Page 101 of Don't Call Me Daddy
I wrap my arms around her, savoring her comforting words as the clock in my mind counts down, reminding me of how little time we have left.
She yawns, and I kiss her head and click off the lamp.
“Good night, Daddy,” she whispers, sending a gust of reassurance I didn’t know I needed straight to my calloused, bruised heart.
I let out a heavy sigh of relief, feeling that spark of hope expand a little more. “Good night, baby girl.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Ivy
“That about does it on my end. We’ll be all ready to set up next Friday. Can’t wait to see what’s in store this year. It sounds like you two have really gone all out.”
I shake Richard’s hand before marking the dunking booth off my massive checklist.
Leo comes from around the corner, towel-drying his damp hair, in a fresh set of dry clothes—someone had to be the test dummy to make sure the dunking booth worked smoothly, and honestly, how was I supposed to resist?
I flash him a smile and wave with my fingers.
“You know, I never thought I’d see the day the reclusive Leo Kingsley willingly sat inside a dunking booth to make sure it worked.” Richard shakes his head and laughs as he claps Leo on the shoulder. “You, my friend, are what they callwhipped.” He winks and gestures toward me. “Not that I blame you in the slightest. If I had a pretty lady like Ivy on my arm, I reckon I’d do just about anything she asked me to as well.”
“Thanks for taking the time to meet with us, Richard. I know we sprang this on you on short notice, but I think these dunking booths will be the perfect addition to the festival. And thanks for the clothes.” He laughs, gesturing to his bright purple Fighting Phantoms T-shirt and matching sweatpants from the local high school.
This carefree—and dare I say—happy man is almost unrecognizable. Peace looks good on him.
Me, on the other hand? I’m a frazzled ball of nerves, waiting for the other shoe to drop.
I’m having the best sex of my life—life-altering sex that has me feeling like I’ve grown fairy wings, gliding weightlessly through the world around me. I see colors brighter, food tastes better than it ever has, I’m moved to tears anytime I listen to music. It’s like I’ve transcended dimensions and I’m living in an enhanced version of reality.
And honestly … it’s pissing me off.
Don’t get me wrong; I love to have fun. I love to enjoy myself. I live for experiencing joy and pleasure—hell, I center my whole life around finding it—but this … this is suspiciously perfect. Leo is being suspiciously delightful—too perfect—and it’s going to be that much harder when it’s time for me to leave.
My stomach twists in knots when I think about it, which makes me feel guilty, like I’m somehow cheating on my sister’s dying last wishes. I’ve never felt so mixed up and confused about what to do in all my life. Before a few weeks ago, I didn’t even question that moving across the country to work in Dracula’s Castle would be something I’d be struggling with … which can only mean one thing. I’ve lost sight of reality, and I need to take back the reins before I let this delusion of happily ever after wash me away.
I’ve never let myself get this stressed, and it’s really messing with my head.
So, I decided to take out some of my pent-up frustration on Leo. I came up with a whole list of obnoxious errands for us to do today, but so far, he’s just happily obliged, never once complaining, no matter how ridiculous. I expected him to buck back, to fight me on it, to distract me with a little back-and-forth verbal sparring before he’d finally put me in my place and fuck my attitude away … but that’s not what’s happening at all.
I thought asking him to take the day to run errands rather than go into the office would be enough to get a reaction, but no. In fact, he seemed excited to skip work today, even insisted on taking me to breakfast.
Then, when I told him I needed him to model the full-face paint for the Phantom design and make sure the paint didn’t irritate his skin, he just agreed! He’s been walking around with his face covered in black and purple face paint all morning.
He didn’t complain when I told him I needed pictures in various spots around town because I wanted to see what it would feel like on the day of the festival to make sure the vibes were right.
We’ve been walking around all morning, testing photo ops, eating, picking out craft supplies for the children’s craft area, where I pretended I couldn’t decide between dark purple or medium purple thread for the friendship bracelets. I thought for sure he’d tell me it didn’t matter, but, no, he pulled out his phone and made a list of pros and cons for each color in his Notes app until we ultimately decided to get both!
And I just knew the dunking booth would be the last straw, and he’d finally show signs of irritation … but instead, he agreed—because it would be quite the letdown if the booth was faulty. He even bought Fighting Phantom merch to wear after since his clothes were wet.
“So, what’s next on your checklist? Do we have time to grab some lunch?”
He wraps an arm around me as we saunter out of the store and onto the downtown cobblestone street. There’s a cool nip in the air, and the sun shines bright in a nearly cloudless sky. It’s the perfect day with the perfect weather and the perfect man …
“I’m not really hungry,” I say just as my stomach grumbles, contradicting me.
Leo quirks a brow. “You might not think you’re hungry, but your grumpiness is telling me something else. Come on. Let’s grab a bite to eat, and then we can get back to checking off your to-do list.” He takes my hand and leads me across the street, careful to check both ways.
His mention of my to-do list has the warning bells blaring in my head … and my heart—a visceral indication that I’m in way over my head here and I don’t know how I’m going to dig myself out of this mess.
