Page 216
“You live here?”
Kerry’s shocked question pulls a laugh from both me and my wife. “Yes, little one,” I answer her as we make our way up the wide front steps. “Part of our compensation package was your Uncle Max helping us build the house of our dreams. Complete with a nursery for our very own Little girl.”
Nose wrinkling, she shakes her head. “I’m not that Little.”
Glancing over, I share a knowing look with Celeste who ducks her head to hide her smile from our babygirl.
Since my arms are full of our sweet Little girl, Celeste pushes the door open to reveal the stunning foyer with its curved staircase and sleek iron handrails.
“Oh my gosh, this place is gorgeous. These floors alone must have cost a fortune!”
“They did,” Celeste confirms, pausing to tap Kerry’s pert little nose. “And they’re very slick, so no running in the house unless you want a sore bottom.”
My palm physically itches as I watch Kerry roll her eyes. “I’m not an actual child, you know. I don’t need rules about things like running in the house.”
“Then you won’t need to worry about getting your bottom spanked for running indoors.” Pausing at the bottom of the steps, I pin her with a stern look. “Now, apologize to Mommy for rolling your eyes. That was not very polite, little girl.”
Pink blooms on her cheeks. “Sorry, Mommy.”
“It’s all right, angel. But don’t make a habit of it, or there will be consequences.”
“Yes, Mommy.”
A soft smile stretches across my wife’s face as she reaches up to brush a stray lock of hair from our angel’s cheek and my heart trips at the sight of her looking so happy. I know Celeste loves me, and even if we’d never found a Little one of our own to share, we would have lived long, fulfilling lives together.
But I also know that Celeste needs to be needed in a way I would never have been able to need her. And the same is true for me. We’re both caregivers at our core, and as much as we love each other, the painful truth is that something was always missing.
Kerry. Kerry was missing.
Tightening my hold on our Little girl, I press a kiss to her hair and start up the stairs toward her nursery.
“Your room is here, but Mommy and Daddy’s bedroom is right down the hall,” I tell her as we stop in front of a plain white door bearing a colorful sign that says Kerry’s Nursery. The words are a bright, bold orange—Kerry’s favorite color.
A fact that doesn’t go unnoticed by our babygirl. “The sign is orange!” she squeals, reaching out a hand to run her fingers over the painted letters. “My favorite!”
“We know,” Celeste says with a laugh. “Your Uncle Max gave us plenty of useful information about you. Like your favorite color… and your favorite animal.”
The door swings open and Kerry lets out another loud, happy squeal. “Otters!”
Thankfully Maxwell’s intel was right, because we may have gone a tiny bit overboard with both the orange and the otters. While the walls themselves are a pale cream, every accent is some shade of orange, and paintings of otters hang everywhere. There are no less than fifty stuffed otters of various sizes in the netting hanging in one corner of the nursery, along with one exceptionally large otter in her crib.
“Daddy, put me down! I wanna play!”
Our Little girl is sinking deeper into her Little space, and while I couldn’t be happier about that, I have one more surprise for her before I let her down to play. “In a few minutes, angel. We need to get you changed into something more appropriate.”
“But I wanna play with my otters,” she whines, wriggling against my hold.
The sharp sound of skin meeting skin reaches my ears and I realize Celeste has given our babygirl’s bare thigh a swat. Tears pool on Kerry’s lashes as her bottom lip trembles and she rubs at her leg.
“Little girls listen to their Daddies without arguing and whining, Kerry Addison. Are you ready to be a good girl or does Daddy need to spank your bottom before he changes you?”
Sniffling adorably, Kerry nods. “I’ll be good.”
Fucking hell, she’s going to be the death of me she’s so goddamn cute. “All right, angel. Mommy’s going to pick out a clean dress for you while Daddy gets you ready.”
“Oh, I can dress myself. You don’t need to do it.”
I carry her over to the changing table—also decorated with hints of orange and plenty of otters—and lay her down on the soft mattress. “You are far too Little to get dressed by yourself, angel. Let’s get these yucky grown-up clothes off so you can be more comfortable.”
