All or Nothing at All
Page 33
“I need to know. Please.”
She stood up. Took a few steps. Stopped. Then made herself look at him.
“Because I could never love him the way I loved you.”
He opened his mouth, but she didn’t wait around to hear his response.
She fled.
As she drove home, she allowed the tears to burn her eyes. And she allowed the memory to take hold for just a little while . . .
The blinding-white dress hurt her vision, so she averted her gaze in the mirror. It was perfect, of course. Everything was. The wedding might be small, but it would be tasteful, with just the right touches she’d always imagined. She wore her grandmother’s veil and splurged on designer shoes with more bling than even Cinderella could stand. The dress fell perfectly away from her hips, hiding the tiny bulge she was still able to conceal. The venue was her favorite restaurant in Harrington. They’d recite their vows overlooking the marina, then settle into a happy, cozy life.
Her stomach lurched. She refused to think it was anything but a case of bridal nerves.
A discreet knock at the door to the changing suite interrupted her thoughts. The sales associate peeked in. “Sorry, Sydney, but the groom is out here to see you. I told him you wouldn’t allow him to see your dress. Shall I tell him to wait outside?”
She forced a smile. She didn’t believe in any superstitions. This marriage was based on friendship, respect, and a common goal. “It’s okay, you can send him in.”
The sales associate looked a bit disapproving, but she nodded. Sydney reached down to move her pile of clothes to the side and heard the door open and shut. “You just couldn’t wait, could you?” she teased. “I hope this won’t bring us years of bad luck.”
“I think we’ve already had our share, don’t you?”
She froze. Heart hammering, head spinning, she slowly raised her gaze to meet his.
Tristan stood before her. Dressed in a sleek charcoal suit, snowy-white shirt, and red tie, he cut an intimidating, sexy figure. The scent of the ocean filled the dressing room, driving the breath from her lungs. Timber hair fell back from his forehead in perfect waves, the red highlights visible in the bright light. Whiskey-colored eyes filled with a swirl of rage, and something more, something that beat down his usual distant control and whipped at her in waves of male power. A muscle in his jaw ticked. His hands clasped into tight fists.
He was overwhelmingly pure, primitive male, and her body immediately flared to life, weeping to move closer and take him into her arms as she’d done so many times before.
Instead, she locked down those messy emotions and forced herself to stand her ground. It was crucial to get him to understand it was over. She had too much to protect.
“What are you doing here, Tristan?” she asked quietly.
His gaze snapped over her, taking in the wedding dress and veil. “I don’t believe this,” he ground out. “You’re getting married?”
“Yes.”
“The hell you are! First you tell me you can’t join me in New York, and then you go and marry someone else? Are you fucking kidding me?”
Her palms were drenched in sweat. She swayed on her heels but managed to fight for control. “You left me,” she reminded him with a touch of bitterness. “I haven’t heard from you in three months.”
“I thought we needed a cooling-off period,” he muttered.
She gave a humorless laugh. “Oh, is that your line? No call or text or even an email? No Facebook post? Nothing for three months. Did you really think I was back here waiting for you to one day realize what you threw away? Sorry. I’ve moved on. I’m happy, and I’m getting married this Saturday.”
He tunneled his fingers through his hair, cursing viciously. “I came back for you. I realized what we had was too good to throw away, and I wanted to try again. I want you to move to New York with me, Sydney. We’ll be together. We can make this work.”
Her whole being cracked and bled. A throbbing loss flowed through her, and Sydney ached to drop to her knees and weep, rage, grieve. How badly had she wanted to hear those words months ago? But even now, in his outrage and sudden return to bring her back with him, she didn’t believe him. If he’d truly loved her, it wouldn’t have taken three months for him to contact her. He was still stuck on her living his life, miles away, on his terms. It was the usual routine—she bent to Tristan’s will because she would do anything to make him happy.
But now there was someone else to take care of. Someone more important than either of them.
It was her baby growing in her belly that gave her the strength to look him in the eye and finish it.
“This is over, Tristan. My God, am I supposed to sink to my knees and be grateful that you missed me after three months? It was over when you stormed out after making love to me and never returned. Do you know how long I waited for you to contact me that week? I waited for you to come back so we could talk or at least say a real good-bye. I thought I was owed that after the time we spent together. But you didn’t. And I never heard from you, so I moved on.”
“I needed you!” he said furiously. “I asked you to go and you weren’t there for me!”
“I have always been there for you,” she gritted out. “Always. But you left me, and I’ll never forgive you for that. I’m happy now. I’m starting a brand-new life, in Harrington, and I’m going to have everything I want. So, I’m asking you to leave. Leave me alone, and go back to New York.”
His shocked expression made her want to wail in pain, but she bit it back, tilted her chin, and faced him down in her white dress. Slowly his eyes drained of emotion. His voice was flat when he finally spoke.
“You’re right. I made a mistake. It won’t happen again.”
For the second time, Tristan left her. But this time, there were no more tears left to cry. This time, she had something bigger to protect, and she intended to give her all to this marriage to make it work.
For everyone’s sake.
chapter nine
Tristan sat out on the porch. Balin and Gandalf flanked him with a serious demeanor, as if knowing he needed the support. Even when a suspicious rustle in the woods pricked their ears, they never budged. Just kept tight on their vigil. He sipped his second glass of wine and pondered Sydney’s words. She had no idea, but with her confession, she’d changed all the rules of the game.
She stood up. Took a few steps. Stopped. Then made herself look at him.
“Because I could never love him the way I loved you.”
He opened his mouth, but she didn’t wait around to hear his response.
She fled.
As she drove home, she allowed the tears to burn her eyes. And she allowed the memory to take hold for just a little while . . .
The blinding-white dress hurt her vision, so she averted her gaze in the mirror. It was perfect, of course. Everything was. The wedding might be small, but it would be tasteful, with just the right touches she’d always imagined. She wore her grandmother’s veil and splurged on designer shoes with more bling than even Cinderella could stand. The dress fell perfectly away from her hips, hiding the tiny bulge she was still able to conceal. The venue was her favorite restaurant in Harrington. They’d recite their vows overlooking the marina, then settle into a happy, cozy life.
Her stomach lurched. She refused to think it was anything but a case of bridal nerves.
A discreet knock at the door to the changing suite interrupted her thoughts. The sales associate peeked in. “Sorry, Sydney, but the groom is out here to see you. I told him you wouldn’t allow him to see your dress. Shall I tell him to wait outside?”
She forced a smile. She didn’t believe in any superstitions. This marriage was based on friendship, respect, and a common goal. “It’s okay, you can send him in.”
The sales associate looked a bit disapproving, but she nodded. Sydney reached down to move her pile of clothes to the side and heard the door open and shut. “You just couldn’t wait, could you?” she teased. “I hope this won’t bring us years of bad luck.”
“I think we’ve already had our share, don’t you?”
She froze. Heart hammering, head spinning, she slowly raised her gaze to meet his.
Tristan stood before her. Dressed in a sleek charcoal suit, snowy-white shirt, and red tie, he cut an intimidating, sexy figure. The scent of the ocean filled the dressing room, driving the breath from her lungs. Timber hair fell back from his forehead in perfect waves, the red highlights visible in the bright light. Whiskey-colored eyes filled with a swirl of rage, and something more, something that beat down his usual distant control and whipped at her in waves of male power. A muscle in his jaw ticked. His hands clasped into tight fists.
He was overwhelmingly pure, primitive male, and her body immediately flared to life, weeping to move closer and take him into her arms as she’d done so many times before.
Instead, she locked down those messy emotions and forced herself to stand her ground. It was crucial to get him to understand it was over. She had too much to protect.
“What are you doing here, Tristan?” she asked quietly.
His gaze snapped over her, taking in the wedding dress and veil. “I don’t believe this,” he ground out. “You’re getting married?”
“Yes.”
“The hell you are! First you tell me you can’t join me in New York, and then you go and marry someone else? Are you fucking kidding me?”
Her palms were drenched in sweat. She swayed on her heels but managed to fight for control. “You left me,” she reminded him with a touch of bitterness. “I haven’t heard from you in three months.”
“I thought we needed a cooling-off period,” he muttered.
She gave a humorless laugh. “Oh, is that your line? No call or text or even an email? No Facebook post? Nothing for three months. Did you really think I was back here waiting for you to one day realize what you threw away? Sorry. I’ve moved on. I’m happy, and I’m getting married this Saturday.”
He tunneled his fingers through his hair, cursing viciously. “I came back for you. I realized what we had was too good to throw away, and I wanted to try again. I want you to move to New York with me, Sydney. We’ll be together. We can make this work.”
Her whole being cracked and bled. A throbbing loss flowed through her, and Sydney ached to drop to her knees and weep, rage, grieve. How badly had she wanted to hear those words months ago? But even now, in his outrage and sudden return to bring her back with him, she didn’t believe him. If he’d truly loved her, it wouldn’t have taken three months for him to contact her. He was still stuck on her living his life, miles away, on his terms. It was the usual routine—she bent to Tristan’s will because she would do anything to make him happy.
But now there was someone else to take care of. Someone more important than either of them.
It was her baby growing in her belly that gave her the strength to look him in the eye and finish it.
“This is over, Tristan. My God, am I supposed to sink to my knees and be grateful that you missed me after three months? It was over when you stormed out after making love to me and never returned. Do you know how long I waited for you to contact me that week? I waited for you to come back so we could talk or at least say a real good-bye. I thought I was owed that after the time we spent together. But you didn’t. And I never heard from you, so I moved on.”
“I needed you!” he said furiously. “I asked you to go and you weren’t there for me!”
“I have always been there for you,” she gritted out. “Always. But you left me, and I’ll never forgive you for that. I’m happy now. I’m starting a brand-new life, in Harrington, and I’m going to have everything I want. So, I’m asking you to leave. Leave me alone, and go back to New York.”
His shocked expression made her want to wail in pain, but she bit it back, tilted her chin, and faced him down in her white dress. Slowly his eyes drained of emotion. His voice was flat when he finally spoke.
“You’re right. I made a mistake. It won’t happen again.”
For the second time, Tristan left her. But this time, there were no more tears left to cry. This time, she had something bigger to protect, and she intended to give her all to this marriage to make it work.
For everyone’s sake.
chapter nine
Tristan sat out on the porch. Balin and Gandalf flanked him with a serious demeanor, as if knowing he needed the support. Even when a suspicious rustle in the woods pricked their ears, they never budged. Just kept tight on their vigil. He sipped his second glass of wine and pondered Sydney’s words. She had no idea, but with her confession, she’d changed all the rules of the game.
