Daddy’s Baby: A Military BDSM Secret Baby Romance

by S. L. Finlay

  "But not a mean one!" she was quick to tell me, "it was a funny trick - even the teacher laughed!" She told me.

  Shaking my head at her words, I turned back to the road. The store was nearby and would be our last stop before going back home. I felt like a real home body on our Fridays at home. Editing all week was hard work, then chasing around after my daughter too when I wasn't at my job was also hard work. I didn't have time at the end of the week to even think, much less to worry about anything else.

  I did have time to relax though, and time for my daughter I thought as we turned into the store. Time to cherish her while she was still small enough to enjoy it.

  Normally I would have done the shopping in the morning after dropping my daughter off at school, but that morning, after a week of long days, I had decided to go straight to my bed to have a nap. Now I would have to deal with everyone else who had left this to the last moment I thought as I looked around the parking lot.

  I had told myself that I would walk more as I lived near the center of town, but there was no way I was going to stick to that. Humans are lazy, I told myself time and time again as I went against my walking-to-town rule. My laziness was normal. It was normal to not walk when you had a car and life was easier because of it.

  So I found a parking space eventually and pulling in breathed a sigh of relief. The place was too busy. This town had not always been busy, this business was new, I told myself. It was new because a few new estates had opened up on the edges of town. Those estates didn't have much going for them, either. They were sleepy communities, just a bunch of houses all in rows, with no stores or schools or other facilities. For those things, the residents would need to come to town, in their cars. Because, unlike me who was lazy, they really did live too far from the town to just walk.

  I tried to not blame myself for the delay as I held the door open for my daughter to climb from the back seat before locking the car and taking my daughters hand to help her across the parking lot.

  She was still gossiping about her day, and I was still listening and giving appropriate reactions at the right times, just as I always did when my daughter got home from school and felt the need to tell me every little detail of her day.

  We entered the busy store and I lifted my daughter - still chatting animatedly - into the cart so she could sit there and gossip to me. Not missing a beat, her talking, and the amount of people in here, had thrown me off.

  Forgetting sugar for a cake I wanted to bake later, and seeing how many people I would need to deal with going backwards through the isle, I turned to my daughter and told her, "you wait here, I'll just be a sec!"

  She protested loudly, but I knew I would just be a few moments, so ignored her protestations as I ran in the other direction, darting through shoppers as I went.

  When I arrived at the isle where the sugar was supposed to be, I realized that it was no longer there. They had moved it and by the time I got someone to help me, I knew my daughter would be in full temper-tantrum mode. I pushed on anyway, as I had made a point of going off to find sugar. When I got some help, and with sugar in hand I went to find my daughter, and to comfort her as she would be annoyed at me because I left her mid way through her telling me a story, and she hated that level or rudeness.

  But when I returned, she was nowhere to be seen.

  Shocked, I asked the person nearest to me, "have you seen - did you see a little girl in a cart around here?"

  The woman, a rotund middle-aged woman with broad-set eyes and the look of someone who hadn't quite heard you, even as she had, looked at me for a moment before shaking her head.

  Looking around, no-one else looked like they would be much help, everyone appeared to be actively avoiding my gaze actually. That was something that had started when the new estates came in, people just ignored one another, the usual sense of community had gone.

  With sugar still in hand, I ran towards the service desk. I had taught my daughter many times that if ever she got lost somewhere, she should find someone who worked in a place and ask them for help.

  Maybe she had felt lost.

  And all I had wanted was sugar.

  Rushing towards the desk, I stopped up short as I almost ran into her cart.

  There was my daughter, still sitting in the cart. Someone else had moved her. Just as my heart slowed at having found my daughter and her being safe and well, it sunk when I realized who had found her. Of all the people in the world, I struggled to believe that it was this person simply by chance. How could it be?

  Standing before me, in all her beauty, was that gorgeous southern belle who had made my ex-fiance dinner just the other day.

  My eyes grew wide, and hers did too, and hers were in recognition.

  "I've seen you before!" She cried, excited. I almost expected her to jump up and down clapping her hands as she told me, "he told me about you!"

  And the he - my ex fiance, and the father of my daughter who they had obviously found in the cart and had just tried to rescue unknowingly - was standing right beside my daughter as she sat in the cart, looking a little confused by this whole situation.

  I watched as it slowly dawned on Zac, looking from me, to the child in the cart, and back to me again. It was slow, but as the penny dropped, I felt a sense of dread. This was not how I wanted either of them to find out about the other. Actually, if I was honest, I didn't want them to ever find out about each other. All of my carefully laid plans were lost in that moment of realization.

  But, just as I felt myself loosing control, I heard him ask his daughter the question that gripped my heart, "how old are you, sweetheart?"

  Without a word, my daughter held up five fingers for a long moment, then, as if he didn't get it - because his face was incredulous as he realized something that she never could - my daughter told her father, "I'm five!"

  Then, it was as if time had stopped. Zac realized who this girl was, and I realized the mistake I had made, the mistake I had never accepted that I had made.

  Zac rounded on me, "is she-?"

  All I could do was nod, nod and bite my lip, holding back tears. The tears of betrayal, of regret. He had a right to know, and I had never told him. It was now or never, and I couldn't lie to this man. After all, he had a right to be a part of her life, but I had never told him a damn thing.

  Now here he was, with this beautiful woman, obviously trying to move on with his life. Here he was, trying to do the right thing by a lost child he had found in a super market, only to realize that that child was his all too late.

  But what had he even been doing in my town in the first place? And how serious was he with this woman anyway? Would he tell her who I was - who his daughter was? Or would he simply shrug his shoulders and walk away?

  I know a lot of men would have done that, a lot of men would just say no, I don't care. It might be my child, but I have had no hand in raising it. I don't want anything to do with it.

  There were a lot of men - in the army especially - who had children by multiple women, and if they paid child support at all, it was only a small amount of child support anyway. These men would knock girls up when they were somewhere visiting, or touring, or deployed. They would often use a fake name so they couldn't be traced even if the girl did go to the military after her child was born and tried to introduce the child to its father.

  These men all had something in common: they had nothing at all to do with their progeny. A part of me wanted Zac to remain one of those men. I had made the decision when my daughter was born that she would just be my daughter. That she would be raised without a father, and that I was okay with that.

  Now, he knew about her. What would happen? What would he want from her? From us?

  I bit my lip again for a long moment, unsure of what to say or do. Knowing that I was on a knife edge.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  There had been a stale mate for a long time - or what felt like a long time - when Zac had first discovered that the child was his.

>   He mostly stared down at her, then up at me, then down at her for a long time without saying anything. The Southern Belle who had been with him had made a point when she must have realized what had happened - or at least realized from the look on my face and his lack of interest in her that she wasn't welcome right now - of disappearing down a nearby isle while muttering something about her needing to find some ingredient.

  I appreciated what she had done, as it seemed to break the tension a little, but I still didn't want Zac near our child in that moment, I wanted him as far as possible away from her. I wanted him to be out of the way, because I had lost control of the situation. I hadn't wanted them to meet, and even if I did want this to happen, it would have been orchestrated by myself, not a random happening in a super market.

  Thanking a very shocked Zac, I tried to take control of the cart where my daughter sat but he wasn't going to let me. My trying to take her away forced him to ask the question, "why didn't you tell me?"

  The sadness in Zac's eyes ripped my heart in two. I could feel my lower lip wobble, like the little girl who I knew existed inside me. I felt the sadness from hurting and disappointing my Daddy, but also the sadness and fear of losing control. I had lost control. Here was a situation which I should have had under control, that I no longer held any control over.

  Pulling myself together I answered his question, and a million unanswered questions he must have had over the years, with another question, "why didn't you tell me?"

  Zac's face went through a range of emotions, each flicking over his features before he set it, hard. I caught confusion and hurt and sadness before more confusion then finally the stoniness that he consciously put there.

  "Tell you what?" Zac asked, his tone as measured as his facial expression.

  "About her." I told him, forcing my voice to stay even. I had spent so many nights crying over this other woman from the pictures, and I wasn't about to let that hurt show now. I was going to be just as stony right back to Zac as he had been to me.

  Shaking his head slightly, that look of confusion back on his face, Zac asked me, "who?" before motioning in the direction of where the Southern Belle had disappeared in, with a questioning look on his face. As if to ask, 'you mean her?'

  I shook my head, I knew she wasn't the one from the photos. This woman was new, and beautiful. I couldn't imagine someone like that trying to steal your boyfriend, she had too much to offer. The Southern Belle wasn't someone from some photos from years ago besides, this ghost I had been living with since before I had left Zac, when he was still my fiance and Daddy. I knew the difference between the two women like I knew the difference between an apple and an orange, and it frustrated me that this man was trying to pretend he didn't understand what I was getting at. Time hardly passed between times when I would think of this other woman, after all. When images of her - of them together - would invade my mind.

  "No." I told him, frustrated at his playing dumb, "not her. The other one."

  Zac's face was still confused as he shook his head slightly and asked, "who then?"

  I took a deep breath and looked down at my daughter, who had been only quiet, listening and watching. I was sure she was trying to figure out what was going on. She seemed to sense the gravity of this situation and had been staring at me when I looked down at her. I gave her a little smile as I turned back to Zac and told him, "if you don't know, I am not going to spell it out for you." Then made a move as if to get my daughter out of the cart, but Zac put his hand on my arm which had risen from my side. My eyes met his and he shook his head as if to tell me that no, it wasn't a good idea that I reach for that child. He wasn't done with me yet.

  From all the time that I had been with Zac, I knew not to push his buttons. Zac had a bad tempter and unlike many people, he would have no shame about losing his shit in a supermarket. He wouldn't mind yelling and screaming, making a scene. I didn't want to do anything to encourage that, so simply stood still and held his eyes.

  "I need you to tell me what you are talking about." He told me, visibly frustrated and mad. "Because it's you who disappeared. It's you who went off on your own without any explanation, then this!" His last words were said while motioning to our daughter, who was making a face of confusion that looked somewhat like his confused face. Something that I didn't love about her in this moment. Almost as if her very face - with its similarity to him - was betraying me.

  It was eerie how much they looked like one another, even down to facial expressions. Stranger still because she had never met him to imitate his facial expressions.

  Sighing deeply I told him, "I am willing to have this conversation, but not here. Not in front of her."

  "Okay..." he agreed, trailing off. "Where then?" His question wasn't as much a question as a demand, a 'you tell me where, and I'll be there. When I arrive, I want all the answers.'

  I nodded at his unspoken commands. I had been so used to those when we had been together, when Zac had been my Daddy. I was so used to being told off in just this way that it barely even registered for me. I simply nodded and told him, "okay, we can meet for a coffee."

  "Where?" He asked.

  "There's a coffee shop a few streets up from here, purple sign out front, purple walls inside. We can meet there." I told him.

  "When?" He asked.

  I was thinking for a long moment when the Southern Belle reappeared with a few random things she had picked up while she was intentionally staying away. Silently I thanked here before I looked her over as she gave me a big, pleasing smile. Like we were old friends. I did not return it, even as I was grateful that she had made this that little bit easier. Instead of smiling back at the new girl, I answered Zac's question, "You can meet me Monday afternoon while she's at gymnastics."

  Zac let out a long breath that he'd obviously been holding, "I can't meet her again?" He asked, sadness in his voice.

  "No," I began, "I didn't say that. You can, but we have plenty to talk about first."

  "If I knew -" Zac began, his voice sounding dangerous before I cut him off.

  "It doesn't matter now." I told him. Not wanting to give those feelings a chance to air.

  Zac was shaking his head, sadness in his eyes.

  I didn't want to give the Southern Belle a chance to break into the conversation, as I could see she was itching to.

  "I'll see you then." I told him, taking control of the cart and my daughter again, "thank you both for making sure she is okay." I told them, but didn't stick around to hear their response.

  I got out of sight then grabbed my daughter from the cart and ran from the exit.

  "Where are we going mommy?" My daughter asked me and I simply shook my head at her.

  "We're getting burgers again." I told her, running her out of the supermarket at lighting speed as she held my neck and I held her to my hip. She was getting heavy and it wouldn't be much longer that I could do this, but for right now, we had to get away.

  Burgers it was. And avoiding this supermarket with its awful parking and apparent connection to my ex.

  But he lived so far away, I hardly knew why he would have even turned up here.

  I would find out though. That, and plenty more. All inside that little purple cafe that sat on the end of my street.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  I had never known the little purple cafe's name. It was just the purple coffee shop on the end of our street. I loved the place because it was run but an Australian couple. I had never known it, but in Melbourne, where they're from, coffee is a big deal. As a result, they bought their coffee culture with them when they came out to America to start a small business and explore the country on their days off - they were both obsessed with America, in the best way possible!

  The coffee shop was unlike others in the area because of its owners. But I liked that. I liked that they didn't have brewed coffee and that they had a barrister who made beautiful cups of milky coffee. Coffee where the milk was used to make art with a leaf or a heart or somet
imes something more elaborate. The owners and their staff chatted to you about all sorts of different things when they made this coffee art. Different to the diner waitress who always looked bored, and expected a hefty tip for her slow service.

  Lively and vibrant, as well as close to home. As good a place as any to meet someone you hadn't seen in six years, since shortly after they knocked you up.

  I arrived a few minutes early and ordered 'the usual' before sitting down near the open log fire. I took a deep breath and tried to swallow the butterflies in my tummy. It was hard meeting him, and I could leave at any time before he got here. I could disappear again. I could move. I could - but the door opened with the ding of the bell which sat there right above the door to announce customers, and there he was.

  Zac was standing just inside the door, looking at me. His face was passive, if not a little sad. I took another deep breath and stood. He walked over towards me and gave me a cuddle. He held me close to his body for a long moment, and I could feel familiar feelings waking up inside me. They were feelings I had thought were long lost, feelings that I thought weren't there anymore, yet were pushed down inside myself and denied for the longest time.

  I remembered what it was like to be held by him, how warm it was to melt inside his arms. I remembered the comfort he offered me. Remembered his smell, oh, god! He smelled so good! How I wanted to be close to that again, how I wanted to be held forever in those arms.

  There was more there though, underneath the desire to be held, to be close. As we talked, I would realize how much I missed this man who simply 'got' me, this man who understood me in a way that no-one else had. I would realize how I had never allowed myself to properly mourn that loss, and how that had hurt me in the long run.

  Dismissing all of those inconvenient thoughts from my head, and trying to focus on the here and now, I motioned for Zac to sit down. He carefully sat down across from me, and moments later, the barrister bought me my coffee and asked him what he'd like.