Page 50 of Born Daddy

“Sweetheart, I don’t think he loved anyone. Perhaps not even himself.”

Tate rested his cheek against Rogan’s chest, and Rogan held him in silence, letting his head rest on the top of Tate’s. After a few moments, he gave Tate a light jostle.

“Hey. What do you say we order some pizza now? We’ll keep the conversation open while we wait, but I’m concerned that you haven’t eaten yet.” Rogan kissed Tate’s head before he realized what he was doing. “Being hungry can make it harder to think straight. I know that’s true for me.”

Tate nodded against Rogan’s chest. “For me too. It might not look like it, but when I’m not nervous, I eat a lot.”

“Lucky.”

A snort-chuckle burst out of Tate. “Yeah, pizza sounds good.”

After going through the options of toppings, they decided on a large sausage and mushroom pizza, along with a Caesar salad they could share. He also ordered a liter bottle of soda for Tate, since he didn’t drink beer.

Tate had already settled himself on the couch with his legs tucked under him and was leaning against the sofa arm. He’d grabbed the throw pillow from the corner and was clutching it to his middle. Rogan’s gaze traveled between the easy chair and the couch. He decided on a compromise, which consisted of the opposite corner of the sofa. That way, Tate wouldn’t feel as though Rogan was purposely avoiding him, but would also give Tate some space.

Tate regarded him with his doe-eyes that were slowly driving Rogan crazy. “What do you think was in that book?”

Rogan didn’t need to ask which book Tate meant. “From the way they were framing their questions, I’d say Cam was recording his thoughts and-or activities in some degree of detail. How much, who knows. And whoever this person Jace was, he has some meaning as well.”

Tate sighed. “I’m not sure how I feel about all that. When they asked me about Jace, it brought back how I used to tell myself it didn’t matter if Cam was cheating on me, that I was the one he came home to and took care of every day.” Tate clutched the pillow tighter. “Maybe he was seeing Jace on the side, or maybe he was getting ready to order me from the house so he could move Jace in to take my place.”

Anger boiled beneath the surface of Rogan’s skin. Whatever Daddy relationship Tate thought he’d been having with Cam sounded shitty, didn’t sound at all like the basic info Rogan had uncovered about the dynamic, or even close to what Tate himself had explained what having a Daddy meant to him. If he was Tate’s Daddy, he’d make sure Tate always knew he was the only one and that everything about him was important.

“Honey, I think you’re giving Cam characteristics he wasn’t capable of, feelings he couldn’t conjure up. I doubt he was rhapsodizing on paper about this mysterious Jace, pining for him in long, flowery passages.”

Tate gave him a lopsided grin. “You’re right. I don’t want to talk about that asshole anymore. With each day that passes, I realize I was clinging to an idea I had about our relationship rather than the reality. I suppose it goes back to when I was in foster care. I kept seeing what the family I was with could be, rather than what they were.” He tilted his head. “I just wanted to belong, you know?”

Rogan nodded, suddenly sorry he’d chosen to sit so far from Tate. “Yeah. I know. We all want that.”

Tate held his gaze, smiling at him softly and Rogan wondered if now was the time to bring up what was building between them, this hint of what they could be and whether they ever should be.

Rogan opened his mouth to speak, but snapped his jaw shut instead. Food first. He didn’t want them to be interrupted at the wrong moment by a delivery guy.

As if on cue, a knock sounded at the door and Rogan excused himself to grab their food. Tate had already jumped up to help, but Rogan told him to sit down and relax, that he’d take care of everything. He figured it couldn’t hurt to start testing whether this Daddy thing would work for him on a more mundane level.

Sure, it had always been in his nature to come to the rescue, he’d always been there for friends and family taking charge during even the most minor of crises. But assuming that role on an ongoing basis would take a minute. And he had to be real with himself. He might quickly get tired of the responsibility.

“Here you go.” Rogan handed Tate his pizza on a plate. “I started you off with two slices.” He then set down a bowl on the coffee table. “Here’s your salad, but there’s plenty more of both if you’re still hungry.” He cleared his throat as he straightened. “You just let me know if you want anything else and I’ll get it for you.”

Tate’s eyebrows arched and his jaw went a bit slack as he stared up at Rogan. “Uh, sure.”

Rogan tried to keep his expression as impassive as he could. “Do you take ice in your soda, or do you prefer it without?”

“Ice, please.”

Rogan gave a jerky nod. “Ice it is. You go ahead and start eating while it’s hot. I’ll be right back with your drink and some napkins.”

Rogan waited until he’d turned away before he cringed. He’d sounded so robotic and unnatural. While he poured Tate’s soda, he forced himself to take several breaths to get hold of himself. He’d never been one to give up, and this compulsion—this pull to be Tate’s Daddy—had claimed him and wouldn’t let go.

That didn’t guarantee he wouldn’t suck at it, though.

Rogan gathered up the glass and paper towels then made his way back to Tate. He noted Tate had the plate carefully balanced on his lap, and that he was sitting with both feet planted on the ground, his posture straight. Rogan also observed that Tate hadn’t taken a bite of his food.

Rogan set the drink on a coaster next to the salad then offered Tate a napkin.

“I thought I told you to start on your pizza?”

Confusion radiated from Tate’s features as he peered up at Rogan. He clutched the plate as if it might sail across the room of its own accord and he was chewing his lip with his eyebrows pinched together. Pizza and soda were fun. Tate appeared as if he were being tortured. Rogan dropped on the cushion next to him.

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