Chapter 25

That weekend, Rachel was a bit of a mess.

She'd blitzed the flat, as if a lack of laundry on the dryer was going to make her more appealing as a potential live-in partner, and had hoovered every inch of her living room. Even under the sofa. Because Isla regularly looked under the sofa. Not.

By the time Isla arrived, on the Friday night, Rachel had worked herself into such a state that she'd retreated into the princess tent with her kitty stuffie, and was hiding from the world.

"Hello? babygirl?" Isla went quiet when she saw all the blankets that Rachel had dragged into the princess tent with her. "Oh babygirl, are you okay?"

She didn't wait for an answer, but crawled in on her hands and knees. "Want a cuddle from Daddy?"

A saddened Rachel nodded and launched herself at Daddy Isla, who—she knew—would deliver on the best, most comforting, cuddles ever.

"Daddy, I wanted to talk to you," said Rach, but her voice was slightly higher pitched than normal, and she realized that she'd slipped into Little space.

Isla could clearly tell too, as she gathered Rachel into her arms and hushed her, rocking her back and forth. "We have the whole weekend to talk, babygirl. Maybe for now we just curl up in here and relax?"

"Okay, Daddy," said Rachel. The rocking was very soothing, and when Isla added hair stroking to the repertoire, Rachel's eyes began to feel heavy…

When she awoke, Isla was lying next to her, arms still encircling Rachel, snoring. It was an adorable sight, and though Rach didn't love the snoring, she wanted to fall asleep to the sounds of it each and every night.

She shuffled to get closer, and Isla blinked awake. "Oh hey, I guess I fell asleep too."

"Yeah," said Rachel. "I'm not Little anymore; can we talk?"

Something akin to panic flitted across Isla's face, but she nodded. "Sounds like Big talk. On the sofa?"

"Yes please."

But once they were sat there, Rachel didn't know how to begin. "I'm a bit embarrassed," she started. "I tried to tidy the flat and make it all nice for you coming down, but I think I overdid it slightly and tired myself out."

Isla laughed. "That's okay, I understand. But also, you don't need to blitz the flat just because I'm down for the weekend. We can always do the cleaning together; I don't mind."

"Yes, but…"

"But what?"

"But if we do that than you'll think that I can't do it on my own, and I can!"

Isla looked confused. "I mean, you've already proven this evening that you can do it on your own; I'm just saying that you don't have to."

"But I wanted… I wanted to show you that I'm good at being tidy and cleaning so that you know that you don't have to do it for me all of the time." Rachel took a deep breath. "I know that I joke sometimes about ADHD being a superpower, and it is. But it's also super hard; struggling to focus on one task, or being so hyperfocused on it that I can't see anything else. I get laundry blindness, and the washing up scares me sometimes because it feels like it never ends."

Isla didn't interrupt, didn't tell her that she was making a fuss out of nothing. She just reached out, held Rachel's hand, and listened.

"I love you and you're amazing and, frankly, I want to live with you. But I do find myself worrying that you'll end up taking on too much responsibility in this relationship, and resenting me."

There was quiet, and Isla looked like she was really considering what Rachel had said.

"I think I get what you mean," she said eventually, "in that I understand where you're coming from. Doesn't mean that I entirely agree with how you're characterizing all of that though. I think we're a good team. I support you and you support me. And yes, I'm your Daddy, so there are some things where I'm a bit more in charge—making sure you eat, checking you get a good night's sleep—but all of those things are with your consent, and they've been negotiated between the two of us."

She squeezed Rachel's hand, and Rachel began to feel a smidgeon of hope.

"But I don't feel like I'm taking on too much responsibility. You have your own passions and hobbies—your work, the Littles' Market—and you have a good network of people down here who support you in those things. You're making new friends and building a community. I think I would worry if I were the only person in your life, the only person you could turn to with anxieties or pressures, because that would be a lot to put on one person, and it also wouldn't foster any independence, and I want that for you. I want our relationship to be one of interdependence, not codependence. And I think that's what we're building. You're doing good, my darling."

Rachel's lip trembled and she tried to fight back the inevitable tears. It was so exhausting, considering all the time how much pressure she might be putting on Isla, just by being herself. It was an element of neurodiversity that she'd never seen discussed much, and it was one that made her realize how much of an intersection there was between neurodiversity and disability. Life was hard, and made harder by the way her brain worked.

"It's okay," said Isla, tugging her close. "You can cry. I got you, babygirl."

"I love you," said Rachel, in between tears. "I really really love you."

"My darling," said Isla. "I love you so much that it still surprises me."