“I hate to do this, princess, but Daddy has to go to work for a while. There’s a problem with one of my cases, and I need to go handle it.”
“Oh.” My heart sinks. Bad thoughts run through my head. Maybe he’s making that up because he’s tired of me. I’m a handful. Heck, my adult is a handful by herself. When my Little is added to the mix, I’m a lot of work.
I swallow and nod.
“I’m so sorry, Baby girl. I know we were supposed to spend the entire weekend together, and I hate this. I don’t know howlong it will take me, but as soon as I fix this problem, I will be all yours again.”
“Okay,” I whisper.
“Do you want to stay here in Daddy’s house? I’d love for you to. But if you’d rather go to your own apartment while I work, I can drop you off there first.”
I think about it. I don’t want to be here alone in Daddy’s house without him. I’m scared I’d panic. I do better in my own environment. I’m pretty sure I could slay a red, fire-breathing dragon wearing a zipped-up hoody with flashing lights and chomping on potato chips if Daddy was with me. But I don’t want to wander around his house alone.
“Can you drop me off, please?”
He holds me tight. “Yes, Baby girl. And again, I’m so sorry. Sometimes Daddy’s job requires me to go into work unexpectedly. I hate that it happened on your first weekend here.”
Will there be more weekends here? I know he’s saying all the right things, but my brain isn’t wired to trust people as well as other people do. I keep worrying he’s tired of me.
He keeps a close eye on me as he puts my shoes and socks on and then my coat. He grabs my purse from the counter and hands it to me, squatting down in front of me. “We can leave your suitcase here if you want.”
I shrug. “Whatever.”
He holds my gaze, taking a deep breath.
I stare at him. I’m not mad. I keep telling myself I’m not mad. And I’m not. I’m scared.
He hauls me into his arms and kisses my forehead, letting his lips linger before releasing me.
I stay very little on the way to my apartment and offer him a forced smile after he helps me inside.
He tips my head back, kisses me, and says, “I’ll text you when I know what time I’ll be done, and I’ll come back and pick you up.”
I nod. “Okay.”
He flinches, and I know it’s because I didn’t call him Daddy. After he leaves, I stand in my spot for a long time, staring at the door, my heart beating fast. Finally, I turn and run to my room. I kick off my shoes and crawl under the covers. I don’t even care that I’m dressed. I just want to fall asleep and escape before I have a panic attack.
I’m crying uncontrollably when I call my mom later that night. It’s after ten, but she picks up instantly. She always does. She keeps her phone close by at all times, always worried I might need her. I try not to be needy with my parents, but I need her more than ever tonight.
“Honey, calm down. Take a breath. What happened?”
“He didn’t come back,” I tell her between hiccupped sobs. “He said he would text and then come back. He said he would always be here when he got off work. He said he would always let me know if he was running late. He didn’t.”
“Deep breaths, honey. Tell me exactly what happened.”
I fill her in on all the details I know, including the fact that I went to his house last night for the weekend, but leaving out the part about having sex with him. When I’m done, she sighs.
“Honey, he’s a detective. He probably got busy. He might be in a dangerous situation tonight that’s preventing him from texting or calling.”
I’m surprised she’s on his side. I thought she would be more skeptical. She only met him the one time a week ago. She knowshe’s been over every night this past week, but she hasn’t spoken to him again. We were supposed to go to my parents’ house tomorrow evening for dinner. Now I feel like I’m never going to see him again.
It’s irrational and frustrating. My brain mostly knows that, but I can’t stop myself from feeling like he has gotten tired of me. “I’m a lot of work, Mom. Maybe he decided he doesn’t want to deal with me.”
“Honey, from what you’ve told me, you’ve hardly had any sensitivity issues when you’re with him. Plus, he’s a Daddy, so he isn’t likely to tire of your Little side, Josie.”
“But, Mom, I’m really Little, like all the time. Maybe it’s too much for him. Maybe he wants someone who can be an adult more often and leave the house. Mom! I can’t even leave the apartment.”
“Honey, you left your apartment yesterday. You went to his house.”
