I hate how the way he looks at me makes butterflies flutter around in my stomach.


    "This one of yours?" he asks, jerking his chin toward the painting. He finally pulls his gaze away from me, and I let out a breath I didn''t realize I was holding.


    "Yes," I say, nodding. I step up beside him, looking up at therge painting of a little green-eyed toddler sitting in a field of flowers. "I painted it when Miles was two.!


    Arthur stares at the painting in silence for a few moments longer, and I stare along with him. I still remember the day I painted this, the summer sunshine warming my shoulders as I worked. Miles was quiet then, his tiny fingers contentedly ying with the


    flowers.


    But the memory is bittersweet, too, because it was the day after I found out that Miles was behind-developmentally, I''d noticed that something was off when he wasn''t babbling and trying to form words like most toddlers, and while Brian and Liam and I first tried to brush it off as Miles simply being introverted, we couldn''t ignore it any longer.


    The doctor said that he might be on the spectrum. Not that it bothered me, of course, but it was still a lot to take in.


    He didn''t start talking until he was four. Now, aside from a mild speech impediment, Miles is developing at a perfectly normal rate. He still goes nonverbal at times, and has his own hyperfixations and particrities, and sometimes I swear he''s older beyond his years, but to me, that''s just what makes him ''him''.


    And I wouldn''t have it any other way.


    I wonder, though, what Arthur would think if I told him. He''d probably just view Miles as even more of an "other". For all I know, he''d just me his development on having a human mother.


    But I push the thought away when Miles emerges from his room, wearing apletely mismatched outfit consisting of one


    dinosaur sock, one pink sock, a pair of id shorts, and a t-shirt with a cartoon character on it.


    He grins up at us, disying the one missing canine tooth in his mouth. "I''m ready!"


    I can''t help butugh as I hold my hand out to him. "You look fabulous, kid." But I


    can''t help but nce at Arthur, wondering if


    this might be a further embarrassment for him.


    To my surprise, he''s smiling, and it softens me. With that, we head outside, where Arthur''s car is waiting. A little whileter, we''re pulling up to the amusement park, Miles swinging his legs and humming happily in the backseat.


    As Arthur pulls into a parking spot, I can''t fully hide the smile that''s tugging at my lips. This feels... normal. Like the sort of thing a family might do.


    But the feeling quickly dissipates when Arthur reaches across myp, opens the glovepartment, and pulls out two more baseball hats-one adult size, and one for a child. "Can you put these on?"


    +20 Bonus


    "What?"


    Arthur taps the brim of his own hat. "I can''t be seen.... I''m sure you understand."


    My jaw clenches tightly as the realization settles over me. Of course. Of course he can''t be seen with me, with us with his sordid,


    forbidden human mistress and his half-blood son. If I had thought of this beforehand, I would have refuseding here at all.


    It''s toote now, though. So I snatch the hats away, but make no effort to hide my annoyance as I jam one onto my head. If Arthur


    notices my frustration, he doesn''t say anything as he slips his sunsses on and gets out of the car.


    And yet, as I watch him help Miles out of his car seat and lift him onto his shoulders, as I watch Miles gawk quietly at all of the


    sights and sounds of the amusement park, clutching Arthur''s neck, I find it difficult to stay angry.


    If only it weren''t for... well, everything, I might say that Arthur is acting like the perfect father..