“Nope, I said I hated cooking, but I never said I couldn’t cook.” Jasper looked crestfallen at my words. Shit. Note to self: boys in little space might be a tiny bit more sensitive than they are in big space.
“I sorry.”
“Sorry for what? You’ve got nothing to be sorry about. I forgot to tell you a secret when I said I hated cooking.”
Jasper eyed me suspiciously. “What ’ecret, Daddy?”
“I do hate cooking—with one big, giant, enormous exception.” Jasper waited patiently for me to finish, his eyes wide with anticipation. “Except when I’m cooking for anyone named Jasper. When I’m cooking for a Jasper, then I love it.”
“Daddy!”
“Yes?”
“I’s a Jasper!”
“You are? Well, shoot, you should’ve said something. I would’ve cooked for you sooner. Scooch off my lap, sugar. I’ve got a Jasper to cook for, and I want to get to it.”
For the first time since I’d arrived at his doorstep, I saw the light come back into Jasper. His smile was genuine, and the sparkle returned to his eyes. When he giggled at my little pushes, I knew the Jasper I’d seen earlier was on his way back to me.
The thought that popped into my head was: if Jasper needed his little time to process sadness or hurt, then I damn sure wanted to be the soft place he landed.
Saying I knew Jasper at all was generous. We’d hung out a grand total of twice. Had shared dinner once. But that didn’t matter one damn bit to me. There was something about Jasper that called to me. Fate? Lust at first sight? Hell if I knew, but it was there. It had never before occurred to me to feel protective over someone, and I was ready to go scorched-earth on whoever had hurt Jasper today.
Another rumble from his tummy brought me back to the here and now, and I tapped his thigh to get him up since my gentle pushes hadn’t worked. This time, Jasper moved off me, and I was able to stand and stretch my legs.
“Sugar, do you need to go potty?” Jasper flushed beet red. “We all gotta go sometimes. You need some help, or you got it?”
“Gots it.”
“Okay, but make sure you get your hands washed too, okay?”
Jasper gave me a look that saidI’m little, not gross, which earned him a wink. While he headed down the hall to the bathroom, I went into the kitchen to scrounge something up for dinner. In the fridge, I found shredded rotisserie chicken, a bunch of cilantro, and some naan bread. By the time he came back, the oven was heating, and I was halfway through assembling our dinner.
“I hope you like barbecue chicken flatbread.” Jasper smiled and nodded, but he didn’t say anything.
One of the articles I’d read said that while in little space, the adult gets to explore parts of themselves they don’t normally show the world. In Jasper’s case, I wondered if that meant his little self was quiet and reserved while his public self was outgoing and bubbly. My knowledge of psychology was limited to a 101 class in college, but it was still interesting to consider.
“I help?”
“Sugar, I never turn down help in the kitchen. How about you put the cheese on for me?” I finished grating and slid the plate over to him, along with the bread. He carefully spread the mozzarella, shifting pieces back and forth until it was as even as he could get without counting them by hand. When he pushed the plate back toward me, it was with a proud smile.
If it took helping him count pieces of cheese to get him back to happy, then I guessed we were gonna count them out.
“It’s been forever since I watchedLady and the Tramp.Thanks for picking it.”
Jasper’s smile glowed at the compliment. After dinner, he’d picked the movie and then climbed into my lap when I’d settled on the sofa. With his blanket and his baby, he spent the next hour and a half watching his show. Like before, he hesitated to suck his thumb until I guided it to his mouth, and that’s when the tension melted from his body.
“I likes it.”
“You’ve got some good taste, sugar.” Jasper attempted to smother a jaw-popping yawn and quickly ducked his head to hide it. “I think it’s time for me to leave so you can get some sleep. You’ve had a long day.”
“’Tay ’ease,” Jasper whispered.
“What’s that, sugar?” With his head hidden against my chest, I struggled to understand him clearly.
“Daddy gotta ’tay,” Jasper said with brows knitted.
“You want me to stay with you?”
