“My sweet boy had a plan.”
“A possible plan.” If Pax had something on his mind, we could do that, too. As long as we were together. “I thought we should have a nice meal, some smexy after-dinner together time, and then tomorrow…tomorrow, we could have a little day.”
“I love everything about that.”
That was the one thing about renting this place out that had been rougher on me than I realized it would. There were always people around, and I was always on call. I didn’t mind, but there were sacrifices that came with that, and one of them was that I wasn’t as able to express my little side as fully as I wanted to. So on days like this, we tried to take full advantage.
We ate dinner, spent the night in each other’s arms, and then the next morning when I woke up, I stayed in bed, holdingOscar close and waiting for Daddy to wake me up. That was our routine on little days. He’d come in and let me know it was time to get ready for breakfast. Then, after a quick trip to the bathroom, we would eat together. Today was no exception.
“Tubby time?” Daddy asked when my belly was full and the dishes clean.
“My favorite time of day.” At least now it was.
The bathroom had not been great when I moved in here. The tub was a glorified shower, the water pressure mediocre at best. I had fixed by someone else, because I loved a good bath and it would have taken a lot longer to do it myself.
Daddy set the water temperature, put the bath bomb on the side of the tub, then helped me get undressed.
“Duckies, animals, or boats?” Animals were separate because they were squeeze toys and sprayed water across the room if I wasn’t careful, whereas the rubber duckies were just rubber duckies.
“Could I have all of them, Daddy?”
“You can have whatever you want.”
He turned off the water, and I kneeled by the side of the tub. “Is it time? Is it time? Is it time?”
“It’s time.” He ruffled my hair. “Go ahead.”
I picked up the bath bomb and tossed it in with a plop. It was blue and sparkly, and as it fizzled, a treasure was about to be revealed. I wasn’t sure where Daddy found them, but these bath bombs not only made the water super soft against my skin and prevented me from drying out if I stayed in too long, but inside of them was always a toy capsule. I reached in to grab it, only to discover it was still fizzing away.
“You have to be patient.” He ruffled my hair again, and I leaned into his touch.
“I’m not patient! I want my prize.” I pouted.
“Why don’t you count to five and try again?”
I did, counting loudly, and, when I reached in this time, it was just the capsule.
“Open it.” I held it out to him, and he squeezed the capsule.
This time, instead of being a little figurine like normal, it was a ring. But not like an engagement ring. It was too big for that, and Daddy was great about details. This ring would slide right off my ring finger.
Suddenly I wasn’t so little anymore. There were times that would bother me, but this wasn’t one of them. I had a ring in my hand, given to me by my daddy. Conversations needed to be had so there was no confusion on either of our parts about what this meant.
“What is this, Pax? It’s not like one of those jewelry bomb things, right?” It hadn’t been wrapped in foil, so that had been my assumption, but I wanted to make sure.
“No, it’s not like that at all. I had it made for you.”
“What finger is it for?”
He pulled his hand out of his pocket and showed me his. It was on his pointer finger. “This one.”
“What does it mean?” I wasn’t trying to be curt, but I was on the cusp of being overwhelmed and it was the best I could do.
“I’m doing this so wrong.” He kneeled down beside me. “I saw a couple of daddies that share these with their littles. They’re… They call them ‘Daddy and Me’ rings, but they’re technically couple rings. One day, I’d like to put a ring on your hand—on this finger”—he tapped the third finger on my left hand—“but I promise you, I will not give you that while we’re taking a tub. Imagine telling that story to my mother.”
I had to laugh because I could imagine it, and it would be hilarious. Not that I wanted to test that theory. “I think she would like it. Put it on me.”
He slid it on.
