Page 45 of Losing his Daddy

I pushed away the urge I had to rush things and focused on my dominant side. It knew what Gerald needed more than my eager emotions did.

“While that may have been the plan, life doesn’t always go the way we want. And I’m not rushing you in any way. We have all the time in the world.”

Chapter Eighteen

Gerald

We decidedto evaluate things for two full weeks before making a decision. I loved the idea, but I also hated it. Two weeks did not feel like long enough to get to know myself better. At the same time, it also felt way longer than necessary.

How had I reached my thirties without knowing who I truly was? I should’ve been secure in my identity by now. Not having the answers left me feeling bereft.

During the first day of keeping track of my feelings, I noticed how giddy I felt in the times leading up to seeing Weston. I originally thought it was from the crush I had on him. With my focus on evaluating my feelings, though, I realized it was only partially because of that.

Deep down, I enjoyed knowing that I was getting to take care of him. It was knowing that he would be pleased with my presence, and with whatever food I brought him.

I didn’t know what to make of the realization. Instead of dwelling on it, I focused on writing down every emotion in my notebook. The spiral bound pocket size bundle of paper had become my best friend. I had it on me at all times to ensure that I could catch things in real time.

By the third day, it was obvious to me that I did very much enjoy taking care of him. It wasn’t just knowing I was doing a good job. It was being able to feel a sense of accomplishment. I felt like less of a failure whenever I was getting things done.

I was reminded of my time on the ranch with those thoughts. Because even back then, I loved having a checklist. The guys used to make fun of me for it. I was so uptight about things, and that I had to note it all down.

How could I have forgotten about that part of myself?

I knew the answer, of course. When Clancy became sick, I had to step in as his caregiver. My entire focus was on hospital stays and medication. There was no time to create a checklist. And there wasn’t much of a need for one. We formulated a routine and kept it damn near till the very end.

Being back in a position where I could sync into my task minded way felt great. So great, in fact, that I didn’t much worry about things around me. Whatever I couldn’t handle, Weston made sure to take care of it.

My boss, and my inappropriate crush, had turned out to be even more amazing than I originally thought. After our discussion about him being a Dominant, I noticed how true it was. There were things he did, little things, that my brain had glossed over.

Like opening doors for me. And being closest to the street. He never forced me to be anyone that I wasn’t. I had full confidence that he would have my back no matter what came our way.

During the day, my tasks were focused on the house. I cooked, and I cleaned. I ran errands that he often gave to me in my preferred list format. I would make sure he had his lunch whether it was delivery or from a personal visit. It was a wonderful system that I had come to understand created a thriving environment for my service-oriented desires.

Evenings were a different story. After my near relapse, he began coming home earlier. He wasn’t always able to quit working; however, more often than not, he would tuck away his phone and laptop to simply sit with me on the couch.

He would always tell me to pick whatever show I liked best since he rarely watched television. And as we sat side-by-side on the couch, his fingers would lace with mine. The first time he did it, I felt jolted at the contact. In the nights since, I’ve looked forward to the moment his body is pressed against mine, even at just that one small point.

We also have dinner together in the evenings. No more late-night dinners at the office. It’s made his staff speculate things. He told me as much himself one night.

“They all think I’ve gone mad. Or that I’ve begun a new relationship.”

I shook my head. “And what have you told them?”

“Nothing, obviously. While I am quite open with my staff, they have no need to know my personal life so in depth. Not when I'm still working on knowing it myself.”

The reminder that we were in a limbo of sorts didn’t terrify me as much as it should have. I knew better than to get involved with Weston. There was not a future that could work out between us. Not in my mind, at least.

I had seen firsthand what a relationship with a — power dynamic, I think he called it — looked like. There was only one true winner when someone held the power. And unfortunately, it was never me.

But that didn’t mean that I wasn’t open to the idea of learning about myself. If there was one thing I intended to do before my time with Weston came to an end, it was to uncover the true nature that was within me.

Who was Gerald Grimes? And what did he love? What did his future look like?

Those questions ran through my head in a loop, often filling the space between tasks as I worked on my to-do list each day. I couldn’t complain. Not really.

For someone who had been near death less than a year ago thanks to self-medicating with alcohol, I was lucky to be alive. Even luckier to be thriving in a well-paying job with a man who wanted nothing but the best for me. The luck became unreal when I added in the fact said boss also desired to have a romantic relationship with me AND that he would wait for me as long as I needed.

Talk about swoon worthy.

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