Page 35 of Soothed By Daddy
“Dating. You. Me. Continue.”
It was all too much for me to process right now. Tea was fine, but this much brain power needed coffee, and if I put on a pot right now, my sleep schedule would be blown to smithereens for days. I was too confuzzled to think properly about anything right now.
“Cool. I’m going back to bed.” I turned on my heel and headed upstairs to my bedroom. Cyrus stayed at the door. The feeling of being watched was unmistakable, but he stayed put.
“You coming, Daddy?” My voice came out lower than I meant, almost daring him.
“Yeah, baby, I’m coming.”
EPILOGUE
CYRUS
Six Months Later
“You got that shim?” Tye’s voice pulled me from my thoughts.
After I moved into George’s side of the house, I started working on his playroom. Tye came over to help me finish the final touches today. George helped plan the whole room, but I wanted the full effect to be a surprise. Since he had a proper Daddy more regularly, Georgie came out to play more often and I loved every second of it.
Months ago, I couldn’t have imagined the domestic life coming my way. We did everything we used to do as friends—going out to dinner, picking up the fresh flowers we both loved, taking evening walks through the neighborhood, watchingAbbott Elementary(me) orLand Before Time(him) on repeat—but it was also about all the other things too.
We’d met each other’s families and become group chat official. I donated my chest pump for good because there was no longer a fallback need. When I needed to express, George was ready and willing. Sometimes it was sexual, but half the time it was lazyevenings hanging out on the couch while he nursed and watched cartoons. And now, he’d have a playroom.
“Earth to Cyrus. Quit daydreaming about your boy and hand me the shim,” Tye said, clearly annoyed.
“Yeah, sorry.”
I tossed the wooden block to him so he could finish leveling the antique cabinet that was being fitted into the alcove. According to George, he wanted a playroom without the bright primary colors and more in line with the age of the house. I hadn’t known much about designing, but I could read a plan and follow instructions.
“Have I said thank you for helping us find someone to make this happen?”
“Ha! How many times are you gonna say thanks? I told you Owen was a fucking rockstar designer. And it only took two weeks for me to ask Nico for his contact info. That tiny man didn’t scare the shit out of me.”
“What’s your deal with him? Nico seems nice.”
Tye stopped his work and stared me down. I could feel myself getting defensive. “What? He does!”
When he came by with Owen, he’d been professional and friendly. He’d marveled at the work we’d done so far and made remarks about understanding how a playroom could feel overwhelming. George and I had both liked him.
“Yeah, that’s because he was with Owen. No one is allowed to be mean around him, but Nico on his own? Fucking terrifying.”
“I think it’s a you problem.”
“This playroom is going to be an us problem if we aren’t finished by the time George gets home.”
With the threat of disaster hanging over us, we fell into compatible silence as we worked side-by-side to finish the room. Owen’s sketches and instructions were so detailed and well-organized that his expertise was felt even though he wasn’t in the room. I hadn’t expected the friends-and-family discount from him, but I definitely appreciated it.
After a solid two hours of work, the room was finished. The repurposed antiques, or affordable reproductions, looked as if they’d been in the room since the house was built. We’d decided to keep the hardwood floor, but we’d patched the rough spots and then waxed the whole thing. The result was a preserved patina with a lived-in look. The mural, created by my coworker who thought George adored his nonexistent nephew, depicted dinosaurs in soft colors that matched well with the gauzy, sheer curtains. Any light available on cloudy days would find its way inside.
“Okay, that’s it,” Tye announced after attaching the last screw to the black iron daybed pushed against the wall. “Anything else to finish?”
“Nah, I just have to make the bed and put out a few things.” I set aside the bags I’d dragged out of the closet. “You need me to help you do anything downstairs?”
“It’s only a few things, I’m good. Having a furnished apartment makes my life easier because I don’t have to worry about finding furniture. It’s nice to have more space than my tiny bedroom in the shared house. That front bay window is going to work so well for all my little plant babies.”
“George is glad that he’ll have a reliable tenant again. The last one flaked and moved without notice.”
“Yeah, all the way across the hall and into his bed. I bet he was pissed.”
