All or Nothing at All
Page 50
“Do you have an EpiPen?” he asked, finishing his sugar cookie.
“Yep, do you?”
“Nah, when I got bigger, I just knew how to avoid them. Want some coffee? You’re seven now.”
“I’m still too young!” Her friends burst into silly laughter with her. He’d had no idea how easy it was to get on with a young girl. Maybe he wasn’t as terrible with children as he thought.
With a wink, he headed for the coffeepot. He’d been less exhausted after a twelve-hour workday than this kids’ party. How did Sydney manage?
When the first of the parents began picking up the girls, he breathed a sigh of relief. Becca’s friends left, and the grown-ups all began to clean up while she kept up a stream of nonstop chatter, showing them all of her gifts and twirling in her bright blue gown. They were halfway through the dishes when he noticed the quiet. He looked around, trying to find out why the talking had stopped.
And found Becca sprawled out on the living room couch, asleep.
Sydney smiled at her daughter, tucking a knitted afghan over her gown and slipping off her plastic high-heeled princess shoes. She tiptoed out, and they stepped back into the kitchen.
“She plays hard and sleeps harder,” Sydney said with a laugh. “It’ll be impossible to wake her up.”
“You were smart to stay here tonight,” Morgan said. “You’ll have the place to yourselves. Cal and I are sleeping at the new house tonight.”
“You close Tuesday, right?” Tristan asked.
“Yep, it’s finally official. We should get back soon, though. We left the dynamic goofball duo there alone. It’ll take them a while to get used to the new place, and I’m afraid they’ve been left alone too long.”
“Should’ve brought them over,” Tristan said with a laugh.
Morgan shook her head. “One of Becca’s friends is afraid of dogs, and I didn’t want her first introduction to be with Cujos, even though they’re the sweetest dogs alive.”
“Dalton and I are heading back, too,” Raven said, wiping her hands on a dish towel. She’d ditched the horns and the headdress but still wore those wicked black boots. “Sydney, I’m madly in love with your daughter. Thank you for letting me be a part of this.”
Sydney hugged her hard, and Morgan stepped into the circle until it was like three powerful princess/witches who were about to rule the world. He cut a glance over to his brothers, registering the tenderness on their faces while they looked upon the women they loved. For so many years, after their mother died, there was an emptiness and pain that filled up all the empty spaces. They’d lost one another for a long time. Somehow, beginning when Morgan came into their life, there was joy again in this house, and among them. He’d not only rediscovered his brothers but a whole new life of possibilities.
Finally they all left and Tristan shut the door behind them, then turned to Sydney. “How about I carry her up for you? Get her settled and then we can have that talk?”
Her skin turned vampire pale. “Thanks.”
He lifted Becca into his arms. Her warm body cuddled automatically against him, and she mumbled in her sleep, frowning fiercely. He climbed the spiral staircase to the first room on the right—decorated in feminine lemon yellow with a floral bedspread. He smiled when she muttered and smooshed her face into the pillow, just like her mother did. He walked back downstairs, poured them both a glass of wine, and went into the living room.
Sydney came down ten minutes later and took the glass he offered with trembling fingers.
“Not gonna lie here,” he finally said in the stretching silence. “I’m trying not to freak out, but when a woman says we need to talk, there’s usually some type of trouble besides my gift. Is it us?”
She flinched. Then nodded. “Yes.”
He let out a breath. “I know you’re scared. I know we share a controversial past. But, Syd, I think you’ll regret it if we don’t try. We have something special here. A connection. It gets stronger all the time, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to let what happened between us when we were young and made mistakes affect us now. We’re two different people. Do you really want to throw this away?”
She lifted her gaze. Raw emotion shimmered in her emerald eyes, along with a fear that made dread trickle down his spine. “I want you, Tristan. I thought I could control my feelings and keep you in a safe place. I even decided I’d use you for sex, to wring you out of my system. But you’ve always been more, and I can’t lie to myself anymore. I’m tired of the lies. I’m falling in love with you all over again.”
He put down the glass and reached out to her, but she stiffened, shaking her head and moving away. She set her own glass down, curling into herself for protection. The obvious distress cracked his heart. “What is it, baby?” he asked softly. “Just tell me. We can work through anything. I’m not running away anymore, no matter what’s scaring you right now.”
“I have to tell you something important. All I can do is hope you understand why and give me a chance to explain.”
The dread grew to a roaring river when he looked into her face. Suddenly he knew. And in a matter of seconds, everything broke and splintered apart between them. The words dropped from her lips like bursts of gunfire, piercing tender flesh and drawing blood.
“It’s about Becca.”
A roaring began in his ears, but it was dull, so he shook his head to try to focus. His legs loosened, unable to hold his weight. “What about Becca?”
“You’re her father, Tristan. Becca is yours.”
The nausea in his gut burned like an ulcer, and his vision dimmed. Slowly he fell to the couch, blinking away the haze, his mind grasping at the only piece of knowledge that meant anything. That meant everything.
Becca was his daughter.
She watched the man she loved sit back in shock, his face ravaged by pain, and fought back the choked sob in her throat. No, she had to be strong. She had to try to make him understand. “My daughter,” he whispered. “Becca is my daughter.”
“Yes.”
“When? When did you find out you were pregnant? When did you know she was mine and not your husband’s?”
She set her shoulders, determined to tell him everything. “The day you left me to go to New York.”
“Yep, do you?”
“Nah, when I got bigger, I just knew how to avoid them. Want some coffee? You’re seven now.”
“I’m still too young!” Her friends burst into silly laughter with her. He’d had no idea how easy it was to get on with a young girl. Maybe he wasn’t as terrible with children as he thought.
With a wink, he headed for the coffeepot. He’d been less exhausted after a twelve-hour workday than this kids’ party. How did Sydney manage?
When the first of the parents began picking up the girls, he breathed a sigh of relief. Becca’s friends left, and the grown-ups all began to clean up while she kept up a stream of nonstop chatter, showing them all of her gifts and twirling in her bright blue gown. They were halfway through the dishes when he noticed the quiet. He looked around, trying to find out why the talking had stopped.
And found Becca sprawled out on the living room couch, asleep.
Sydney smiled at her daughter, tucking a knitted afghan over her gown and slipping off her plastic high-heeled princess shoes. She tiptoed out, and they stepped back into the kitchen.
“She plays hard and sleeps harder,” Sydney said with a laugh. “It’ll be impossible to wake her up.”
“You were smart to stay here tonight,” Morgan said. “You’ll have the place to yourselves. Cal and I are sleeping at the new house tonight.”
“You close Tuesday, right?” Tristan asked.
“Yep, it’s finally official. We should get back soon, though. We left the dynamic goofball duo there alone. It’ll take them a while to get used to the new place, and I’m afraid they’ve been left alone too long.”
“Should’ve brought them over,” Tristan said with a laugh.
Morgan shook her head. “One of Becca’s friends is afraid of dogs, and I didn’t want her first introduction to be with Cujos, even though they’re the sweetest dogs alive.”
“Dalton and I are heading back, too,” Raven said, wiping her hands on a dish towel. She’d ditched the horns and the headdress but still wore those wicked black boots. “Sydney, I’m madly in love with your daughter. Thank you for letting me be a part of this.”
Sydney hugged her hard, and Morgan stepped into the circle until it was like three powerful princess/witches who were about to rule the world. He cut a glance over to his brothers, registering the tenderness on their faces while they looked upon the women they loved. For so many years, after their mother died, there was an emptiness and pain that filled up all the empty spaces. They’d lost one another for a long time. Somehow, beginning when Morgan came into their life, there was joy again in this house, and among them. He’d not only rediscovered his brothers but a whole new life of possibilities.
Finally they all left and Tristan shut the door behind them, then turned to Sydney. “How about I carry her up for you? Get her settled and then we can have that talk?”
Her skin turned vampire pale. “Thanks.”
He lifted Becca into his arms. Her warm body cuddled automatically against him, and she mumbled in her sleep, frowning fiercely. He climbed the spiral staircase to the first room on the right—decorated in feminine lemon yellow with a floral bedspread. He smiled when she muttered and smooshed her face into the pillow, just like her mother did. He walked back downstairs, poured them both a glass of wine, and went into the living room.
Sydney came down ten minutes later and took the glass he offered with trembling fingers.
“Not gonna lie here,” he finally said in the stretching silence. “I’m trying not to freak out, but when a woman says we need to talk, there’s usually some type of trouble besides my gift. Is it us?”
She flinched. Then nodded. “Yes.”
He let out a breath. “I know you’re scared. I know we share a controversial past. But, Syd, I think you’ll regret it if we don’t try. We have something special here. A connection. It gets stronger all the time, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to let what happened between us when we were young and made mistakes affect us now. We’re two different people. Do you really want to throw this away?”
She lifted her gaze. Raw emotion shimmered in her emerald eyes, along with a fear that made dread trickle down his spine. “I want you, Tristan. I thought I could control my feelings and keep you in a safe place. I even decided I’d use you for sex, to wring you out of my system. But you’ve always been more, and I can’t lie to myself anymore. I’m tired of the lies. I’m falling in love with you all over again.”
He put down the glass and reached out to her, but she stiffened, shaking her head and moving away. She set her own glass down, curling into herself for protection. The obvious distress cracked his heart. “What is it, baby?” he asked softly. “Just tell me. We can work through anything. I’m not running away anymore, no matter what’s scaring you right now.”
“I have to tell you something important. All I can do is hope you understand why and give me a chance to explain.”
The dread grew to a roaring river when he looked into her face. Suddenly he knew. And in a matter of seconds, everything broke and splintered apart between them. The words dropped from her lips like bursts of gunfire, piercing tender flesh and drawing blood.
“It’s about Becca.”
A roaring began in his ears, but it was dull, so he shook his head to try to focus. His legs loosened, unable to hold his weight. “What about Becca?”
“You’re her father, Tristan. Becca is yours.”
The nausea in his gut burned like an ulcer, and his vision dimmed. Slowly he fell to the couch, blinking away the haze, his mind grasping at the only piece of knowledge that meant anything. That meant everything.
Becca was his daughter.
She watched the man she loved sit back in shock, his face ravaged by pain, and fought back the choked sob in her throat. No, she had to be strong. She had to try to make him understand. “My daughter,” he whispered. “Becca is my daughter.”
“Yes.”
“When? When did you find out you were pregnant? When did you know she was mine and not your husband’s?”
She set her shoulders, determined to tell him everything. “The day you left me to go to New York.”
