Effortlessly, he does exactly that, picking me up and perching me on his thigh, the rough denim of his jeans pressing into my sore bottom as I stare at Mommy through a blur of tears. “I’m s-sorry I was n-naughty, Mommy.”
“My sweet girl.” Stepping forward, Mommy cups my face in her hands and rains kisses all over my face. “It’s all forgiven now. Come on, let’s go get you into a diaper and some clean clothes so we can all go downstairs and eat some breakfast. How do chocolate chip pancakes sound?”
“Pancakes!” I cheer, my tears instantly drying up.
“Sloane, she’s never going to learn if you spoil her after a punishment.”
But Mommy only rolls her eyes and leans in, brushing her nose against mine until a giggle bubbles up inside me. “Nonsense. You can’t spoil a baby. And today is a special day, isn’t it, babygirl?”
“Why is it a special day?”
“Because we have your Daddy back and it’s our first day as a proper family.”
My heart trips in my chest as I twist to stare up at Daddy. “Yeah. I guess it is a pretty special day.”
Despite his exasperation with Mommy wanting to spoil me with chocolate chip pancakes, Daddy smiles down at me. “A very special day, indeed.”
Pushing to his feet with me still wrapped in his arms, Daddy carries me down the hall to the playroom where he brought me that first night and lays me out on the adult-sized changing table. My heart feels like it might pound out of my chest whenMommy holds up a diaper covered in frolicking pink puppies and hands it to Daddy.
I’ve missed this. Even though I fought them over the diaper, I’ve missed being Ethan’s baby. Missed how tiny and delicate it made me feel to be so easily manhandled by him, especially in moments like this. There’s a vulnerability to being so very small with someone, and I think that’s what I was fighting the most.
But now, as he wraps me in the soft cotton, trapping the heat of my recent spanking against my skin, I know this is where I was always meant to be.
Ethan
The restof the morning passes with fairly little drama. Mia earns herself another spanking, this time from Sloane for getting an attitude when told to clean up her toys, and later a five-minute timeout for not coming to the lunch table when called. But as far as I’m concerned, that’s all just growing pains. Getting used to a new dynamic, a new house, new rules, it’s all a lot for a Little girl to take in at once, especially one as Little as Mia.
But overall, we all settle into our new familial roles rather easily.
Too easily, maybe.
So when it comes time to put Mia down for a nap, I insist on her sleeping in “her” bed in the playroom, and when she’s finally asleep, I point my wife in the direction of our bedroom. Once inside, I close and lock the door before turning to face Sloane.
“All right, Sloane. Time to come clean. How thefuckdid this happen?”
Eyes wide, Sloane blinks rapidly. “What do you mean?”
If it were anyone else, I might be willing to buy that sweet innocent act. But I’ve been married to Sloane for ten years and I know better.
Crossing my arms, I match her stare with one of my own. “You have about thirty seconds to tell me the truth, Sloane Marie. Thewholetruth.”
For a moment, I think she’s going to cling to that feigned innocence. But then she sighs and runs a hand through her hair. “Could we go get a drink? I think I need a glass of wine for this discussion.”
“It’s the middle of the day, Sloane.”
Shrugging, she turns and reaches for the doorknob. “It’s one drink, and neither of us have anywhere to be.”
I don’t really have an argument for that, so I follow her out of the bedroom and downstairs, where she pours us both a generous glass of her favorite red wine. With the baby monitor on the coffee table between us, we settle on opposite ends of the couch.
A fitting metaphor for our marriage up until this point, and my throat aches with the distance.
Staring down into her wine, Sloane blows out a breath. “Okay. Total honesty, yeah?”
She glances up and I nod, my heart threatening to pound right out of my chest. “Total honesty.”
“I’m never going to be enough for you.”
The brutal truth of it stabs at my chest. “Sloane?—”
