“Everything’s fine,” I reiterated.
“Say it again with enough conviction that I believe you.” He pulled into the parking lot of the restaurant where we always stopped for dinner on our way back to town, but didn’t turn off the engine after he parked. Instead, he unbuckled and turned in his seat to face me. “Look, I know I’m not the easiest man to work for. I come off as a distant control freak on the best of days, but I’ve seen the changes in you these past couple months. You’re more focused when you’re at work, but you’re also not sending me proofs and revisions in the middle of the night anymore. That tells me things are getting serious between the two of you. Am I wrong?”
Was he? No, but I was reluctant to admit my feelings because of how my relationship with Bradley had ended. I was trying hard to avoid making those same mistakes again. I shrugged and got out of the car. I wasn’t comfortable talking with my boss about how much I hated not being able to ask Matteo to move in with me because he’d think I’d lost my mind or that I wanted even more control of his life. Whether he’d believe it or not, the opposite was true.
What I wanted more than anything was to give Matteo a place where he could be himself all the time without worrying about his mother coming into his room to gather laundry and finding the little clothes he kept stashed at the bottom of his closet or the coloring books stuffed under his mattress.
“I don’t know what you’re so worried about. It’s obvious he adores you,” Denny said once we’d been seated and placed our drink orders.
“And how would you know?” I scoffed.
“Didn’t you read the first few articles he sent John for the site?” Denny asked. I stiffened and swallowed hard. I wasnotgoing to get upset about this. Matteo had told me he wanted to take John up on his offer. Every time he broached the subject with me, I’d brushed him off, not wanting to admit I was hesitant to share my experiences as a daddy because I was much stronger with visual communication than written. Still, I didn’t think he’d have started submitting articles without talking to me first.
Perhaps it was time for us to discuss the rules again. The formality of setting ground rules had always felt stifling to me, but Matteo needed the structure. Until now, I’d found it much more comfortable to set rules as situations warranted, but perhaps that was no longer enough.
“Oh hell, you haven’t seen them, have you?” Denny pulled out his phone and handed it to me after navigating to the website. “Don’t be mad at him. I’m sure he had his reasons for not talking to you about it. Maybe this is something he felt he needed to do for himself.”
“Yeah, maybe.” But I selfishly didn’twanthim segmenting off part of his experience as a little from me. That felt like the first step in him pulling away.
“Go on. Read his latest entry,” Denny urged me.
Daddy Isn’t a Dirty Word
One of the hardest aspects of this lifestyle for me to come to terms with has been calling my partner Daddy. At first, I worried that I was trying to replace my father, who passed away a few years ago, and I thought others would also assume that’s what I was doing. But it’s not. Mychoiceto live this life, to embrace the part of me where I feel most comfortable, has nothing to do with any past abuse or perverted fantasies.
Daddy is one of the most caring men I’ve ever met. He shows me patience when I want to try something new and doesn’t force me to do anything I’m opposed to. He pushes my limits, but also respects them. He takes care of me, lifting some of the burden from my shoulders.
When we first got together, I was a mess. I was convinced I’d never find anyone attractive and I’d found uneasy peace with my fate. But Daddy saw something clawing to get out and took a chance. He could’ve looked the other way. He could’ve allowed his own fears to stop him. But he didn’t because that’s not what good daddies do.
At first, I didn’t understand what was happening or why something as simple as wearing different clothes or playing on the floor with blocks settled me, but it did. Once I found mental peace, I realized I was actually attracted to Daddy. I wanted him, and I don’t mean in any sort of paternal sense.
Now, I’m free to explore my sexuality, knowing Daddy will be there to catch me when I fall. He’s a nurturer, there to guide my way. And yes, sometimes that includes spankings, but I’ve learned even those can be fun.
When I look at Daddy, I no longer squirm or wonder what others would say if they know how hard it is for me to call him by his name. Daddy has never been a formal title for a biological parent; it’s a term of endearment for a man who takes care of those he loves. I can only hope if you’re reading this and trying to come to terms with your little side that you’ll eventually find a daddy who’s as good to you as mine is to me.
I handed the phone back to Denny, trying to breathe around the lump in my throat. If I’d been wondering how Matteo felt about me, those questions had been answered in a blog post he didn’t know I’d read. If it wouldn’t have been rude, I would’ve flagged down our server and told her to bring the check before we’d ordered our meals, because the only thing I wanted to do was get home to my boy and tell him I was the lucky one.
“Feeling better now?” Denny chuckled as I stared at the phone in his hands. The second we were back in the car, I had every intention of reading the rest of the articles my boy had written.
* * *
The final twohours of our drive home stretched into three thanks to traffic. It was after sunset by the time Denny pulled into the parking lot behind his loft. When I offered to help him unload the gear, he waved me off, telling me to go home and spend some time with Matteo. I didn’t bother arguing, afraid he’d change his mind.
As I backed out of my parking stall after making plans to work from home the rest of the week, I noticed a light shining inside the loft. That in itself wasn’t odd; Denny often set a light on a timer so people wouldn’t know he was out of town. What caught my attention was the figure sitting in the window watching us. I stopped the car, ready to insist I go upstairs with Denny, changing my mind when he looked up and waved to the silhouette in the window. I shook my head, wondering how long the two of them were going to pretend there wasn’t anything going on between them.
Matteo texted me every few minutes on my drive from the loft to his house. I ignored the incessant buzzing of my phone and made a note to revisit the topic of patience with my boy. I was just as anxious as he was to see him, but after an entire weekend apart, it wouldn’t hurt him to wait a few more minutes.
That proved a huge mistake when I pulled onto his street and noticed the cars filling the driveway of the modest two-story home. A teenage boy was in the yard playing with a little girl who I assumed was Matteo’s niece. Two men sat on the porch swing watching them as another disappeared through the front door. I pulled to the curb far enough away that it wouldn’t seem suspicious and checked my messages.
8:15Impromptu family night. You may not want to come over.
8:16It’s not that I don’t want you to meet my brothers, but since I told them about you, they’ve been asking questions. They’re a lot to handle all at once.
8:18You’re not mad, are you? Gah, I’m sorry. It’s been a long weekend. I missed you.
I didn’t bother reading the rest of the messages. It was obvious Matteo was coming apart at the seams and needed me. If I’d had my way, I’d have chosen a time when I was well rested and Matteo wasn’t frazzled to meet the brothers one or two at a time, but this was the hand I’d been dealt.
I pulled up in front of the house and sent Matteo a quick text letting him know I wasn’t angry with him for suggesting I not see him tonight. As much as I’d love to make him sweat a bit, I didn’t want his family assuming the worst about me. Before I hit send, Matteo was banging on the driver’s side window.
