Page 5 of A Daddy to Love

“Who?” someone asked.

Luke spoke. “Never seen him before.”

Heads turned. “What did I miss?” Another asked.

“He looked like a little,” Luke offered.

“Just because he had a toy?” I asked. But of course, it was because he had a toy.

“For sure.”

“I saw that guy earlier when we came in,” a man named Alex said. “He was holding the butterfly, right?”

I nodded.

“Never seen him before.”

Others chimed in. “Me, either.”

I told myself I’d probably never see him again. My reaction to him—my interest—didn’t matter.

But still…. Something about him. I’d avoided looking at him downstairs but not for lack of interest. It was because he’d backed up, lowered his gaze as if scared. I didn’t go where I wasn’t wanted.

But then he’d come upstairs to stare at us. At me.

There was something inside me that needed to understand why.

The rest of the night, amid drinks and laughter and dancing, I couldn’t think of anything or anyone else but him.

3

Kairo

My mind kept replaying the moment Truce looked my way, the second our gazes met.

I walked around my big house in a daze. The staff kept asking me if I was okay. My butler, Sorel, who had hired my nannies and tutors and seen to my well-being for most of my life, narrowed his bushy eyebrows.

“Are you hungover? Did you drive home last night?”

“No. And yes,” I replied. “I had one drink with Kimmie, I guy I met. I didn’t stay out long. And I didn’t drive drunk.”

“Well, you seem to be having an off day, then.” Sorel made it his job to know every secret and drama in the household. He treated me with respect but he wasn’t above worrying. He reached out and put the back of his hand against my forehead. “Are you coming down with the flu? It’s going around.”

“No. I’m fine.”

“Humph.” He looked disappointed about not discovering a rational reason I was unfocused but didn’t bother me for the rest of the day.

Without Sorel, my house would fall apart all around me. He never once batted an eye at all the toys I kept buying, everything from electronics to teddy bear sippy cups to stuffies. He was like an old uncle who saw to my well-being. I was grateful.

That morning, I sat in front of my game TV, nearly as big as the wall, and could barely manage the controls. I would drift away into visions of Truce only to blink and realize I’d let the game play itself out. It forced loss after loss on me.

I lay back on my couch and threw my ball-shaped squishy cat into the air, catching him over and over.

By afternoon, I got up the courage to search for Truce online, half afraid of what I might find. A lot of Truces popped up on Insta and Facebook, which was a surprise because the name seemed so unique. I studied their profiles until I found photos of him. The real Truce. The one I’d seen last night.

He didn’t make many posts or comments. Instead, his pages consisted of people talking to him, telling him odd personal things, wanting to meet him. He had over a thousand followers for doing nothing except being there, being Truce. He could post about a movie he liked or a burger he ate and that post would be mobbed. He had a sense of humor. Funny memes would get a huge response. But when he posted selfies of himself in a tight tank or leather harness, the hookup offers poured in by the hundreds until a note said, Admin has turned off comments for this post.

I weeded through a lot of them realizing he didn’t answer comments. If he did say, “Hi,” I could tell it was someone he already knew. It became obvious to me that Truce had the pick of the town where gay men were concerned, but he didn’t need to connect online. From what I had briefly seen, he could walk into any bar with any theme and get what he wanted for the night.