Page 28 of Santa’s Little Faker
“I’ve been very, very good.” The silly tone in his voice had me wanting to call bullshit on that, but I didn’t have a specific reason. “Good. Good. Good boy.”
The singsongy note in his voice had me shaking my head as he bounced into the kitchen and I looked behind the couch for the still MIA shoes.
“Found them.” What were they doing tucked between the couch and the wall? “How did they end up back here?”
“Oh, the couch.” Since it seemed like he knew exactly where they’d been, I frowned at him as he bounced back into the living room. “Sorry.”
His shrug and slightly apologetic grin did not scream sorry to me, but I nodded anyway. “Thank you, but we’re going to make a plan to figure out where your new shoes will go.”
I wasn’t going to play Hide and Seek every time we needed to look for them.
Instead of pouting or even simply agreeing with me, Orlando nodded excitedly and grabbed my hand before I could move the couch. “Yes. Come see.”
See what?
As he pulled me through the small cottage-style house, his wiggles got even more excited. “I have to show you.”
He repeated variations of that as he took me to what used to be his guest room. The bed and furniture his mother had picked out were gone and in their place was a mostly white room with a large city rug that had roads and buildings all over it.
“Oh, yes, this is going to be a great place to put your new shoes.” And anything else he could need. “Is it going to be your playroom or is it a bedroom for your little time?”
He shrugged, studying his room and grinning ear to ear. “It’s mine.”
Well, considering the fact that everyone else in the family had opinions on what he needed to do with the house to begin with, this was probably the only room in the house that would completely feel like his. “It’s going to be wonderful. I love your rug.”
Still grinning, he did a small hop as his wiggles got bigger again. “It’s mine.”
And not a hand-me-down from a cousin or something else his mother picked out…so yes…it was his.
“You have a very good room and it’s going to be perfect when it’s done.” No matter what he decided it needed to look like. “Is it going to be a car room?”
That seemed to encompass anything and everything that could drive, but he shrugged and just kept looking around. “It’s mine.”
Did that mean it was going to be a combination of everything he loved?
“And my Daddy’s.” That seemed to be an afterthought but an important one based on how seriously he looked as he nodded. “Mine and Daddy’s.”
His Daddy was going to be a safer individual than that fucking stalker.
“You’re going to share with your Daddy?” When he nodded, I looked around again. “He might want a chair to cuddle you and read books.”
“Oh.” Doing another happy wiggle, his smile came back. “Daddies read. I need books.”
“And shelves?” As his head bobbed, I pointed to a low wall under a window that faced the backyard. “How about there?”
“Sitting shelves?” Rocking back and forth, his face scrunched up as he studied the area. “Sitting shelves.”
Some kind of window seat with shelves?
“You’re very smart.” Giving in to the pull again, I ran my hand over his head, getting a happy sigh from him. “I think it’s going to be a wonderful room for you.”
“And Daddy.” Leaning into my touch, he giggled. “A big chair for Daddy.”
If he let some dickhead sit in my chair, I was going to—
“That’s right. A big chair for Daddy.” I was not going to help create a Daddy paradise for some asshole that was stalking him. “And books for Trippy.”
Fucking hell.
