Page 49 of Becoming His Perfect Daddy
He walked out two weeks after I’d come out to him, and I was thankful I still had the job I did to navigate life after the dissolution of a long relationship. But his final words hauntedme during those long nights, in the dark, when I still didn’t feel quite good enough: “No gay man will ever want to have sex with you when your body looks like this. You’ll always be alone.” And as much as I hated to give him power over me like that, on those lonely, endless nights—despite the work I’d done andhaddone to make my outside match my inside more closely—I always feared he was right.
That was probably the moment I realized I couldn’t trust men in relationships. If the man who’d said he loved me could turn on me, say such horrible things to me just for embracing who I really was, then maybe no one could be trusted. It hurt more than I wanted to admit, more than I felt I could bear, and despite my half-hearted efforts in the intervening years, I realized now I’d been living under the shadow of his curse. I hadn’t been putting myself out there. I hadn’t been willing to risk my heart another time. But maybe it was time to take that risk.
My heart rate picked up at the mere thought.
Tristan pulled away, holding me at arm’s length by my shoulders. When he saw the expression on my face, probably one of panic, his eyes searched mine. “You okay, babe?”
I nodded, sniffling, willing my heart to slow down. “Yes. Just an unwelcome memory.”
“About what?”
I sighed, my shoulders falling. “My ex. And . . .” Dare I voice my fears? Wouldn’t that make them real? Or even worse, make them come true?
“What, Cammy?”
I took a breath. “I swore off love and relationships months ago, Tristan. I can’t risk my heart one more time. I know this thing with S.M.C. is virtual, but what if this turns into something more? What if I get hurt?” Tears prickled at the back of my eyes.
Tristan took my face in his hands and held my gaze. “Cameron, you need to hear me on this. Are you listening?”
I nodded, not looking away.
“Some mencanbe trusted.”
I gasped, a small inhale that was barely audible, but I couldn’t help it. His words floored me.
I shook my head, but he shushed me. “No. Not every man will break your heart and leave it in pieces. There are good ones out there.”
My next words were a whisper. “But how do you know which ones?”
Tristan pulled me into another hug before pulling back to catch my gaze again. “No one can know for sure. That’s where trust comes in.”
Tears blurred my vision as I sniffled. “I don’t know how to do that. I don’t know that I can.”
Tris smiled at me, taking a step back. “Just take things one step at a time. Like you said, your new Daddy is virtual, and with that distance between you, you won’t have to risk your heart just yet. But keep putting yourself out there, okay? Embrace being this man’s boy, see what comes of it. And if he’s the right Daddy for you, maybe you’ll find a way to let him in. Maybe you’ll figure out he’s worth the risk.”
I swiped at my wet cheeks, nodding. “I hear you, Tris. Thanks.”
He smiled, wiping his thumbs under my eyes to catch the last of the tears. “You’ll be okay?”
“Absolutely.” I took a couple of deep breaths. “Thank you. For lunch, for being here, for the pep talk, for the hug. I think I needed it more than I realized.”
His smile widened, and he placed a hand on my shoulder. “Anytime, dude. I’m always down for hugs and even cuddle piles if the situation calls for it.” He shoved his hand in his pocket and retrieved his keys. “Well, I should get going. I have another livestream at four.”
I smiled, my racing heart finally calming. “Okay, good luck. Hope it goes well.”
He smirked, wiggling those eyebrows again. “Oh, it will. My viewers are in for a treat.”
I laughed, and we headed out of the kitchen together.
As we walked through the living room—where Prickles lifted his head to watch us from his spot on the couch like he was a dog or something—Tris sobered. “But seriously, Cameron, I really hope this works out with S.M.C. I’d feel better if he told you his real name, but it sounds like he’s letting you in, little by little. Maybe in seven months, he’ll be ready to let you in completely. And maybe you can let him in completely by then, too.”
I stopped at the front door, holding it open for him. “Hopefully. To both.”
“You’ve got this, man.” With a wave, he descended the steps and was peeling out of my gravel driveway in less than a minute.
I puffed out a sigh as I turned back inside. Tris had given me a lot to think about.
What if this Daddy thing with S.M.C. didn’t work out? What if he didn’t like me enough by the end of seven months to keep me? What if he wanted to end it sooner? Or perhaps even scarier: What if he wanted to meet in person and didn’t like what he saw? What if he thought I had the wrong parts just like Vincent said I did? What if he rejected me, too?
