Page 73 of Born for Lace

Ask him to leave...

He won’t mind.

A heavy sigh leaves him, and he drops his back to the door, his eyes level. Frown fixed.

I watch him for a moment, trying to pick up on a small sign that he doesn’t want to be here. That he finds the entire thing distasteful and strange.

Without moving a muscle, his dark gaze meets mine. “I’m here.”

He answers my insecurities.

Spero is crying, a needy sound, so I position my own little burden on my lap and drop one side of my shirt-dress and bra, exposing my left nipple. It tightens to a point.

My eyes lift to Lagos, wanting to know if he has looked away. I find his gaze unwavering—grounding. His attention seems to carry support, giving me air, offering me comfort, normalising… We are in this together.

I should want him to look away, but his gaze and time is dedicated to me, somehow making the weight of my uncertainties a little lighter.

Don’t look away, Lagos.

With a steady breath, my eyes fall to Spero. I’ve no idea how to do this. None. It should be pretty straightforward, right?

I position my nipple between his little lips, cradle the back of his head, and just… wait. His chubby hands pat and palm my breast, entertained by the new feeling.

Nothing happens.

He doesn’t even suck. Just sits babbling with the nipple between his lips. It might take time.

I sigh heavily. "I was breastfed by a Sired Mother,” I say, making conversation, looking up at Lagos. “Were you?"

He stares at me, dark eyes eclipsed by serious brows. Silence sweeps over the room then, and my pulse pitter-patters in my throat. I thought the question was innocent… But I was wrong. Something deeply emotional drowns inside his gaze. "I'm certain I wasn't,” is all he says.

He answered. That is…huge.

A small smile touches my lips. "It'll be in your file. You were a Trade man, so you'll have a file. It has everything in it." I chance the subject again, but don’t push for any details.

"Hm."

I use my finger in Spero’s mouth, then try my nipple again. Filling the personal moment with words. “Do you want to know what’s inmyfile then?"

"Yes,” he answers so quickly, my heart soars. Even if he only wants to help me through this, even if his attention is fleeting. Just for today. Just for this moment. For the milk. I don’t care.

My heart soars anyway.

"It said that I liked bananas,” I start, smiling down at Spero and moving my nipple in his mouth. He sucks a little. This is good. “But I haven't had one in years, so I can’t confirm that. And I used to draw patterns on everything, not pictures, just swirls, but I used to do it for hours and hours—” I smile and take a big breath. “Or so it says. What do you like?” I gaze up from Spero, finding Lagos still watching. “Ordidyou like, when you were a child?”

"I don't remember,” he states, firm but gentle. “Tell me more about baby Dahlia.”

“I like this side of you.”Too much.I clear my throat. “I, erm, I first laughed at four months old. And I loved gazing at myself in the mirror from five months old and apparently never stopped as a child.” I shake my head, amused by myself. “I don't know why."

His eyes soften on me. “I do."

My breath catches.

Does he mean… is he implying that… That he thinks I’m worth gazing at?

"Have you…” I falter. ‘I do’ stirs inside me, making me feel silly. I need to move the conversation along, or I will drown in those two words. “Haveyouever read your baby file?"

He doesn’t move a muscle, his features schooled. "No."

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