Page 61 of Viking Ink

“Sounds reasonable to me. But you cooked last night, so it’s my turn tonight—and as your Daddy, I’ve decided it’s fish and chips.”

Rhys moved forward, kissing me before moving off the bed towards the dresser. “I’m beginning to think that you’d find any excuse for fish and chips, love.”

Shrugging, I got up and followed him. Looking through the dresser, I pulled out another soft pair of sweats and t-shirt, handing them to Rhys. I loved seeing him in my clothes when we were relaxing at home, and luckily Rhys seemed to like wearing them.

“What can I say? I have weaknesses. Fish and chips is one, and cute boys with spanked bottoms is another.” I leaned forward, giving Rhys’s bottom a playful tap and earning a cute growl.

“Nope. You smack this arse, things happen, and we’re back to being covered in come and still not out of the bedroom.” Rhys grabbed the clothes from my hand and bolted to the bathroom, laughing.

As days went, today had been as close to perfect as I could have imagined. After a breakfast of eggs on toast, we’d thrown on jackets and wandered down to the pier. It was blowing a gale, but the sun was out and the pier was quiet. The seasonal visitors had left as soon as the weather had started to cool, leaving only the locals venturing out.

Rhys wore his bear beanie and a thick woollen scarf, his nose red from the cold but utterly kissable. I’d never been a romantic sod, but maybe I was mellowing in my dotage.

“Da—Simon, look. One of the concession stands is still open, can we go play?” Rhys bounced on his heels with excitement.

I hadn’t missed his slip. “We can, Ree.” I lowered my voice, leaning in close. “I don’t mind if you want to regress a little bit, baby bear.”

Rhys buried his face in his scarf, blushing. “Are you sure?”

“I am. Come on baby bear, let’s see if we can win something.”

Half an hour later and ten pounds lighter in cash, Rhys was skipping holding a giant Minion stuffie. I could barely see my boy behind the giant yellow plush toy. He bounced excitedly as we headed towards the doughnut stand. Rhys had been adamant that he would die if he didn’t get a bag of hot doughnut balls.

The beachside park had begun to fill as the day progressed. The wind had died down and the skies cleared, and the beach started to fill with people taking advantage of the break in the weather. The cold grey skies and freezing rains of winter were not far off.

Sitting in the small gazebo out of the wind, I watched as Rhys demolished eight fresh, hot doughnut balls, marvelling at how he could eat so much. His lips were covered in cinnamon sugar and his cheeks were puffed out like a cheeky chipmunk. Pulling out my phone, I caught him mid bite, his eyes sparkling and cheeks rosy.

“Can we go along the water’s edge, Daddy?” He stood, brushing himself down. His Minion, who he had informed me was called Kevin, sat on the bench waiting to be picked up, Before pocketing my phone, I saw that Mitch had texted back, scrolling through his jumbled message I got the drift that he’d bake a cake, and hell yes for a party. Now I just had to find the perfect birthday gift for my boy.

Rhys’ eyes ended up being bigger than his belly and by the end of the afternoon. I’d had to carry him the last few feet home while he clutched his belly whimpering softly, while at the same time stating there was no way he could have just stopped at the doughnuts when there were all the food carts to try.

When we got home, I got him changed and settled on the sofa, but my poor baby bear was miserable. When I laid my hand on his stomach, the skin felt hot and slightly distended. I rubbed soothing circles and felt Rhys relax under my hand.

“Daddy…Daddyyyy, I’m dying.” Rhys’s voice was mournful.

I rubbed a hand over his belly. “Not dying. baby. You just ate too much junk food today.”

“Nuh-uh” he shook his head, eyes screwed in pain, “My belly is going to explode. I’m dying.” He sniffled, clutching Mr Ted mournfully.

“Yuh-huh, baby. You just ate too much sugary stuff and your belly is not happy with you. Do you want Daddy to keep rubbing it?” I lifted Rhys’s legs and sat down, then laid them back down on my lap. Rhys’s belly had started to ache halfway through his hot dog and by the time we’d gotten back to the flat he’d been a whimpering mess.

“I did eat lots, but there was so much good stuff to eat. Owie. Daddy rub, please?” He sniffled.

“Hmm, you did. I think you got a bit excited with all the food stalls down on the shore.” Rhys, having been long denied the experience of seaside sideshows and stall food, had overindulged, and I couldn’t blame him, but now my poor boy was suffering for it.

“Daddy, need pop.”

I let out a huff. Lifting Rhys’s legs, I got up again. “Okay baby bear. I’m going to go get pop and a blanket, then you can sit and watch cartoons while I get some sketches done for a client.” I’d not planned on working this afternoon, but it seemed like the perfect time. I could sketch and keep an eye on Rhys. Perhaps he would be able to nap, and hopefully he’d feel better once he woke. I felt mildly guilty about enjoying being able to baby my boy, but this was the shit I loved. Caretaking, babying my boy, that was the shit that got all those feel-good chemicals in my brain flowing.

Yeah, I was as happy as the proverbial pig.

“Hurry Daddy, I’ll get lonely.” Rhys warbled from behind me. Fuck, could he be any cuter?

In the end I didn’t get any sketching done, too caught up in watching my boy—long lashes sweeping down in sleep, the slow rhythmic pulls of his pacifier as he slept. My sketch pad lay alongside me untouched as I watched my boy with the soft sounds of cartoons playing in the background.

This was everything.

Chapter 18

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