Page 29 of Rowan's Renewal
That makes me startle. “What?”
His expression softens and he pulls my hand into his lap, holding it tightly between both his warm palms. “When you relax, you definitely seem to slip into a more…I guess juvenile…headspace. It’s why I said I think you’re more Middle than Little. Are you into stuffies and sippy cups and pacifiers? No. But you do seem younger. Innocent. Sweet and a bit pouty,” he grins and bumps my shoulder with his. “Like a hurting teenager, I guess. I haven’t pushed you to explore it, though, because this is all new for you, and because we’ve been getting to know and trust each other. But,” he gives my hand a little tug and shake, “whether you regress further or not, you’re perfect as you are, Rowan. I’m falling for every single facet of you.”
Swallowing hard, and ignoring the suddenly rapidly beating of my heart, I ask, “But…what if you meet someone at the community center or at that BDSM club you mentioned? Someone more experienced with the lifestyle and regressing?”
He shakes his head, then pulls me in for a hug. His heart feels like it is beating just as quickly as mine. “I don’t want anyone else,” his voice rumbles through his chest as he speaks. “Being with you is everything I’ve been looking for, Ro. I’m falling for you.”
So I didn’t imagine it before. And it wasn’t a slip of the tongue.
Choked up, I bury my face in the crook of his neck. “I’m falling for you, too, Aaron.” Pausing, I lick my lips, then correct myself, “Daddy.”
Chapter Fourteen
Our final night feels heavier than I thought it would. After our unexpected conversation in the morning, we came back to the resort and spent the afternoon cuddling and languorously making out, holding on tightly to each other.
Rowan’s insecurities will take a lot longer than a week to work through, but it still hurts my heart to know that he’s so worried things will fall apart once we get back home.
But those concerns are pushed aside when it is time to leave for our sunset cruise up the river. I worried yesterday when I booked our spots, because the weather had turned and we experienced one of Queensland’s famed summer thunderstorms from our hotel room, but today the weather has been picture perfect and the sky has been clear.
The boat we board is gleaming white and modern, with an open deck and a small cash bar. Five other couples join us, and we all mingle and make small-talk before the captain gives us a mandatory safety talk and then departs from the dock.
It’s almost a lazy meander down the river, and we all peel off into our private bubbles, scattered around the deck. An elderlycouple takes two of the seats facing the helm, content to drink in the sights more comfortably than standing. Rowan walks to the handrail, just off-center from the bow, and leans against the railing, and I bracket him in from behind, resting my chin on his upper back. It might look silly, the shorter of us being the big spoon, but the way he melts every time I take up this position makes it perfect.
In front of us, the sky is turning orange and pink, with a few scattered, fluffy clouds almost appearing purple from the backlighting. The dark, still water of the river glints with the light show above us, reflecting back the golds and purples and pinks from the sky. It’s beautiful, and the murmur of low voices fades away while everyone on board just absorbs the moment.
“Want to take a selfie?” I ask Rowan, barely speaking above a whisper.
He nods, his hair ruffled from the slight breeze, enhanced as it is by the slow push of the boat through the water. I step back and he turns to face me, then I turn my back and press into him, holding up my phone with the front-facing camera enabled. I angle it and we smile, trying to capture the splendor of the backdrop behind us in all its glory.
But when I look at the final shots, it’s not the rainbow of color at our backs which catches my breath. It's the adoration on Rowan’s face.
***
“I can’t believe you upgraded me to Business Class,” Rowan mutters as we settle ourselves into the plush plane seats. “I’ve never flown Business in my life.”
“I wanted my Boy to sit with me,” I shrug. “And I very rarely travel, so why not do it in comfort if I can afford it?”
We’ve not really spoken about our financial situations, but I grew up privileged. Both of my parents were extremely successful doctors before their retirement —my father, Kim Park, a cardiologist, and my mother, Elizabeth Whitman-Park, a neurosurgeon— and I grew up with all the perks you might imagine that entails. Private schools, extracurriculars, somewhat extravagant summer childhood vacations: the works. I’m a trust fund baby, and I am aware that I am extremely lucky for my lot in life.
My father instilled that in me from a young age, having come to the United States from Korea with nothing but a medical degree under his belt. He worked hard to attain the ability to practice in the USA, then built his entire career from the ground up. He met my mother early in his career, at the first hospital where he worked, and he promised her that he would work hard to give her the life he believed she deserved. Being the feminist that she is, Mom told him they’d do it together.
Forty-five years, four children, and a lot of successful investments later, and they are the kind of couple I want to emulate. Happy, in love, and not afraid to work hard to achieve their goals together. But their story also reminds me not to take my position in life for granted. If they hadn’t worked as hard as they did, my life could have looked very different. So I don’t splash my cash often —I don’t drive an insanely expensive car or live in a lavish penthouse, not that there’s anything wrong for those that can afford to and who find joy in it— but when I do splurge, it’s on experiences that make me and the people I love happy.
And, while I know that Rowan isn’t struggling financially, I know that he’s not the kind of man to spend money on Business Class tickets, even if they are far more comfortable for a flight duration of over thirteen hours.
He shakes his head, his cheeks going pink. “How do I pay you back for this?”
“You sit back and relax, sweetheart. Your happiness is all I want.”
“You’re so sappy.”
“I never said I wasn’t.”
He chuckles, then leans back into the padded seat with a sigh, stretching out his long legs. “This issomuch better than Economy.”
I lean around the edge of my own seat —I’ve chosen the aisle so Ro can feel more privacy between me and the window— and peer down the aisle, watching as people grumble and grizzle their way into the tighter quarters in Economy behind us. There, they are sitting three abreast against the windows and in rows of four down the center of the plane. They look squished together. I cringe and turn back to look at Rowan, imagining how he must have felt, stressing about his condition in such cramped conditions.
I don’t say anything about that, though. I just grab for his hand, then bring it to my lips, grazing his knuckles with a kiss as light as air. “I’m happy to give this to you, baby.”
