Jett Nelson:Hey, guys. My wife is calling me “Daddy” while talking to our kids and I think I want her to do it in ... other places. Should I bring this up to her?
Comments:
Oliver Brian:Is this a joke post?
Ryan Kim:Communication, man. Also, have some decorum.
Robert Colt:Ack, I don’t wanna know this. Admins, delete please!
Robert Colt:But also, just communicate it. Plenty of us have our things in the bedroom. Even weirder things than being a daddy.
In the light of day,I could see more of Grace’s split-level home as I drove up. It was a good family home withplenty of space. Even with the minor work it needed, I liked the idea of our kid being raised here.
Our kid.I would never get used to that.
As I walked up to the door, my repair on the step was holding up. I was proud of myself for getting that done without her noticing it. And I’d liked her response even more.
My eyes traced over the house. One gutter was leaning, but that was easily fixable, and her porch could use railings to make it safer.
The front door opened as I stared.
“Eyes on me,” she said. “You’re not sneakily repairing anything else.”
“You say that now, but I don’t need your permission.”
Her eyes were narrow. “It’s my house.”
“You know I’m good at sneaking around.”
Her cheeks went pink. “I ... do know that.”
I replayed what I’d said and knew I needed to clarify. “I mean with repairs. And fixing things.”
“Right,that.” She nodded and opened the door wider. “Come on in. Hopefully the food will distract you.”
Grace turned to let me follow her.
As I did, I couldn’t help but let my eyes trail downward. God, she looked incredible. The feeling I’d been missing when looking at others was back full force in her presence.
It didn’t help that there was more of her to look at now. I knew better than to ever comment on a woman’s weight, but the sight of her ass these days would easily put me into an early grave.
There was only one other thing that could have distracted me, and it hit when I got halfway to the kitchen.
Food. Delicious, home-cooked food.
Was there anything she couldn’t do?
“Holy shit, what is that smell?”
“That better be a compliment,” she said.
“Oh, it is.” I looked into a pan where there was a meat sauce simmering. At first glance, I was thinking we would be having some sort of pasta, but the smell was different. A mix of spices hit my nose. I wasn’t good enough at cooking to be able to tell them apart.
“It might not be Tuesday, but I figured we could have tacos. I’m about to start the tortillas.”
“Is this sauce for them?”
“No, it’s just the meat. I simmer it in a sauce to make it taste better.”