He returns with sweatpants and a t-shirt. Both are way too big for me, but soft and smelling like him.
"Thanks, Daddy."
His jaw clenches. "You're welcome, baby girl. Get dressed. Dinner should be just about done. I put it in the oven before you called me in.”
I change quickly, rolling the waistband of the sweatpants so they don't fall down. The t-shirt hangs to my thighs. I quickly knot it just above the sweatpants.
When I emerge, Tyler's plating chicken and vegetables.
"Feel better?" he asks without looking at me.
"Much better. Thank you for letting me use your shower."
"Anytime." He finally turns, and his expression softens when he sees me swimming in his clothes. "You look good in my things."
"I look like I'm playing dress-up."
"You look like mine."
The possessiveness in his voice makes my breath catch.
We eat at his small dining table, and the conversation flows easily. He asks about my day, about the shop, about whether I've thought more about the pricing discussion.
"I did," I admit. "And you're right. I need to raise my prices. I'm just scared."
"What are you scared of?"
"Losing customers. Not being good enough. Failing."
"Those are all valid fears. But let me ask you something, what's scarier? Raising prices and maybe losing a few customers, or running yourself into the ground because you're not making enough money to sustain the business?"
Put like that, the answer is obvious.
"The second one."
"Exactly. So, we're going to make a plan. Tonight. Together." He clears our plates. "Now, let's talk about your pricing structure."
We spend the next hour going over my costs, profit margins, and what competitors charge. Tyler pulls up spreadsheets on his laptop, helping me calculate what I should actually be charging.
"You've been operating at basically no profit," he says, frowning at the numbers. "Chloe, how have you been paying yourself?"
"I... haven't been. Not really. I take what's left after expenses."
"That's not sustainable. You need to pay yourself a salary. A real one."
"But what if there's not enough?—"
"Then we adjust your prices until there is." His voice is firm. "You're not running a charity. You're running a business. Act like it."
The words should sting, but they don't. Because he's right.
"Okay. What do you suggest?"
We work through the numbers, and by the time we're done, I have a new pricing structure that's higher than my current one but still competitive with other local shops.
"It feels like so much," I say, staring at the numbers.
"It feels like what you're worth. There's a difference." He closes the laptop. "I'll be there when you implement it. I'll remind you that you deserve this every time you doubt yourself."
