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Mathew had a blast decorating but lost steam around the twelfth cookie. It was getting late and his mood had shifted to something stereotypically ornery. He got frustrated with how the gingerbread man was turning out and ended up throwing the butterknife on the floor.
Dianna jumped, but Tristan moved in quickly. “Hey, bud. It’s getting late and we had an early morning. How about I tuck you in.” He reached for Mathew’s hand, but his son tore it away from him.
“No! I’m not tired.”
Tristan and Dianna exchanged glances and she moved closer. “Mathew, the cookies will be here in the morning. You can decorate some more then.”
Mathew glowered at her. “I don’twantto go to bed.”
“Don’t you think you’d feel better if you got some extra sleep? I know we don’t have a ride scheduled for Sunday, but we could probably still head out early if you’d like.” Dianna was truly the level-headed one.
When Mathew’s shoulders relaxed and he climbed down from the chair where he sat, it almost made Tristan wonder what he’d done up until this point with his son. Dianna was showing him up. Would it get to a point where she might even think he wasn’t capable of controlling Mathew?
That was ridiculous.
Once again Tristan was letting his concerns and frustrations get the better of him. Dianna had no reason to think that Tristan was anything other than a good parent. Granted, she didn’t have any reason to think he was great either.
He shoved those disparaging thoughts aside. He couldn’t afford to get into his own head about any of this. Mathew needed to get ready for bed, and Dianna was still putting cookies into the oven.
Tristan mouthed the words “thank you” to her, then guided Mathew toward the bedroom to get changed into his pajamas.
Dating his ex had been so much simpler back before he had a child. Back then, it felt like he was able to wander through wildflowers without a care in the world. Starting a relationship now felt like he was walking through that same field, but now it was riddled with landmines. One wrong step could ruin not only his life, but also that of his son and Dianna’s.
It would be best to get a lot of these concerns out in the open and soon, but again, that felt like a very bad idea. He couldn’t be selfish here. He had to let things happen at a pace that Dianna was comfortable with. Otherwise, he could risk losing her.
20
Dianna
Dianna placed another cookie sheet in the oven and brushed some stray strands of hair from her forehead with the back of her hand. She still couldn’t believe she’d blurted the information about her condition. It wasn’t something she even spoke of freely with her family. It was something that she’d stumbled upon on her own and kept to herself.
In fact, she didn’t even know if her family was aware that she had several of the characteristics of a person with Autism. She wouldn’t be surprised if they brushed it off either. That’s what a lot of people seemed to do.
From her experience, a neurotypical person usually viewed someone like her as a person with bad manners. She was blunt and could say things that hurt others—however unintentional. She’d learned from an early age how to keep her thoughts to herself, though public figures were praised for their ability to tell things how it was.
Somehow Tristan was different.
She’d been worried early on with all his talk about needing to help Mathew become something he wasn’t. The way he wanted Mathew to conform to everything society wanted him to be.
However, lately Tristan had seemed to come to understand that Mathew didn’t need to conform in the way he wanted him to. Were there certain expectations that everyone needed to follow as a society? Of course. Did that mean that Mathew needed toconstantlyseek approval from everyone? No. He needed to learn how to advocate for himself, and he needed to understand when there was a time when speaking was important and a time when he could decline to comment.
Those were the biggest issues she noticed with him besides his inability to cope when things went south for him.
She glanced up when Tristan materialized back in the kitchen. He didn’t look nearly as happy and content as he had earlier. Though she wasn’t as great at reading expressions as she wished she was. The tension in the room had elevated when Mathew got past the point of patience.
It got her thinking that maybe Tristan viewed those situations like they were threats—like he needed to contain whatever explosion was about to take place.
Tristan didn’t say anything as he moved closer to her, step-by-step. He stopped about a foot before her and reached for her hands.
It was a gesture that she’d both loved and dreaded before she’d found herself in this relationship. Unnecessary touching was a pet peeve of hers. Now, she found she enjoyed any way he showed his affection.
Tristan rubbed his thumbs over the backs of her hands. “I don’t think I’ll ever get to be as good as you are with him.” His voice sounded almost sad—like if he were an instrument, he was speaking in a minor chord.
Her brows creased. “It’s not a competition.”
A shadow passed over his expression. “No, it’s not. But…”
“But what?” She tilted her head, giving her better access to view his face. “Are you upset I stepped in?”
