wondered if he’d make them again if I reached up under his skirt. Knowing sex wasn’t supposed to be a part of the plan, I somehow managed to keep my hands to myself throughout dinner.
I ate a couple of slices while Emmie worked on his second. Having seen him eat before, I was fascinated by the neat way he ate while little. In small, measured bites, the pizza slowly disappeared. There was a voice in the back of my mind telling me that this was something important to him.
It finally occurred to me as he pressed his napkin to his lips with a few delicate taps that he reminded me of a child at a tea party trying to act like a lady.
Wanting to play into it, I stood and returned to the kitchen. I grabbed his sippy cup and shook it. Seeing as it was mostly empty, I placed it in the sink for later. Opening the little cabinet once again, I took down one of the elegant teacups and its matching saucer.
Emmie gasped and pressed his hands to his chest as I placed the cup in front of him. Grabbing another soda from the refrigerator, I served him half and then set the can next to my plate so I could have what was left.
“Here you go, little Emmie,” I said, sliding the cup toward him.
Seeing the absolute joy on his face as he lifted the cup and saucer with both hands, stuck out his pinky finger, and took a sip was well worth everything.
“Thank you, Daddy. I love it.”
And when he looked up at me, I could see it. The hesitation, it was gone.
I felt my throat close up at the trust I saw shining out from his face. I felt like I hadn’t done enough to earn it. I felt like I’d only done the bare minimum, and yet he was looking at me like I was the best Daddy in the world.
I felt my heart crumble at that moment.
I was his, and there was no going back.
Feeling disoriented and needing a moment to compose myself, I dawdled around the kitchen, cleaning up the small mess our dinner had created.
“Are you finished?” I asked, seeing Emmie’s empty plate.
“Yes,” he replied, pushing it toward me.
I smirked when he kept the teacup firmly at his side. Letting him keep it for a little while longer, I placed both hands on the counter and leaned toward him. “What’s next?”
Emmie perked up, his eyes on the oven. “I believe I was promised cookies.”
“That you were.” Lifting a finger to my lips, I pretended to think. Feeling indulgent, I already knew what cookies I wanted to make. “How about we make my extreme chocolate cookies?”
“Extreme?” His eyes were large as he swayed toward me.
“Extreme,” I said seriously. “Chocolate overload.”
“Yes!”
Laughing as Emmie raced around the counter to join me, I began pulling down the ingredients we needed from the pantry.
“We need a stick butter and two eggs,” I said, giving Emmie a task.
“A stick of butter and two eggs. Got it!” With a happy flounce, Emmie crossed the kitchen.
Reaching down, I grabbed my stand mixer and placed it on the counter. Remembering the small step stool my mother insisted I keep for whenever she visited, I opened the cabinet under the sink and retrieved it. Placing the wooden step in front of the mixer, I waited for Emmie to return.
He placed the butter and eggs on the counter with the rest of our ingredients and then jumped onto the stool with a little bounce.
It’s a little too tall for him, I thought, looking up at his smiling face. Adding finding him a step stool that was just the right height for him—and pretty— to my to-do list, I stood behind him with my arms caging him in and walked him through the steps to making the cookies.
It was a straightforward recipe, and knowing his background, was one he probably already knew by heart, but that wasn’t the point.
Emmie tilted his head and eyed the cookie batter. “Can we add sprinkles?”
“Of course,” I said, grabbing a bottle of rainbow sprinkles for him. “What kind of cookies would they be without sprinkles?”
“How much?” he asked, taking the bottle from my hand.
“As much as you want.”
Seeing the way his hand moved toward the bowl and the excitement wiggling through his body, I grabbed his hand and stopped him before he could dump the entire bottle into the batter. “How about we do it together, little