Page 5 of Daddy's Reckoning

I held my breath while I read it over. There. No lies detected. Well, one, but there was no way around that. My fingers hovered over the send button. Was this the right thing to do? Could I afford to get involved with Theo again, in any way? Wasn’t I just prolonging the inevitable? I’d be better off just making a clean break.

Delete the message. Block his number.

That’s what I told myself, even as I hit send.

THEO

Sorry. Been busy. All is good. Not ready to resume physical discipline yet, but could honestly use some help not falling behind in classes. Really struggling, but don’t even have time to meet up. Could we do this not in person for a while somehow?

My mouth hung open as I read Erin’s text that came through just as I was resigning myself to the realization that anything we’d had together ended the second I was stupid enough to get her pregnant.

I was still kicking myself over that one, and I couldn’t blame her for hating me. As her Daddy, even her Rent-A-Daddy, I should have been more careful. But sometimes I lost my mind around her.

Catching my breath, I read the message again, going over every detail, imagining her tone, trying to read between the lines. Not that I had to. It was obvious she wasn’t ready to see me. And long-distance domming, especially with someone who lived less than ten miles away, wasn’t really my jam, but for Erin, I knew I’d do it. For Erin, I’d do just about anything.

I read over the message one last time, finally allowing my brain to process the part it wanted to skip over. She’d had the abortion without me. That fact made my gut clench with anger, or maybe it was hurt. I’d wanted to be there for her, to help in any way I could. I was hoping to get some closure myself that way.

It had taken everything I had in me to hand her that money and be supportive of her choice, when it was the last thing I wanted for my own life. Mentally I’d been browsing baby name books, putting together a nursery, and playing catch with my son or daughter in a front yard I didn’t yet have.

Her body, her choice. I considered myself a feminist, enough that I believed that. I just didn’t believe that it was a choice anyone I was with would ever have to make. Then I was stupid enough to get an ambitious woman like Erin, still in her first year of med school, pregnant. That was my bad. Erin wanted children someday, and she’d be an amazing mother, but someday was not today.

There was a part of me somewhere deep inside that hoped we’d have a second chance together to get it right. Sometime in the far-off distant future. Pushing all my regrets and what ifs out of my brain, I focused on what I could do for her now. Today. How could I support her?

I had to start by answering her text, just as she’d finally answered mine.

After typing and deleting a handful of responses that ranged anywhere from “I’ve never really done non-physical or long-distance discipline” to “You were supposed to let me know when the appointment was so I could go with you”. I finally settled on:

Sure. How can I help?

The answering response came through almost immediately, reassuring me that she’d probably just been busy earlier.

I’m not sure. Aren’t you supposed to be the Daddy? You tell me.

It was followed by an emoji—the cross-eyed smiley face with his tongue sticking out.

The message was clear. She’d given all the input she was going to or able to. It was up to me at this point. I was the Daddy.

Okay, sassy brat. I hear you. Let me put a plan together and I’ll be in touch.

I sent the text off, but my stomach clenched. I couldn’t just pretend like everything was fine. It didn’t feel fine, and I was the kind of man that usually followed his gut.

Yes, Daddy.

She responded. It should help that she was being her bratty self, but it didn’t. It wasn’t enough.

Erin, are you sure you’re okay?

The little cloud of dots appeared, disappeared, and reappeared multiple times before her response came through.

I’m fine.

You’re not lying to your Daddy, are you?

It shouldn’t have taken her that long to type two words, but how hard was I supposed to push her? Maybe reminding her of our dynamic would be enough. But maybe not.

I’m exhausted and hormonal but nothing out of the ordinary. I just need some help getting back on track and staying there.

Well, that made sense and was a little bit more explanatory. My worries subsided a bit, but I sent off one more text just to be sure.