A little smile flickered across my lips before I could stop it. Now that Daddy wasn’t selling the hotel, Sam was actually nice to him.
The sparkly princess looked over at my Daddy. “Mr. G? Sir? May I please play with your dolly, too?”
Daddy took his time before answering, looking at me with warm eyes that felt like the gold bits sparkled just for me. I didn’t know what he was looking for, but I knew for sure I didn’t have to worry about it. I was having fun. It was quiet fun, and maybe it wasn’t “fun” so much as… as enjoyment? But I wanted this languid, easy feeling to continue, and I knew that whatever Daddy decided, he would make that happen.
The other Littles at the table seemed to come to a consensus about something, and after mumbling something jumbled to Sam and the sparkly princess—both of whom shook their heads—they all rushed off, leaving just me and Sam and an abandoned doll, tipped over in one of the chairs. And the sparkly princess.
I didn’t feel abandoned, though, or even left out. I felt… perfect. Everything was perfect. The joy of getting to play with Sam without the more familiar feeling of being in an awkward social situation where I didn’t know the right thing to do. The heady intensity of Daddy’s eyes, possessively roaming over my body and constantly checking in on my face. The lush tension, the hard-not-hard discipline, of holding myself completely still and staying wherever I was put.
“What is it you want to play?” Daddy finally asked the princess.
The boy grinned, his eyes lighting up. “Fairy princesses! I can do your dolly’s makeup and paint him so he’s pretty!”
“He’s already pretty!” Sam said, jumping to his feet.
The sparkly boy’s eyes widened. “I… I know. He’s very pretty. I just meant…doll-pretty.”
I wasn’t sure if I wanted to be painted.
Daddy looked around the room thoughtfully, and the tiny frisson of worry I’d felt at the painting idea dissipated right away. Daddy wouldn’t give an answer that wasn’t right for me. He would know that I wouldn’t like a stranger scribbling all over me, like some of the Littles were scribbling on coloring books. Their wild lines bore no relationship to the pictures beneath at all, and that was fine for coloring books. And ifDaddyever wanted to scribble all over me, or paint me, or decorate me in any way at all, that would be fine, too.
I darted my eyes toward the princess, sucking on my lip for a minute before I remembered that I was a doll.
I let it go. I didn’t want a stranger playing with me that way, though. Not even a princess in a tiara.
Daddy started to shake his head when a deep voice interjected from somewhere outside my vision.
“If it helps to know, my pretty princess is a professional makeup artist. You’d think he’d get enough of this during the week, but apparently he can’t get enough.”
The voice went soft and fond at the end, and Daddy smiled, that same fondness on his face for… forme.
“He’s adoll,Daddy!” the princess said, tugging on his Daddy’s arm while still staring wide-eyed at me. “I mean… look at him! He’sperfect.”
He sounded awed, and even though it wasn’t anything like hearing my Daddy call me perfect, hearing it still lit me up inside. I wasn’t doing anything at all, and just like this, just being still, he thought I was perfect.
I didn’t think I’d ever had so many people think I was perfect at once in my life. Or even one at a time. Not ever.
Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if the sparkly boy painted me.
“Alright,” Daddy agreed, his eyes twinkling like he’d come to the same conclusion. “You can play with my doll.”
“Thank you!” The princess darted off and returned with an oversized plastic purse. He dumped it over on the table, brushes, tubes, and jars rolling everywhere. “Eep!”
“Baby, you’re going to have to clean that up,” his Daddy scolded, his lips twitching under his beard.
“I know, Daddy. But it’s a real, live dolly!” the princess gushed, turning to me. “And I get topainthim.”
His grin was so big that Sam started to giggle. “How will you paint him?” Sam asked, scooting his chair closer.
The princess rolled his eyes. “Like adoll.”
His Daddy frowned. “Be good.”
Sam didn’t seem to mind, though. He just put his chin on his hands, elbows resting on the table, and stared at me happily.
“But what kind?” he asked the princess without taking his eyes off me. “A rag doll? A Barbie? A sparkle fairy?Princess Celestia?”
None of those sounded right, and I searched out Daddy’s eyes. I knew it wasn’t up to me, and that was okay. But… but Iwasn’ta rag doll, with garish red cheeks. Being a sparkle fairy felt like too much, but being a Barbie doll sounded intriguing.
