I give her ass a smack before setting her back on her feet. She stares up at me, eyes wide, cheeks flushed that beautiful golden rose. I stroke her cheek with my knuckles to feel the silky heat before I pick up the bags again.
Since I won’t let her carry anything, she links her arm through mine and tucks against my side as we walk back to the Memorial. Once we rejoin the rest of the group, Logan grabs a few bags so they’re distributed as we walk to Bow Bridge. None of us let the littles carry anything. I get it; it’s not sexist. This is daddies caring for their littles.
Warrin’s caterer has thought of everything. One of the bags even contains a plaid blanket, coated with plastic on one side. Cynnie and Emily help me spread it out on a flat spot under a tree. Cynnie takes a couple of selfies as we unpack the picnic. Always staged, flashing the peace sign. I notice she’s careful not to get anyone but herself in the shot. She hasn’t taken many pictures today, but I guess the picnic is irresistibly picturesque.
What I find picturesque is the group of littles who cluster on the blanket, surrounded by their daddies. Warrin stretches on his side as we eat, creating a backrest for Aggie to lean against. Sammi snuggles into Jack’s lap. Emily tucks against Logan’s side, feeding him grapes while he cuts fried chicken into bites for her.
Watching them all, feeling insulated from censure, I catch Cynnie’s eye and pat my thigh.
With that golden blush pinkening her cheeks and nose, she climbs into my lap and settles against my chest.
“Can I pick?” she murmurs to me.
“Please do. I like everything but coleslaw.”
“No coleslaw?” She clutches at her chest in mock dismay while picking meat and olives off an antipasti board and popping them on plates. “How can you have a picnic without coleslaw?”
“Meh, cabbage,” I tell her.
She giggles and piles coleslaw onto one of the plates. Better not be mine.
“Baby,” I say gently. “Is coleslaw okay for you?”
Cynnie freezes mid-scoop and looks at Warrin, who nods. “Rhoda knows about your allergy. Everything’s dairy-free.”
“Fank you,” Cynnie says before loading the plates with two different kinds of chicken salad.
That’s the first time I’ve heard her lisp since we arrived at the park. Is she being big because we’re in public? Or is she withholding an aspect of her littleness to punish me for being angry at her? Another thing we need to talk about.
But not now. I can just enjoy the warm summer day, my lapful of little, and the good food that Cynnie starts feeding me.
As we eat, Emily polls the littles about what they want in their ideal nursery while Logan takes notes on his phone. I listen attentively at first but after Sammi describes the fiftieth stuffie down to the color of its fur, my attention begins to wane. Then I realize Emmy’s gone around the circle of littles a couple of times and Cynnie hasn’t volunteered anything.
“Isn’t there anything you’d like in a nursery?” I ask her.
She shrugs. “Seems stupid.”
I take her hand, set down the fork she’s eating with, and fold her hand in mine before bringing it up to kiss her knuckles. “Remember I said we’re going to save the deep talk for later and just have fun today?”
Her dark eyes lift to mine. She nods.
“Talking about what you’d like in your ideal nursery isn’t stupid. It’s fun. Imagine your ideal play space. If it was me, I’d need lots and lots of pillows to roll around in.”
She grins. “Me, too.”
“What else?”
“A cage crib?” she offers hesitantly.
I let my eyes flare with the heat that thought brings. “Mmm. Sounds fun. A cozy cage crib. Would you like to sleep in it all the time?”
She shakes her head. “Just for naps and time outs. It’d be nice and safe, and no one could get in unless I let them. But at night, I want to sleep with you.”
“I’d like you to sleep with me at night, too. What do you want in your cage crib other than lots of pillows?”
“I liked the nest you made last time. With all the blankets. Lots of layers to burrow into. Only it needed more stuffies.”
“Ah,” I say. “My place does have a serious lack of stuffies. But there’s one more now than the last time you visited.”
