Season's Greetings : Christmas Box Set

Ice sculptures! “Of course, lead the way.”

He wrap

s an arm around my waist and grips my hip, pressing me against him. This time, I am the one who relishes the extra contact. The ice sculpture is incredible with its detailed clock and bold lettering. A DJ plays music while people mingle, and others move toward the dance floor. It’s a small, intimate affair. Exclusive. I smile and shake hands as people stop Sam to ask him how he’s been. I can see his energy lag like a batter being overtaxed. I tug on his jacket sleeve, and he peers down. Bending, he presses his ears to my lip. I shiver involuntarily.

“Why don’t you take a minute to recharge?”

“Is it that obvious?” he whispers back.

“Only to those who really know you.”

“Will you be okay?”

I nod. “I’ll stalk the snacks.” I wiggle my eyebrows. His lips curve up at the corners, and my heart squeezes. He’s a sweet cinnamon roll I want to devour ... literally.

“Alright. I’ll slip into my room for a bit.” He squeezes my hand. “Thank you.”

“I will always have your back, babe.”

“You’ve never called me that before.”

“Do you like it?” Butterflies tickle the inside of my belly.

“I do.”

Spinning on my heel, I lose myself in the crowd, enjoying the holiday music and top-forty hits as I skim off the serving trays. Who doesn’t love a bacon-wrapped date? I enjoy the snowy landscape and the peacefulness, creeping my way onto the balcony warmed by heating elements. It’s quiet here in the corner I’ve found. I could use a bit of revitalizing. Closing my eyes, I savor the flavor of my cream puff.

“I was hoping we’d get a chance to talk.”

I turn mid-chew and swallow with a gulp. I cover my mouth, hoping there aren’t any lingering crumbs or cream. I clear my throat. “Me?” Is that my voice so high and shaky?

“Yes. The woman who caught my son’s attention.” She glances around. “Where is he? He hasn’t left your side all evening.”

“He went to recharge in his room. I told him I’d hold down the fort solo for a bit.”

“How thoughtful.” Her lips curve up into a cold smile.

My stomach drops to the floor.

“I’m sure you’ve noticed Sam is different. He seems to think you can handle that. Me, I’m not so sure.”

“If this is about him being an Aspie, I have plenty of my own experience. My brother was diagnosed in his teens—”

“Brother? I thought you were an orphan.”

The O-word hurts. “Well, yes, he was my foster brother, but we’ve formed our own family.”

“How quaint. So, you understand how their mind works.”

“I have an idea. No two people are the same, and Aspies are no different. When he’s getting overwhelmed, I can pick up on it and understand that he’s not rude. He has problems with social cues and tone.”

“And you think you can have a fulfilling relationship this way?”

“I’ve done it before.”

“So, you’re what ... an Aspie chaser?” Her nose wrinkles in disgust.

Her words sting. “No. I’m a neurotypical person not opposed to dating someone who’s neuro-diverse.”