wish I could go back five minutes in time and handle my entrance better. The problem is that I’m not quite sure what she’s thinking or what she needed from me.
After five minutes with not a single noise in the bathroom, I knock on the door. “Britney? Sweetie? You okay?”
“I just need a few minutes.”
I don’t like the tone of her voice. “Sweetie, please open the door.”
There’s no response.
I rub my forehead, trying to decide how to proceed. We’re on the cusp of something huge here. I fully intend to talk to her about age play tonight, and now this. I’m not certain what the best course of action is, but I decide to go full Daddy on her. “Britney,” I demand, “open the door.”
I hear her shuffling and then the knob turns.
I have to push the door open farther, but at least I can see her now. She’s standing there with her arms folded in front of her, her fists clenched together against her mouth.
I reach out and stroke my hand down the back of her head and then pull her closer until I have her in my arms. She’s shaking and she won’t lift her face.
“Sweetie, whatever it is, it can’t be that bad. Talk to me.”
She shakes her head.
I kiss the top of her head, inhaling the powder scent of her conditioner.
When she still gives me no response, I take her hands and pull them from her face. “Come.” I keep one arm wrapped around her and lead her from the bedroom and down the hall toward the living room. I need to hold her. I need her in my lap so that I can face her and get her to talk to me.
I sit in one of the leather armchairs and pull her into my lap. She’s barefoot, and she draws her knees up and sets her little feet between my legs. She rocks forward so that her chin is on her knees, her hands fisted at the sides of her face. Her hair is once again a curtain that blocks out the world.
I gather the long locks and drape them over her shoulder and then I tug her closest hand down and tip her chin toward me. “Look at me, sweetie.”
She slowly meets my gaze. Her eyes are watery. “I’m embarrassed.”
I frown. “About what?”
“I didn’t realize how late it was and you caught me playing on the floor like a small child. I feel ridiculous.”
“Ahhh.” Now I get it. Everything finally makes more sense, although I’m slightly shocked that this is the first moment that has caused her to realize what she’s been doing for days.
I tuck a lock of hair behind her ear and stroke her cheek. “I don’t want you to be embarrassed. There’s nothing wrong with enjoying certain aspects of childhood. I bought you the tea set, sweetie. I intended for you to use it.”
Her eyes widen. “Surely, it was a trinket you expected me to put on a shelf and look at. Not something I got down on the floor and played with.” Her voice is cracking.
I shake my head. “You missed out on tea parties and coloring and a host of other things. I’m trying to give that back to you if that’s what you want. And you’re permitted to recreate what you missed out on.”
She turns her face away and stares across the room. “I’m confused.”
“That’s understandable.” And my fault. I let this go on too long. I should have spoken up yesterday or the day before or the day she came to my house. Why did I wait so long?
I know the answer. I’ve been selfishly watching her ease into my world without a comment. It was bound to blow up in my face eventually.
“Grown women do not play with tea sets and stuffed animals,” she murmurs, her gaze going to her knees.
Does she have any idea that her dress is bunched up at her waist and I can see her panties?
“Sweetie, we need to talk.”
She glances at me. Her lip trembles. “You want me to move out, don’t you?”
My eyes widen. “God, no. Not at all.”
She looks back down. “I can’t thank you enough for everything you’ve done for me. You’ve been so kind, and you’ve indulged me at a time I really needed a break. I need to snap out of it and get back to my real life. I have responsibilities. I need a new job and probably a place to live. I—”