Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 77949 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77949 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
I had.
Hmm.
Daddy wanted to laugh at the way Papa phrased it, but I was amazed at how good Papa was with words that didn’t make me want to squirm.
“And…and you guys know that you don’t have to unless you want to.” Because we had limits and safewords and they’d be in charge but they could say no too.
“We want to.” Papa’s dry response had Daddy shaking with barely suppressed laughter. “You don’t need to worry about that part at all.”
One day I was going to figure out how to stop blushing.
“I…I want to too.” Ugh. “I mean…I…I like both of you…like that.”
They were probably starting to understand how I’d ended up with such a terrible dating history, but neither of them seemed to mind and they didn’t think I was weird. Neither of them had asked how I was such a fuckup or why I couldn’t function, either.
It was nice, actually, and I was hoping it would make it easier to do other stuff with them eventually.
“I’m glad.” Papa squeezed my arm again before looking like he wanted to pout. “Okay, we need privacy or I’m going to turn into the squirrel over there.”
I wasn’t sure if I could laugh at that without it being rude, but Daddy’s scrunched-up face and the way he dramatically waved his hands at Papa was so cute.
And made him look like a squirrel.
Papa was trying to ignore it and fished out his phone, but it was just making Daddy more worked up. He liked getting worked up, but it didn’t seem helpful at the moment.
Hmm…time to distract Daddy while Papa figured out the car thing. I wasn’t sure there were truly any boring conversations he couldn’t turn naughty, but I thought we could try. “Are we going to have dinner together?”
That had Daddy going very still and I could see his brain working overtime. It took about ten seconds but eventually he nodded and took a big deep breath, probably just to make Papa twitch. It worked but so did my distraction because Daddy talked again. “I realize at some point you guys might have other commitments or things like errands that need to be done, but my day is flexible.”
He hadn’t even been naughty.
Maybe he understood he was wiggling on Papa’s last nerve?
“I don’t have anything else I have to do.” There was always stuff I could do but nothing that would keep me from hanging out with them. “Would…”
Hmm.
“Um, it’s okay to say that we need space too. Not just errand stuff.” Yes. That wouldn’t be rude. Daddy had already mentioned several times that he wanted more dates and they both seemed like they were going to keep me, so it wouldn’t be mean either. I didn’t have to worry. “Sometimes people need space.”
“I don’t.” Daddy’s response got a scoff from Papa but he seemed confused. “I honestly don’t. But I will concede to the fact that other people seem to need space.”
Maybe it was an only child thing?
“I think Papa’s going to need space sometimes and that’s fine.” Daddy seemed to be the only one who could go from single to talking about moving in with someone and not need space sometimes. “I…I don’t know how much space I’ll need.”
I’d never been in a situation like this before.
“We’ll figure that out.” Daddy was being good but his eyes started to sparkle like something naughty was brewing just under the surface. “I—”
Before he could get in trouble, Papa held up his phone. “Got one. It’ll be here in just a second and then we’ll head back to my place.”
Saved by Papa…either me or Daddy…I wasn’t sure which.
“I don’t need space at the moment, but eventually doing something mindless like watching a movie would be nice.” Papa raised an eyebrow before his gaze shifted over to the road to look for the car we were waiting for. “I have the ingredients for Italian for dinner or we could get something delivered.”
If Papa thought that would be an easy conversation he was wrong. Daddy had opinions on everything and spent the entire car ride debating what kind of pasta dishes could be called Italian and even our driver got in on the debate.
His family was from Florence and he seemed to be convinced that Italians ate like people from Texas…lots of steak and potatoes. Daddy kept bouncing between driving Papa nuts and asking the driver questions that still drove Papa nuts.
To say Papa was relieved when we got to his house would’ve been an understatement.
“No.” Holding up his hand as he opened the door, Papa glared at Daddy. “My house, my definition. I will take allergies and preferences into consideration but that’s it. If I open SpaghettiOs and call it Italian you cannot debate me.”
Daddy paused, going back to his looking cute and thinking face. “So let me get this straight. You want a rule that says we can debate in public but once we’re at home the person who rents or owns the space gets to decide the definition of things like meals and what cultures can claim food-wise?”