Page 21 of Daddy's Little Camping Trip
“I’m all in for fun.” We followed the others who were headed that way and soon joined in the fun. Bridger and Hudson were laughing and joking; some others were pretending to argue about how to set the chairs. The people who’d attended this event had bonded in a way I hadn’t noticed but could really appreciate.
Sometimes, especially since I’d been single, it was easy to compartmentalize my daddy self into the guy who showed up at Chained to play in the little room, but he was really very much a part of me all the time. At work, when one of the secretaries needed a ride home or someone needed a friend to listen to their problems over lunch.
After my night and morning with Quill, instead of being just one of the single daddies who filled in, I was the daddy who was hanging out with him. We worked together to get everything ready then paused for a sandwich lunch before settling in for the afternoon’s entertainment. Super casual, everyone not performing at any particular moment sat in front of the stage and applauded, cheered, and occasionally catcalled. The slushie machine set up in the corner was a huge hit as well, while littles took the stage and performed.
They hadn’t done a lot of rehearsal. It was a talent show, after all, so they were pretty much just doing what they already knew how to do, but it was amazing to see these men whoI’d watched building with blocks or chasing one another with laughter, reveal hidden gifts of tap dancing or playing the harmonica. One who usually just sat on his daddy’s lap and loved story time turned out to be the funniest joke teller I’d ever heard. Three of them did a skit about a silly daddy who couldn’t make up his mind what to cook for his little for dinner, leaving us all in stitches.
And then, it was Quill’s turn. He’d been very closemouthed about what he planned to do, and I was so curious but sure whatever he did would be great. He was great, so of course he’d be wonderful at anything. I was already prejudiced in his favor about everything. As I should be. If your daddy—even your daddy for the weekend—didn’t support you, who would? The chatter died down as he stood all alone in the middle of the stage, hands at his sides, and drew a deep breath. I wanted to go up and put my arm around him, tell him whatever he did would be great, but if he didn’t want to perform at all, that was fine too.
But then music came over the speakers, and Quill, who had never said a word about being able to sing, opened his lips and let the lyrics pour out. The song, a pop love song I’d heard on the radio a few times, had the entire crowd enthralled. I had no words to describe what I heard, the pure sound, the heart, the heat. The little I’d held in my arms all night held all these people in the palm of his hand.
My vision blurred, and goose bumps rose on my arms at the beauty, and by the time the last notes trailed off, and the daddies and littles abandoned their chairs for a standing ovation, nobody doubted who had won the talent show. The prize may have only been a certificate, but I’d make sure it was framed as a memento of this very special weekend.
The daddies’ song came off as more comedic than anything, which worked well for my abilities, and then it was over.
And time to say goodbye to the camping trip I had not wanted to go on and now would not have missed for anything.
“Did you like my song?” Quill appeared at my elbow, clutching his certificate and also a gift card from the resort. A nice extra nobody had mentioned. “I was so nervous.”
“Everyone loved it, but I loved it more.” I hugged him, careful not to crumple his prize. “You never told me you could sing!”
“It’s just a hobby, something to do in the shower.” He ducked his head shyly. “You were pretty good, too.”
“No.” I chuckled, giving him another gentle squeeze. “I was not. But it was fun and nobody was much better in the group, so it was all good.”
There were more snacks to be had after the show, and we grazed our way through some homemade cookies and milk, chatting with the others. Quill did know Hudson, but he’d never really spoken with Bridger and was fascinated to hear about the daddy’s crochet pattern empire.
Chapter Seventeen
Quill
“I never thought I’d…I never thought I’d say this”—I reached for Daddy G’s hand—“but I’m not ready to go home from camping.”
“Well, then, I have some good news for you.” He pulled me in for a hug, his lips close to my ear. “They told me we could stay another night if we wanted to. What do you say? Want to spend another night in the dome?”
“Absolutely.”
We spent the day just soaking in the atmosphere and enjoying each other’s company. Two non-campers discovering camping—glamping. It was a wonderful day and an even better night.
But the next morning, reality hit, and we had to go our separate ways. We had responsibilities to get back to, and while we both agreed that we wanted to last beyond this time, we weren’t going to know what this would look like until it actually happened.
As soon as I got home, I threw all my clothes into the washer, not even bothering to separate them—the fear of bringing home extra bugs enough to have me not worry about color bleeding. Then I sprayed my suitcases down with Lysol and returned the sleeping bag to Mr. Robinson with a bag of teas from his favorite tea shop.
Wasn’t easy getting back into the hustle and bustle of work after days of being screen-free and relaxed, but I managed. The other thing I meant to do was stay in contact with Daddy G. We talked on the phone, we texted, we even video chatted. And the next weekend, we went on our first date that wasn’t surrounded by bugs.
I took him to my favorite hot pot place, and we ate and laughed, and all my fear that what we had was the magic of the moment fell away. The two of us had something special together, and we were going to make it.
A couple of weeks went by—weeks filled with work and dinners out, walks in the park, and random big kind of dating scenarios—but tonight, we were going to have our first daddy/little night. We talked about going back to Chained, where we’d met, and enjoying the little room, surrounded by people we knew and others we didn’t.
But, in the end, we opted to go to his place. I had known what to expect, but I carried my backpack in, filled with my little gear, and immediately saw how much effort he put into making the space little-friendly for the night.
On the counter were multiple sippy cups—one of them with a bear, of course. Huge pillows were on the floor for me to sit and watch cartoons, if I wanted to. The coffee table had some coloring books with crayons on it. There were stuffies on the couch and even a bucket of blocks.
“I can’t believe you did all of this for me.” I hugged him close.
“Of course I did, my sweet boy. Let me show you around.”
And at first, I suspected that these were little items he had because he was a daddy. He would have things for when he played. But it quickly became apparent that he’d not only set this up for me—he’d bought all of these items for today. This was a special little time just for us.
