chapter three
Mama, it’s almost my birthday! Can we get an ice-cream cake?”
Sydney laughed, grabbing her daughter and pulling her onto her lap. “Of course. You know that’s my favorite. What do you want to do, sweetheart? Have you decided?”
Her daughter tilted her face and scrunched up her nose. “Can we go to Chuck E. Cheese?”
Sydney couldn’t help wincing. It may be a kid’s paradise, but it was a mother’s nightmare. The loud, flashing games, overexcited children hunting for prize tickets and winning only enough for a spider ring, and a large mouse character that danced in a purple sweater. She always left with a headache.
Maybe she could sneak in a flask and fill it with wine.
“Sure. Just get me a list, and we’ll send out some invitations.”
“Okay. And I want to see Uncle Cal and Morgan and Dalton and Tristan and Uncle Brady. Can they come to my party? ’Cause they’re my family.”
Her chest tightened, but she managed a breath. The guilt was manageable this time. Practice did make perfect. “Yes, honey. But we’ll have a cake for you at Uncle Cal’s house, and Morgan said she’s making your favorite dish.”
“Spaghetti and meatballs?”
“Yep.” She savored her daughter’s soft body sprawled over her lap and the scent of her coconut shampoo. Her pink T-shirt boasted her favorite Disney princess: Ariel, because she had the same color hair. Her jeans had pink sparkles and matched the glittery nail polish on her fingers and toes. Already Becca was moving away from her cuddling, demanding more alone time and independence to read, draw, or play on her Kindle. How had so much time flashed by without Sydney realizing it? She used to laugh at mothers warning her to enjoy the toddler years, when she’d just prayed to be out of diapers and formula and sleepless nights. Now her daughter was reading on her own and had a group of friends she insisted on seeing at regular revolving playdates. She was going to be a powerhouse one day, but until she grew into that power, Sydney tried to keep her daughter’s temper, and independence, in check. “I can’t believe you’re going to be seven,” she murmured, stroking her daughter’s hair.
“Was Matilda in the movie seven?” Becca asked. “ ’Cause I want to be like her.”
“I think so. Wait a minute—you want to have terrible parents who lock you up, are mean to you, and don’t let you go to school?”
Her daughter giggled. “No, but she gets to watch TV all the time. I’d like that part.”
“Brat.” Another giggle. Becca was always trying to finagle more television time. “For now, I need to get started on dinner. Sorry I’ve been working late this week. This new job will be a bit challenging, so I’ll need you to help out more and understand I won’t be home as much. Just for a while.”
“That’s okay, Mommy. I’m happy you got a premition.”
“Promotion.”
“Yeah, that. But don’t forget about my ballet recital.”
“I’d never forget your recital. Are you nervous?”
“A little.”
“We’ll get there early so I can be in the front row, okay?”
Her daughter’s smile was Sydney’s heaven and earth, making her heart explode with a fierce emotion that still humbled her. The moment Becca had pushed her way into the world, wailing in fury, Sydney had tumbled into a love that knew no bounds.
The voice she’d shoved deep inside, trapped in a locked box of her own making, slithered up to whisper.
She doesn’t just belong to you . . .
Dear God, it was getting worse. Every day since the Pierce brothers had come home, she’d struggled. Her peaceful, ordered existence was shredded. Now she was haunted every day. Every night. Haunted by the truth she’d sworn to hide when Becca was born.
Her thoughts broke off as her daughter shot out of her lap, snuggling complete. “I’m hungry, Mama. Can I go play?”
“Yes, I’ll call you when dinner’s ready.” She watched her daughter bound up the stairs, and with a sigh, she headed to the kitchen. Her home was small but perfect for the two of them, a yellow-shingled bi-level on a dead end. With a fenced-in yard, she had no worries about traffic, and she felt safe and secure, tucked away from the world. She’d decorated the house with all the girly stuff she loved—from throw pillows in bright teal to cozy afghans and fuzzy rugs supersoft under bare feet. She liked her work ruthlessly organized and her house casually messy. A good thing, because Becca was a whirlwind of activity, and Sydney was constantly reminding her to pick up her toys so she didn’t trip on Barbie dolls, DVDs, and books.
Sydney opened the refrigerator, removing the thawed tilapia and slipping into mechanical mode. She still told Becca it was special chicken, since Becca gave her a hard time about eating fish. Dumping the fish into a pan, she doctored it with citrus, dill, and basil, olive oil, fresh garlic, and Himalayan salt. She scrubbed the potatoes and slid them in the oven, then grabbed a bag of frozen peas to steam—her child’s only accommodation with green vegetables. She pulled a bottle of Chardonnay from the refrigerator and poured herself half a glass, sighing with pleasure at the first cold, fruity sip.
As she moved around the kitchen in a dance she could complete with her eyes closed, she mentally ticked down the list of items to finish before the weekend. Time was a challenge, but Charlie was a quick learner and taking on more responsibility in the office. Sydney and Tristan were visiting the site tomorrow, and she’d need to meet Adam in the city soon for final contracts. She relished being more hands-on with the renovation and creative process, but she’d stepped right into Tristan’s territory, and he wasn’t letting her forget it.
He was always . . . around. Questioning every move. Lifting that arched brow in silent regard, forcing her to doubt her initial instincts. Trying to check up on her like she was a child and hadn’t been working for the company since she was sixteen. He drove her mad, and eventually something was going to break. It was more than his judging stares and intense amber eyes. No, he seemed to be analyzing where she fit, as if trying to figure her out on a deeper level.
And that scared the hell out of her.
She set the timer and sipped her wine. God, she missed Diane. Whenever there was a problem, Sydney could sit in her cozy kitchen, talk, and be fed warm, filling food that always made her feel better. Grief struck like a stinging slap. Her grandparents had raised her with love and care, but Diane had been the mother figure she’d been missing. Growing up in the Pierce household gave her a sense of belonging, and working for the company only cemented her place. Funny, she’d always known exactly what she wanted to do with her life. She’d had no dreams of going away to college or leaving Harrington.
It had been Tristan who wanted to leave.
She stared out the window into the early-evening darkness. She’d spent her entire youth trying to force him to see her—really see her—and he’d spent most of his youth treating her like an annoying younger sister. What was it about him that had called to her from the very first day they met? Dalton was closer in age, but it was always Tristan who fascinated her. His quiet personality hid a fierceness of heart and loyalty she craved. No matter how mad his brothers made him, he was the peacemaker. As chaos reigned around him, he was the calm in a storm that soothed, offering a protection she’d always dreamed about. She’d tumbled into love with him at only eight years old, and he’d been haunting her ever since. How hard she had tried to hide her feelings, especially from Diane, not wanting to cause disapproval or concern with either of Tristan’s parents, since they were so close.
But Diane knew. Had probably always sensed her desperate longing for a man who was destined to hurt her . . .
She sat at the counter, trying to nibble on the warm chocolate chip cookie fresh from the oven. But her stomach tumbled in that sick kind of way, so she settled on sipping iced tea from the yellow sunflower cup.
“You look pretty today,” Diane said with a smile. Her dark, reddish hair was pinned up, and she looked comfortable in jeans and a loose T-shirt. She smelled of sugar, chocolate, and home. “Going somewhere special?”
Sydney tried for a casual tone. “Maybe. It’s Friday night, so some of my friends want to go out.”
“Ah, I forgot. You’re growing up so fast. Any cute boys you have your eye on?”
A blush rose to her cheeks. She shifted on the stool. “Um . . . no, well, maybe. There’s a boy in my science class. He’s smart and helps me with lab work sometimes. He may be at the movies tonight.”
“That’s my girl, going for the brains.”
“Is that what you did?” Sydney teased, trying another bite of the cookie.
Diane laughed, eyes sparkling. “Eventually. But first I started off with the bad boys. They were more fun for my wild soul.” She winked, and Sydney laughed with her.
The bang of the door echoed through the room. She stiffened, trying to breathe normally. Her heart pounded in a wild rhythm. Her inner voice hissed a reminder: Don’t look eager. Be cool.
Tristan was home.
“Mom!”
Diane shook her head and sighed. “In the kitchen, where I always am.”
He came into the kitchen. Sydney’s breath caught, and her belly did a slow tumble. His jeans were snug, emphasizing the muscled length of his thighs, and his black T-shirt stretched across his chest, showing off corded biceps and toasty-golden skin. His hair reminded her of hazelnut, a mix of brown with a hint of red, and always fell in perfect, thick waves over his brow. He smelled of pine, fall leaves, and s’mores. But that was probably just her imagination, because those were some of her favorite things in the whole world.
Sydney tried to act casual yet sophisticated as she waited for him to greet her. She propped up an elbow to tilt her head to the side, making sure her hair fell over her cheek in neat curls. God knows she’d spent hours this morning with the curling iron making sure it didn’t frizz. She’d also been careful with her makeup. Pink lips, blush, mascara, and a touch of liner made her look older. The short denim skirt showed off her bare legs, and her trendy black top was cut to emphasize the swell of her breasts. Even her girlfriends had said how good she looked today. Maybe this time he’d notice?
“Mom, can you make dinner early tonight?”
She kept her position, but he still hadn’t acknowledged her. She forced herself to speak. “Hi, Tris.” Was her tone cool and casual enough? She crossed her legs deliberately so her skirt rode up an inch higher. “How are you?”
“Oh, hey, Syd. Mom? Can you?”
Diane kissed his cheek, which he allowed because he’d learned the alternative was a big bear hug that went on for too many seconds. “Sure. How was school this week?”
“Astronomy test. Science sucks.”
She raised a brow at his language but let it slide. “Maybe Dalton can help you. He’s starting to know more than me ever since he got that telescope.” She slid the cookies from the tray onto a large plate and set it in the middle of the marble table.
“Nah, I’ll manage. Are those chocolate chip?” He snatched a few from the plate and leaned over to eat. Sydney studied him from under lashes that still seemed sticky from too much mascara. Had he even looked at her yet?
She cleared her throat. “Hey, Tristan, a few of us are going to the movies tonight. Wanna come?”
He swiveled his gaze around. Piercing amber eyes glinted with amusement and . . . tolerance. “Huh? No, thanks, I have a date tonight. Going to a concert. But you have fun.”
His indulgent smile flattened her hopes like a deflated float. “Oh, sure. A date, huh? Sounds nice.”
“Hopefully she’s not.”
Diane hit him in the arm, and he laughed, face filled with a mischief Sydney didn’t understand, but she forced herself to laugh with him like she got the joke. She’d seen some of the girls he dated before. They always had shiny straight hair and lithe, athletic bodies. They talked about things like art history and finding artistic expression without societal constrictions and paraded in and out of the house on a regular basis. But none of them stayed more than a week or two, and then Tristan would show up with a new girl.
Sydney hated every single one of them.
Suddenly she felt stupid with her too-short skirt and mascaraed lashes and lame invitation. Tristan was in college. He dated older girls who knew how to talk and dress and flirt. They probably kissed him in the front seat of the car and made out. Maybe even got to second base. She was nothing to him but a family friend who hung around his house too much. Jealousy mixed with misery for a depressing cocktail that slumped her shoulders.
Her self-flagellation was interrupted by a booming voice that made Tristan stiffen as if preparing himself for something unpleasant. “Cookies! Why am I always the last to know around here?” Christian Pierce strode in, his usual gruff face softening into a relaxed grin when he caught sight of her. “Hey, sweetheart.” He gave a whistle as he took in her outfit. “You look gorgeous! Whose heart you gonna break tonight?”
She couldn’t help smiling back, a bit of her confidence lifted. Tristan’s father treated her like she was his daughter. He was sometimes rough with his boys, but to her he remained sweet, making her feel special. “Hopefully no one’s.”
“Well, if anyone tries to break yours, I’ll make him regret it.” He patted her cheek fondly, then grabbed a cookie from the plate. “I invited your grandparents to dinner tomorrow. Can you join us?”
“Of course.”
“Good. I’m looking for some redemption from our last poker game. I still think he cheats.”
He glanced over at Tristan, and his easy smile disappeared, replaced by a hard expression. “Glad you’re back this weekend. Have a big job coming up, so you need to work tomorrow.”
“I can give you a few hours, but I need to leave by three.”
Christian practically spit with disgust. “Boy, you’ll work till the job’s done. I’m allowing you to run off to your fancy college, but your future is right here. Houses don’t get built by themselves. Have your fun on someone else’s time—not mine.”
Tristan threw his head back in challenge. Rebellion shone from his eyes. “I’m taking seventeen credits this semester, and I work my ass off. I come back each weekend to help out. Why is it never enough for you?”
Dread trickled through her veins. Tristan and his dad were constantly fighting, and it seemed to be getting worse. Diane tried to run interference, but Christian usually ended up yelling at her, too, and then Sydney felt bad for everyone. What was happening to the family she loved?
His father seemed so cold as he stared back. “ ’Cause it’s not good enough. Lately, boy, nothing you do ever is.”
Raw pain flickered in Tristan’s amber eyes. She ached to get up and go to him, but he’d only shake her off. Diane put a hand on her son’s arm. “That’s enough,” she told Christian, her voice edged with warning. “He just got home. His studies come first. If we need to hire someone else, we will.”
The tension between them practically vibrated in the air, nothing resembling the easy camaraderie a husband and wife should exhibit. “If our sons did their jobs properly, we wouldn’t need outsiders. Babying them does no good for any of us.”
“Leave Mom out of this,” Tristan clipped out.
“Fine. I’ll have your brothers take up the slack while you go enjoy yourself. I’m going back to work.”
Christian walked out. Silence fell over the kitchen.
Tristan cursed under his breath. “I’m going up to my room.”
Diane took a step forward. “Honey, wait—”
But he shot off, disappearing up the stairs.
Sydney couldn’t stand it. Seeing him in pain was too much. “I’ll check on him,” she said, sliding off the stool.
But Diane caught her hand, shaking her head. “No. Sit back down, Syd. I want to talk to you about something.”
Heart pounding, she sat. Diane took the stool next to her. She seemed to be mulling over her words carefully. “Am I in trouble?” Sydney asked.
Diane squeezed her hand, smiling. “Of course not. You, my sweet girl, are a light around here. You help balance all this male energy in the house. I think I would’ve gone a bit crazy if I wasn’t able to talk about makeup or clothes or Matthew McConaughey.”
Sydney relaxed, soaking in the warmth that emanated from Diane’s figure. This kitchen was her safe haven. She couldn’t imagine not having the Pierce family in her life forever. “I feel the same way about you. Actually, all of you. I never lacked for siblings because of the boys.”
“Even Tristan?”
Sydney sucked in a breath. Had she betrayed herself? The knowing look on Diane’s face panicked her. “Wh-wh-what do you mean?”
Diane reached out and stroked her curls. The tender gesture allowed Sydney to lean into the embrace. “Oh, honey, I know how you feel about Tristan. I knew it from day one. There was always a connection between you two.”
Her face flamed. As embarrassing as Diane’s words were, a flood of relief poured through her. It had been a secret for so long she craved to talk to someone she trusted. Even if it was Tristan’s mom. “Is it that obvious?” she asked miserably.
“Only to me. No one else suspects.” She gave a long sigh. Her eyes filled with concern and an understanding that made Sydney feel like Diane really got it. “It’s hard right now. The age difference between you makes things difficult. And Tristan is going through a stage right now—figuring out who he is and what he wants in this life.”
“Is that why he’s always with a different girl?”
“Yes. That’s what boys do. They date to figure out who they are and what they’re really looking for.”
“He doesn’t even notice me. He never did.”
Diane nodded. “I know. He’s not ready yet, sweetheart. He needs to grow up a bit, and so do you.”
“I just have all these feelings,” she whispered. “I think about him all the time. And I want him to be happy. I think I’d do anything to make him happy. Is that messed up?”
Diane reached out and hugged her tight. “No, that’s what happens when you love someone. And you have all these hormones pumping through, making you even more confused. Tristan cares about you, sweetheart, more than I think he knows. But you need to be patient. If it’s meant to be, it will happen at the right time. But don’t lose yourself in trying to make him happy. You need to find yourself, too, and that takes time.”
She heard the words, but her heart didn’t care. Sydney only knew if she could get Tristan to be interested, she’d do anything necessary to keep him. Diane pulled away. Sydney spotted a sheen of tears in her eyes, but his mom just laughed and shook her head. “My son is a kindhearted, strong man who I love more than my life. But I also know there’s something within him I can’t reach. I’ve never been able to.” Frustration tinged her voice. “He keeps himself distant. Protected. He feels responsible in ways I can’t explain and is harder on himself than anyone else could be. And one day, he’s going to need to break that barrier open to have a full life. That’s the day I hope you’re right there to help him, my sweet girl.”
Sydney sat with her in the kitchen for a long time. They talked and ate chocolate chip cookies, and she dreamed about the future.
One day, Tristan would fall in love with her.
And then everything would be perfect.
The memory floated away, jarring her back to the present.
She finished her wine and shook her head to clear her thoughts. She’d just have to live with her lingering feelings and bury the attraction. Stick to business. Be polite but distant. Eventually she’d find a nice man to date and fall in love and leave Tristan Pierce and all her memories behind for good.
Because he could never know.