Chapter 22

22

DIANNA

D ianna'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."

"Well, if Dianna wants?—"

"Oh, I'm fine. I don't need the extra sweets." She tried to play it off, but even she could hear the strained tone of her voice. She was failing miserably at hiding that she felt off-centered now. It was like a weight had been placed on one shoulder and she had to use all her mindpower to compensate for the change. "Let's just go get our skates. I'll get some fudge later." She flashed Mathew a smile and was relieved when he offered one in return.

They got to the rink and there were no mishaps except for finding a pair of skates to fit Tristan. While the guy in the back started looking for those, Dianna took Mathew to the ice. He clutched her hand tightly, not speaking. That was fine by her. She'd far prefer to stay locked inside her mind with her thoughts.

"Do you love my dad?" Mathew's voice was strong and direct, and it had thrown her off guard. She nearly slipped on the ice and had to reach out to grasp the side of the rink.

"What?"

"Do you love my dad? I've heard him say he loves you. Do you love him?"

She gave him a side-eyed glance. "I suppose I do."

"How do you know?"

Dianna bit back a smile. "I don't really know."

"You don't know how you know you love him?" His features scrunched into a frown. "Aren't you supposed to know?"

She tilted her head, getting better at keeping her balance as they continued skating in a circle with slow, short steps. "I don't think anyone really knows the answer to that question. It could be a lot of little reasons or just one big one. And I think it's different for everyone."

"But you love him."

"Yes."

The look of pure concentration on Mathew's face was just the ticket to distract herself from her own spiraling thoughts.

"Why do you ask?"

He ignored her question and threw another curve ball at her. "Why aren't you a mom?"

She slowed and stared at him. "Why are you asking me that?"

Mathew shrugged. "You're a grown-up and you don't have kids."

"No, I don't."

"Do you want to be a mom?"

That was the question of the century. Even as he asked it, she couldn't say she knew the answer to it. She'd always thought it would be difficult to raise her own children. Working with other people's kids was different. She cleared her throat and focused on a spot ahead of them as she attempted to find her words. "I think I'd like to be a mother one day. But I guess I'm a little scared."

"Why?"

She let out a strained laugh. "You ask some pretty hard questions." Dianna gnawed on the inside of her cheek. She couldn't exactly tell him that she was scared she would fight with her children. Nor could she say that she was scared she'd end up having a kid who was simply difficult. If she knew him like she thought she did, he'd probably internalize those statements. He was far too bright to brush off answers like that. They stopped, and she crouched down to look him in the eye. "Have you ever been afraid of something and then when you gave it a try, you realized you didn't have anything to be afraid of?"

His brows pinched together. "I don't know."

"Hmm." She searched her memories of their sessions and her eyes lifted once more to meet his. "Remember when you were scared to get Molasses to jump over that first bar?"

He nodded.

"Are you scared anymore?"

Mathew shook his head.

"See? That's what it's like for me. I bet that if I decided to become a mother, I would be really scared until I actually got to be one."

They stared at one another for a few moments, and then with a tone full of pure honesty, Mathew said, "I think you'd be a good mom."

Her heart stuttered and hot emotion seared the space behind her eyes. Voice cracking, she brushed at a single tear before it could reach her cheek. "Thank you, Mathew."