Page 21 of Milk For The Billionaire's Little

I set the table with colorful divided plates, and laid out the utensils decorated with puppies from a popular cartoon and a folded blue cloth napkin with stars stitched along the edge. Next to the plate, I placed the new stuffie I’d picked out: a soft, brown hedgehog with bright button eyes and a tiny fabric bowtie.

It wasn’t Rosco, of course. But it was Rosco-adjacent. And maybe James would like having a cuddle version of his little guy.

The doorbell rang, exactly on time.

I opened it and there he was, pet carrier in hand, looking a tiny bit nervous and a whole lot stunning. He had a tote bag slung over one shoulder.

“Hey,” he said sweetly. “I think Rosco would like to not be moving anymore.”

“Of course, sweet boy.” I reached for the carrier. “Come in. I’ll show you where it is.”

Having a purpose was good. If I stopped to give a tour, I had a feeling this place would feel every bit the square footage it contained. We’d get to that, once he was more comfortable with the setting. At least that was my plan.

We got Rosco settled in.

I kissed James’s cheek. “Would you like to change into your Little clothes before dinner?”

He nodded shyly. “Is that okay?”

“It’s more than okay. I set up the guest room with your things. Come on, I’ll show you.”

I didn’t love the idea of the guest room, but I’d read that it was good to have a separate place for your Little for them to be alone if they wanted. I’d ask him after tonight if he liked it that way or not. This was a learning curve for me.

He followed me, his hand brushing against mine before slipping into it completely, fingers twining. When we reached the guest room, he gasped.

I’d laid everything out on the bed—a few new Little clothes I’d picked out just for him. A soft onesie in pastel blue with tinystars. Matching knee socks. And a hoodie shaped like a dinosaur, with fabric spikes running down the back.

“You got me presents?”

I cupped his cheek. “Of course I did. I saw them and thought of you. I wanted you to feel special tonight.”

“You didn’t have to…”

“I wanted to.” I kissed his forehead. “Go ahead and get changed. I’ll wait downstairs.”

There would come a time where I would want to help him get dressed, but we’d discussed it, and easing into things felt like our best choice for now.

By the time he padded into the kitchen, he looked like every bit the darling Little I’d hoped to see tonight. He wore the blue star onesie and socks, his hair slightly tousled. The stuffie tucked under his arm made my heart feel too big for my chest.

“You look adorable,” I told him.

James blushed and peeked up at me. “Thank you, Daddy.”

I pulled out his chair, and he climbed in, carefully settling in with his legs swinging just above the floor.

“You made dinner?”

“I did.” I set the plate down in front of him and handed him a sippy cup filled with juice. “I hope it’s okay.”

“Nuggies! And happy peas!”

I chuckled. “And mac and cheese. I even remembered to put it in its own section, away from the ketchup.”

“You’re the best, Daddy.”

We ate together. He nibbled while making dinosaur sounds, kicking his feet. I let myself watch him, soaking in every bit of the delight he gave off.

After dinner, I led him to the least formal living room. I’d moved the coffee table out of the way and laid out a thick blanket and pillows on the floor, with another soft blanket draped over the back of the couch in case he got cold.

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