, and no part of me felt like he was making it up. Still. I didn’t like it.

I wanted to ask him to wait for me to get changed, maybe drive home and hang out—have some cocoa.

But I didn’t. I’d been forward enough for one day. Cocoa could wait.

One of the littles asked me to play when they saw my daddy for the night leave. I agreed, not wanting to look creepy by following him home. It was fine. But I didn’t stay very long at all. I wasn’t in the mood anymore, not after coming out of my little space.

Next time, I would ask for what I wanted, just like I had earlier today. I was liking this new side of me. I hoped Barrett did too—because I wasn’t going to act like that doormat I was before. Not ever again. Next time I got a daddy for real, he was going to get the truest me I could give him. He deserved that, just like I deserved a daddy who didn’t cheat.