As I stood at the edge of Tristan’s bedroom door, watching him play with his collection of toy cars, a nervous flutter twisted in my stomach. How could I ask him this? It felt like such a big question for a boy so young, but I knew it was important. Tristan had always been at the center of my world, and any decision I made that affected him needed his voice, his blessing.
Andrew and I had been dancing around this possibility for a while now, but ever since our late-night conversation where I admitted my feelings for him, the question of whether we could actually move forward had lingered. And now, here I was, about to ask my son for his opinion on the man who had become such a big part of our lives.
I took a deep breath and knocked gently on the doorframe. Tristan looked up from his toys
