Page 41 of Daddy's Christmas Rescue
I swallowed. But it made startling sense. “What if you mess it up?”
She giggled. “You can’t. If you do, you just try again. Duke says it’s not about being perfect. It’s about being honest.”
That made something twist in my chest. I could barely remember a time when being honest didn’t end with someone yelling, or worse. I stared at the juice cup and tried to imagine telling Blake what I really wanted. The idea made my hands shake.
Gemma reached over and patted my leg. “You don’t have to figure it all out at once,” she whispered. “You start small. One thing. Like coloring. Or hugging a toy. Or wearing socks with puppies on them, even if it feels silly.”
I nodded. I liked the socks Blake had bought me. The ones with the little dogs. I’d been too embarrassed to wear them today.
Gemma’s grin widened, like she’d read my mind. “Sometimes, when the world is too much, Duke brings me cocoa and a blanket and I sit on his lap until I feel me again.” She ducked her head, a blush on her cheeks.
I desperately wanted to ask the real burning question but I could feel the heat climb my face just thinking about it. I glanced towards the kitchen and saw Blake sipping his coffee, but his steady blue eyes were fixed on me, so I dropped my gaze to the floor.
Gemma must have noticed something was wrong. “I know we’ve only just met, but I can tell we’re going to be friends,” she whispered, “and Daddy understands that sometimes I have to keep grown-up secrets.”
I glanced up at her. A lawyer? I bet she had a ton of secrets she had to keep. I wasn't sure why I blurted it, but the words tumbled out before I could stop them. "Is Duke just your daddy, or do you…do you have sex?"
Gemma giggled, but it wasn't mocking. If anything, she looked relieved. "Oh, both! Definitely both." She hugged her bear tighter and dropped her voice. "Sometimes I'm Little, and sometimes I'm big. Sometimes I'm both at once, and that's the best." Her cheeks went pink, but she didn't look embarrassed. "Duke says it's about what we want, not what anyone expects. If I want to cuddle and color, he loves that. If I want to be kissed, or more, he loves that too."
I stared at her, heart thudding, and tried to imagine saying that out loud to Blake. The idea made me want to crawl under the rug, but Gemma just seemed so sure of herself.
She leaned in. "You don't have to pick one or the other. Duke always says I'm prettiest when I'm happiest, and sometimes that's when I'm Little, and sometimes it's when I'm kissing him in the kitchen after work. Do you want that?"
I could feel my face burning. I squeezed the juice cup, wishing I could disappear. "I don't know," I whispered. "I think I do. But what if I mess up? What if he wants someone else?"
Gemma's eyes went soft. "He doesn't. If he did, he wouldn't be here, right? Littles are special, but we're also women. We getto be whatever we need. If Blake's a real Daddy, he'll want all of you. Not just the soft parts." She tipped her head and considered me. “Is that what you’re worried about?”
I tried to breathe, but my chest felt too tight, but I found myself telling her about Amanda and the almost kiss.
She nodded. “The hardest thing a Daddy has to do is turn off their over-protective button, but as that’s one of the things I adore about my Daddy, I’m not sure he’d still be him without it.” She frowned. “Does that make sense?”
I nodded, because yeah it did.
“I want both,” I whispered.
She glanced back to the kitchen then back at me. “I don’t think you have anything to worry about.” She wiggled her eyebrows and I giggled.
"I don't know how to even start."
Gemma shrugged like it was simple. "You just try. Wear the silly socks. Ask for cocoa. Tell him when you need a hug. And if you want to kiss him, you ask. That's all. If he says yes, you get what you want. If he says no, he tells you why. That's how it works with Daddies."
I didn't say anything. I just colored some more, letting the green crayon fill the lines, and tried to imagine being that brave. Gemma didn't push. She just colored next to me, and every once in a while, she smiled, like she knew exactly what I was thinking.
It was quiet for a while. I started to relax. Even the weird knot in my stomach felt less sharp.
Then Gemma nudged me with her shoulder. "You want to see my favorite thing?" she asked. Her voice was soft, like she was offering a present.
I nodded.
She darted up and came back a second later carrying a blanket, pale blue with clouds all over it, and a stuffed dog that looked like he'd seen better days. "This is Captain Snuffles. He's thebravest." She wrapped the blanket around both of us, then flopped down again. "Sometimes, when I'm sad, I hold him and Duke brings me cocoa, and we watch cartoons until I feel better. Sometimes I cry, and that's fine too. Captain Snuffles always listens. Do you want to hold him?"
I nodded before I could stop myself, and almost cried when I thought of Banjo. He probably didn’t think I loved him anymore, and suddenly I wanted to go home. The stuffed dog was soft, his fur worn in patches, and Gemma tucked the blanket around my shoulders and scooted closer until we were side by side. The warmth was instant—a shield against everything prickly and sharp.
"You look good in blue," she whispered. "And I bet you'd look cute in pink too. Or with sparkles. Or whatever makes you happy."
I tried to imagine it, but it felt impossible. I barely knew what happy was supposed to look like. But I liked the way the blanket felt, and the way Captain Snuffles fit under my chin.
My eyes stung. I tried not to let it show, but she smiled at me like she already knew.
