Page 42 of The More the Merrier

“Johannes, you don’t have to tell me…”

“Nee, it’s okay. I miss her every day. But it’s been years, and I’ve learnt how to deal with the guilt and the sadness. When she wasn’t cleaning up after the boss and his family, she was a writer. She worked with a lady in a village outside the city. Together, they wrote children’s books. She created fairy tale worlds at that desk, and no matter how hard I try, I can’t get myself to pack things up.”

His words are breaking my heart. This scary-looking man is actually soft, so very soft and vulnerable.

“I take it she’s the one that got you into Christmas?”

The smile transforms his face. His eyes light up and when he looks down at me now, the ghost of grief is gone.

“Ja!She adored it. We’d spend days in the kitchen with the cook back then, baking cookies. Nights were spent in front of the fireplace stringing popcorn to decorate the tree. And until I stopped believing, she’d leave footprints in the powder on the floor so I’d think Santa had stopped by.”

I couldsorelate. Until I’d been adopted, I’d never known a decent Christmas, but after my parents took me in, they went out of their way to make it special for me. It makes me happy to know Johannes had that, too.

“Can I ask you something a tad personal?”

“Ja.But in the kitchen, so you can eat.” His gruff response is more like what I’d expect coming from someone that looks like him, but I now have a better idea of the man hiding underneath that hard exterior.

I follow him down the hallway, back to the lounge and through the entryway to another archway I missed yesterday. The kitchen is small but serviceable for a cottage this size.

“I have some pie and mash with liquor.”

When I pull a face at him he laughs and lifts up the domes from the plates waiting on the table. There’s the plate of lunch, as promised, but next to it is the most adorable croissant I’ve ever seen. It’s been folded into a dragon shape with big chocolate button eyes. I immediately sit down and grab for it, but before my fingers can reach the delicious and beautiful-looking pastry, Johannes puts the dome back on top of it. I quickly snatch back my fingers and scowl at him.

“Nope, Little Mouse. Lunch first, then dessert. We had a deal. Two proper meals a day. You’ve skipped breakfast already so you have to do lunch and tea tonight.” The smug look on his face is a tad annoying, but the sparkle in his eyes is attractive and I can’t quite keep hold of my scowl.

“I had breakfast, though. You fed it to me.”

He lifts his eyebrow at me, somehow conveying an entire conversation with that one look. I deflate and grab the cutlery to start on the meal.

“Juice or tea? Or milk?” he asks, walking to the fridge.

“Milk, please.” I take my first bite of the pie covered in thick aromatic liquor and moan in pleasure at the taste. Johannes clears his throat behind me and I look at him in question.

“Uhm, do you want to have it in a glass?”

“What else would I have it in?”

He rubs the back of his neck and looks at his feet before responding to me.

“I… uhm, saw your stuff. At your flat. So I ran to the shop and got a few things… while you were sleeping, so I uh… got you a sippy cup. I just don’t know if you want to use it now… or?”

Oh. My. Gosh.

I cannot figure out what the heck it is that I’m feeling right now, but I know I want to jump him and give him kisses and cuddles so he will stop looking so darn uncomfortable.

Instead, I take a moment to weigh my feelings. He already knows about my Little side. It’s pointless trying to hide it. And I don’t really feel embarrassed about it, either. But I’m not a hundred percent sure if I’m comfortable going there in front of him yet.

“I appreciate the gesture, big man. And I’ll definitely take you up on the offer. But not today,” I say with a soft smile, hoping he gets the message. He relaxes a bit and smiles back before turning to the fridge to grab the milk.

Soon a tall glass of milk is placed on the table, but before I can thank him he plops a Nesquik straw in it and I can’t help the giggle that bubbles up. When I smile at him, he’s hiding his face in the fridge again.

I don’t understand how I can fall in serious like with one man so quickly. All I want to do is crawl into his lap and call him Daddy. Something I hope he won’t have a problem with because I’m close to asking if I could have him for Christmas. Instead, I focus on finishing my lunch and admiring the dragon before gobbling it up. Before I know it, he’s grabbing my plates, loading the dishwasher and leading me up to the main house.

Andre, here I come.

Chapter 8

Zanya

---