The Daddy P.I. Casefiles: The First Collection by Frost, J (great novels .txt) π
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Heβs the only thing I have from my father.
βWho is this?β Logan asks.
βPeter Aloha Bunny,β I tell him, feeling the prick of tears behind my eyes. I donβt want to cry. Loganβs being wonderful again. Gentle and generous. That shouldnβt make me cry.
βDid he come from Hawaii?β
I nod. βMy dad brought him back for me.β
For my sixth birthday, I think, although my memories of it are vague and my mother refused to talk about my father after he left us, so she wouldnβt ever confirm my misty recollection.
Logan strokes Peter Aloha Bunnyβs head, then hands him back to me. βItβs nice to meet Peter Aloha Bunny. Would you like to keep him on your bed or mine?β
I shake my head, unable to answer.
βWhy donβt you put him away for now, and when you decide, you can unpack him. If you want him in here, he goes on the right pillow. Left sideβs mine.β
βYes, Daddy.β I blink hard and swallow my tears, then hold out my arms.
He sweeps me up and cuddles me against his chest. βEasy, baby. Too much?β
I shake my head and whisper into his warm throat. βJust emotional.β
βYou know itβs okay to be emotional with me. Weβve talked about that before. Iβm proud of you, baby, for the trust you just showed me. I wouldnβt ever hurt your bunny or take him away from you. Heβs yours. Little girls need their lovies.β
I nod. Iβm going to cry. I canβt help it.
βOops.β He catches the first tear on his fingers as it spills, wipes it away and kisses my forehead. βYouβre safe with me, Emmy. This is a safe place, right here, in Daddyβs arms. You can show me anything. Tell me anything. Iβll keep it safe, right here.β
That does it. I grab two handfuls of his T-shirt, bury my face in them and bawl.
He holds me, rubbing my back, as I blubber into his shirt.
My tears donβt last long, thank goodness, maybe because theyβre from letting go of little fears, rather than the deep catharsis of yesterday. Or maybe Iβm just dehydrated. I take a few shaky breaths and wipe my face, then realize what a mess Iβve made of his shirt.
βDaddy, Iβm sorry.β I hold his tearβand oh, God, is that snot?βstained shirt between my hands.
He chuckles. βNo problem. I was going to change after I showered anyway. Letβs get these balls in you if you still want to wear them to lunch. If itβs too much today, just say so.β
I shake my head. βIβd like to wear them for you.β
His warm βgood girlβ makes me shiver all the way to my toes.
* * *
Logan holds my hand as we walk up the wide staircase from our cabins to the Lido deck. The weighted, silver balls heβs put inside me shift slightly with each step but are so much nicer on stairs than Morris-the-purple-butt plug, which heβs told me Iβm wearing to dinner. Iβm not sure Iβm looking forward to that.
Iβm definitely not looking forward to lunch. I really dislike groups of strangers. Iβm okay one-on-one, but in groups I just want the floor to open up and swallow me.
We stop at the sliding doors leading to the Rose Murex Lounge to use the dispenser of hand sanitizer thatβs at the door of every public area on the ship. While we were boarding, the pursers asked us to use the hand sanitizers liberally. Since I donβt want whatever the other couple hundred people on the ship are carrying, I do.
When I finish rubbing the gel into my hands, Logan holds his arm out. I tuck myself into his side and let him lead me through the sliding doors.
The lounge is already full of women, even though weβre ten minutes early. There are two lines of booths along the windows of the lounge, and platforms on each end where there are larger tables. Some of the tables are already occupied. Waiters in the shipβs uniformβa pink thong for men and an iridescent cream bikini for womenβcirculate among the tables, offering champagne, mimosas, and sodas. One of the waitstaff bounces over to us: literally bounces on her cream-and-gold Nikes.
βHello! Iβm Jemma. Can I help you find your place card? Once youβre seated, there will be a short presentation, then weβll take your order. Would you like a complementary glass of champagne?β
Sheβs too bubbly for me. I draw back against Loganβs side, shaking my head.
βLetβs find your tag, sweetheart,β Logan murmurs into my hair.
I almost beg him to let me return to the cabin with him, but he wanted me to do this. I can do it for him. I nod mutely.
We find my place card at a table for four on the far end of the lounge. Logan seats me and drops a kiss on the top of my head. My backβs to the open deck and pool beyond the doors behind me, but I have a nice view of the ocean out of the panoramic window to my left, and thereβs a magnificent ice sculpture of Poseidon and his foam-maned horses slowly melting a few feet away that I can admire. Poseidon bears a distinct resemblance to Jason Momoa, which makes me smile.
I draw my Kindle out of my bag and set it next to the cream and gold place setting in front of me.
Logan leans down and kisses my forehead. βAt least say hello to the other girls at your table before you bury your nose in your book, baby. If youβre not having fun, you have my permission to rock back and forth in your chair and think of Daddy.β He winks at me. βIβll see you back at the cabin.β
I smile up at him. βTa very much.β
βI
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