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“Not if you didn’t want it. But I’m sure if she said yes to marrying me, she’d like to be.” Tristan couldn’t get a read on him. In the beginning, Mathew had wanted Dianna to be part of the family. This outburst was the first time he’d shown any adverse reaction to Dianna. That was to be expected at some point. Eventually, the newness would wear off and Mathew would realize that Dianna would still have certain expectations whether or not she was in his life in a motherly capacity. Tristan glanced at Mathew once more. “If I asked her to marry me and she said yes, you’re old enough to decide if you’d call her ‘mom.’”
Mathew’s brows were drawn together as if this decision would make or break the rest of his life. “I don’t know.”
“You don’t have to know yet. I just wanted to tell you what I was thinking about.”
“Okay.”
“What do you say? Should we go find Dianna now?”
Mathew nodded. “I still want that knife.”
Tristan chuckled. “I know. You’ll get one, eventually, when you’ve been able to show you can handle it.”
“That’s going to be forever.”
He ruffled Mathew’s hair. “Sometimes it sure seems that way.”
22
Dianna
Dianna’s heart raced, but it wasn’t the calming kind. There were several different types of heart rates that Tristan had been able to stir within her. There was the kind that made her feel seen and heard—the one that made her think if there was such a thing as love, it was something she had for him.
Then there was the exhilarating kind that made her pulse race right alongside her heart and gave her bursts of adrenaline. Those were usually when she kissed him, and they made her stomach twist in a pleasant kind of way.
The third kind was happening now and she hated it.
Her palms were sweating and her heart hammered with a tempo that brought along with it the anxiety she had a tendency to experience. Over the years, Dianna had been able to figure out a way to control that anxiety. She avoided situations where it was exacerbated. It was the feeling she’d had when she disappeared that morning after the party. And right now, it was telling her that she should go home to avoid having to deal with Tristan when he came back.
There were some triggering words he’d used that rubbed her the wrong way. It was like he’d pricked her with several splinters, and they had just gotten under her skin enough that she couldn’t pull them out.
Tristan didn’t see Mathew the way she did. Granted, he would never truly understand his son and the things that triggered him. Which meant there was a possibility that he wouldn’t understand her no matter how long they spent together.
Stop it, she admonished herself. Tristan wasn’t like the other people she observed in town. If anyone would be able to relate to her, it was him. If she could just get past these niggling thoughts of doubt and fear, maybe she’d be able to find the happiness her sisters had found.
And yet, as she picked up the last of the pocketknives, she knew she wouldn’t be able to stay in town. She needed to go home and reevaluate what she wanted in a relationship—if she wanted a relationship at all. Would future stresses and arguments turn her into someone just like his ex? She couldn’t imagine leaving because of Mathew; that wouldn’t be fair. But even she knew that this relationship was a little different. If she were to marry Tristan, she’d be accepting the responsibility of raising his child with him.
And their styles of parenting were vastly different—that much was clear.
Dianna wrung her hands together and inched back the way they’d been walking. She could call one of her sisters to pick her up, or she might be able to find someone who could take her toward her ranch if they were leaving. Already she was feeling sick to her stomach for wandering away. She really ought to tell Tristan that she needed to go home for a little while.
She only made it toward the beginning of the booths when she heard her name called out.
“Dianna!”
Her whole body froze, except her heart. That continued to bang wildly against the walls of her chest. They were supposed to go ice-skating. She could do that. It wasn’t supposed to last too long. Maybe by the time they got off the rink, she’d be calm enough to get past this strange reaction she was having.
Dianna forced a smile and turned around, finding Tristan holding Mathew’s hand. Tristan didn’t seem to notice her unease, or if he did, he ignored it. He held up a slingshot. “Mathew decided to go for this one instead. I hope we didn’t take too long.” He looked down at Mathew and for all intents and purposes, his son seemed in better spirits. There wasn’t any animosity between them—more evidence of Tristan’s talent at being a good father.
The vise grip around her heart eased up a little. She shook her head and swallowed down the lump that had formed. “No. You didn’t take too long. I was just…” She glanced to the side where a table had been set up with fudge. “I was just going to get some fudge.”
“Mmm. That sounds good. What do you say, Mathew? Would you like some fudge?”
Mathew eyed Dianna, and that’s when she saw something she hadn’t seen before. He wasn’t as open toward her as he used to be. The sparkle that they shared had dimmed. It couldn’t possibly be due to the argument, could it?
Well, she knew better than that. Children were notorious for holding grudges.
Mathew broke eye contact first. “I just want to go ice-skating.”
