I take her hand and lead her to my office.
She looks around as we enter. “You have so many computers.”
“Most of those are just monitors, Baby. There are a lot of things I keep an eye on.”
She wanders closer. Only one monitor is open right now, and I wonder whether she’s going to realize where the cameras for the individual locations are set up.
She stares for a long time, her eyes moving around the large screen. “This is the inside of your apartment.”
“Yes.” I lean a hip against the desk a few inches from her.
She points toward the one that’s on my nightstand. “You were watching me sleep…”
“I was.”
Autumn folds her arms as she examines the others. “Mace, you have a camera in damn near every room.”
I want to reach out and touch her, but she’s a bit prickly. I’m not surprised. Luckily, she hasn’t turned and slapped me yet. We’re standing here for a reason, though. The monitor that shows every angle in my home was open on purpose. I wanted her to see that she will rarely be out of my view. It wouldn’t be fair to keep that detail from her any longer.
Eventually, she’s sharp enough to home in on the one room she has not seen yet. She leans in and stares directly at that panel. “What room is this?”
I push off the edge of the desk. “Come. I’ll show you.” Taking her hand, I guide her to the room that’s attached to my office. Both have separate entrances from the hallway, but I had a connecting door built in.
Ready or not…
With a hand on the small of her back, I open the door and usher her inside.
Two steps in, Autumn freezes. She doesn’t make a single sound as she looks around.
I stay behind her in the doorway, waiting.
After what seems like an eon, she starts moving. Not glancing at me a single time, she shuffles from one thing to another while I try not to panic.
Eventually, she returns to me. Her arms are crossed in a protective way as she tips her head back. “I’m trying to make sense of all of this, Mace.”
I shrug as if it’s not a big deal. “It’s like the sippy cup and the entire cupboard full of dishes I have for a Little girl. I’ve been prepared for a while.”
“But this room is lavender, Mace. You painted the walls lavender. I know you didn’t do that while I was sleeping. It would smell of paint in here.”
Gripping the frame on both sides, I nod. “I believe my subconscious was influenced by a certain someone I dreamed of claiming one day. I knew she liked purple, so I painted the room lavender.”
“If my father hadn’t died two nights ago, I might have never come here, Mace.”
“I like to think you would have. But you’re right. I never entertained thoughts of pursuing you. I didn’t dare consider asking my mentor’s daughter on a date. It seemed disrespectful. I feared he would not appreciate my feelings toward you. I didn’t have a single clue if you were Little or even interested in me. My entire infatuation was based on fantasy. And it was under that illusion that I painted this room lavender and purchased a lot of things in shades of purple.”
She spins around, putting her back to me, her head moving slowly, indicating she’s taking in every aspect again. I’ve unsettled her. I knew it was a possibility. It’s pretty strange that I had this room designed with her in mind long before I knew she was even attainable.
I look around, trying to see it through her eyes. The furniture is white: a desk and chair, a loveseat covered with pillows, all in shades of purple, a small table and chairs for art, puzzles, or games. There’s a lavender rug in the middle of the room that matches the paint, and shelves filled with books, toys, and dolls. It’s not entirely full. After all, I had no idea what my fictitious Little girl might want in a playroom. Autumn can finish it with anything she likes. If she doesn’t turn tail and run.
She’s rooted in her spot, not shouting at me, so I finally approach from behind and wrap my arms around her.
“It’s kind of eerie, Mace.”
“But do you like it?”
She sighs, her shoulders dropping. “I love it.”
Thank heavens. “You can change it anyway you want. After all, like you pointed out, I could have eventually met a woman who wasn’t you, and she might have preferred pink. I would have simply painted over the lavender.”
