Page 14 of Daddy's Little Chaos Gremlin

The look in his eyes was guarded when he did, but I hoped he’d see, by the way that I was smiling at him, that it was okay to tell me these things.

“I don’t like deli meat, either,” Tristan blurted, sticking out his tongue.

Now that threw me. He’d never mentioned anything about it before. “Really? Why didn’t you ever say anything?”

“With everything else you’d already provided me with, I didn’t wanna ask for anything more.”

Stunned, I just sat there staring at him. “But that was years ago.”

“I know.”

“Tristan?”

“I’m sorry, Daddy. You already do so much to make it so I can focus on my art,” Tristan explained. “And it was such a little thing, to me, since we don’t have a lot of sandwiches except in summer and when we have soup.”

Yes, he did have a point there. I employed a chef for a reason, one of which being that neither he nor I were very fond of spending time in the kitchen. I knew enough that we’d never starve, but no one would ever refer to some of my culinary concoctions as masterpieces, though I was proud to say that I could pull them together without the aid of a box. When Theo had responded to the advertisement I’d placed for a chef notlong after my business had really taken off, I’d been shocked at the diversity displayed in his credentials and wondered why he hadn’t opted to open his own restaurant rather than become a personal chef.

Man, had he schooled me about all the things that went into that kind of business venture. Not only in the area of capital needed to ensure that a place had up-to-date equipment, but in the man hours he’d need to put in.

Being a personal chef means that I get to do what I love and have a life, unless you plan on hosting dinner parties seven days a week. In that case, you might want to think about hiring a battalion of chefs and providing them living quarters as they’d never have time for anything else.

We’d laughed at that, because I was way too hands on with the day-to-day operations of my security firm to ever consider entertaining that much. Hell, I didn’t like people enough to want to subject myself to that much socializing, though for my boy, I’d learned to play the host for one social event a month. That was more than enough peopling for me.

It turned out that Theo adored that once a month time to flex his chops and really wow the art community that came to see what Tristan was unveiling next. Some of the meals had been talked about as much as the artwork, including some of the soups he’d crafted over the years and oh, did that man love to cook seafood. He was going to enjoy having Zephyr around.

“Switching away from deli counter meats will be an easy adjustment to make,” I said, ending anymore debate about the subject.

I’d send Theo a text later, so he could dispose of what we had and stock up on sufficient quantiles of the meat we’d need. And bacon. I might be in the minority, but I loved thick slabs of sizzling, maple smoked pork layered between the cheese and meats on my sandwiches.

“Are there foods besides snack foods that you try to avoid, or that bother you?” Phillip asked.

“Pasta,” Zephyr blurted, scrunching up his nose. “It’s already heavy without sauce and then once the sauce is on, I can’t eat more than a tiny dish before I feel bloated. It feels like it stays in my tummy forever, too. I never eat it before I have to perform.”

“Another thing that’s very good to know,” I said, an idea beginning to form. “Would you be able to provide me a list of good pre and post-performance foods, as well as things you like and don’t like?”

“I-I can do that,” Zephyr said.

“And maybe even a schedule of how you like to position your meal and smoothie rotations,” I continued, keeping my voice encouraging.

I needed him to know that this was important to me and would not in any way make him a burden. Then I saw him glance between myself and Phillip and lick his lips before his eyes darted to my chest.

“It’s okay,” I said, covering his hand with mine, which easily dwarfed it. “He’s a member of The Brotherhood, too, as well as my personal physician. He’s the one who provided me with the certifications of health I showed you.”

His mouth formed a little ‘o’ then he broke out into a wide grin.

“Then is it okay if instead of smoothies in the morning and before bed, I got to drink from you?” he asked.

“It is more than okay,” I told him, preening now.

I was thrilled to know that he wanted more of my milk and I couldn’t wait to provide him with more tonight. This morning I’d pumped while they’d been outside conducting their shoot, and it had been nowhere near as pleasant of an experience as feeding them the night before.

“If you’re nursing from Rowan, you might find that you no longer need the protein powder you were using,” Phillip said. “Have you ever fed from anyone on a regular basis before?”

“Regular, no, but whenever I’ve had the chance to, I always felt really good afterward, just like with having my smoothies,” Zephyr explained.

“Sounds to me like the three of you have a good plan to get you started,” Phillip said. “So how about I take a listen to your heart and lungs, check your blood pressure, and your blood sugar, too, as well as get your weight. We can do a follow up visit next month, just to touch base and see how you’re feeling, and take it from there.”

“I-I don’t know if I’ll still be here in a month,” Zephyr stammered, glancing over at me.

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