Page 131 of Daddy P.I. 3.0

After I see them out, I beckon Emily out of the subbie pile and draw her to the side.

“Something go wrong between Amy and Theo?” I ask.

Emmy bites her lip. “No.”

I narrow my eyes at her. “Spill, little girl.”

“Well, you know how Max used to do bad hacking things and now he does mostly good hacking things and only bad hacking things for a good cause?”

I’m not sure I’d characterize Max’s online activities that way but I nod.

“So, he’s like a morally gray hacker,” Emmy continues.

“Sure,” I say, not knowing where this is going.

“Amy’s also a hacker, only she’s a completely ethical hacker. Max calls her a ‘white hat,’ but I don’t like to use that term because it correlates purity with color and that kind of language promotes racism ... anyway, Amy’s helping Max with the hacking and I don’t think they want Master Theo to know.”

I nod along but what I take away from this is that the Littles’ Army has its own hacker.

“In any given situation, little girl, how many definitions would you say there are of ‘good’?”

She gives me the owl-eye. “Is this a trick question?”

“No. I’d like to understand if there’s a Daddy version of good, a little version of good, and a Littles’ Army version of good.”

Instant angry koala face. I knew it.

“Let me be clear, little girl. If the mommies and daddies find out that Amy has been hacking chats or whatever else in furtherance of Littles’ Army plans, there will be hell to pay and I don’t care if Amy doesn’t currently have a caregiver. I will administer that punishment myself. This is a safety issue.”

“So, when you say—” Emmy begins.

“No, this is not the time for qualifications. Are we clear? Amy doesn’t do any type of hacking that would prevent the mommies and daddies from monitoring the Littles’ Army plans and ensuring you’re all safe.”

Emily scrunches her face up further but slowly nods. “Okay, Daddy. That means we don’t ever get to surprise you with anything, though.”

“A situation that’s extremely good for my blood-pressure, little monkey. Don’t you want to put on a movie for everyone?” I nod at the big screen on the wall, currently dark.

“You don’t think that’s disrespectful?” Emmy asks, her tone hesitant. “I don’t want it to seem like we’re having a party when Fleur’s so badly hurt.”

Sweet baby. I kiss the tip of her nose. “No, it’s not disrespectful, baby. I think it will help keep everyone’s spirits up so we can give Fleur the support she’s going to need. Put on something you think everyone will enjoy.”

Emmy nods. “Goose movie.”

I’m not sure what the goose movie is but I send her on her way with a pat on her panda-onesied bottom.

When Theo arrives, it’s with the good news that the district attorney has agreed to issue warrants for five of the identified Wolfpack members. The Doms cluster around the dining room table, listening to Theo elaborate, while I wake Livvy for a feed and her bath.

Taking care of my daughter calms and centers me the same way taking care of Emily does. It’s the same set of core needs: to care and to protect. But there’s no lingering shame. Emily’s helped me unpick my caregiver needs from my sexual needs. Even topping Lucy and Cappa outside the club has helped separate the two. As I smile down at Livvy, and she coos and burbles back at me, I realize this is another gift Emily has given me. A future with my daughter without doubt, without fear that the feelings which tainted my adolescence might haunt my future.

I lean down and rub noses with Livvy as I dry her and put her in a fresh diaper and onesie. “Your mommy, the mommy of your heart who is the only mommy you’ll ever know, is a wonder and we’re going to spend our lives making sure she’s the happiest little wife and mother there’s ever been.”

Livvy burbles in confirmation and grabs at my nose.

I carry Livvy downstairs for good nights. Checking on the subbies, I find several of them already dozing. Sammi’s completely out, curved like a string bean in his green onesie between Bren and Lucy. I approve of the containment. Yummy’s up on the couch under one of Emmy’s fuzzy blue blankets. Austin’s yawning as he watches a gaggle of geese run around after a girl on the TV screen. Emmy, Moon, Justine, and Laurel are painting each other’s toenails. When Emmy sees me with the baby, she hops up and waddles to me on her heels, keeping her iridescent toes, trapped between bright pink foam spacers, elevated.

“Good night, Livvy-bit.” Emmy takes the baby from me for a cuddle and a kiss before handing her back. “You’re okay putting her down, Daddy?”

“I am, baby girl. And you have earned such a big reward.”

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