Dalton burst out laughing. “This is awesome. Usually I’m the one getting the crap.”
Cal growled. “They’re all huddled around the witch and can’t hear me. I give you romance.” He paused. “Right?”
She softened, reaching up to push back his mussed hair. “Every day,” she said.
The caveman seemed satisfied and shot Tristan a look as if saying beat that. His brother was certifiably nuts about his fiancée. If it weren’t so damn cute, Tristan would torture him endlessly.
The bell interrupted them, announcing the arrival of pizza. The next hours passed in a blur of princess games, endless eating, and a dance party that rivaled nothing he’d ever seen.
Though watching Sydney shimmy and shake to the beat of “Let It Go” was pretty hot.
When the three-tiered pink-frosted cake came out, and they all sang “Happy Birthday,” he had to admit he got a little emotional. He had no idea why, unless it was the joy on Becca’s face, and the way she looked at her mother, surrounded by friends and family.
It was probably all the estrogen in the room beginning to affect him.
Becca opened her presents the way she seemed to attack life: no-holds-barred. Pieces of wrapping paper scattered the floor as each new prize was revealed, and she gushed over each one, making each giver feel special. When she came to his, he shifted in his seat, wondering if he should take a break to get some air.
“This one’s from Tristan,” Becca read from the envelope. She looked up and smiled, and he sat back down, deciding to wait it out. It wasn’t big or gaily wrapped, just a simple card with a pink bow stuck on it. She probably wouldn’t even like it, but he knew she’d be polite anyway. He should’ve stuck with a doll or stuffed animal. Those always went over big with kids.
She pulled out the card and studied it. Slowly her expression changed from confusion to amazement to delight. With a whoop, she jumped up, waving her hands in the air like she’d won the lottery.
“It’s horseback-riding lessons!” she screamed. “I’m going to ride a real horse!”
Her friends shared respectful glances, and he puffed up a bit. Guess he’d scored after all.
“Thank you, Tristan!” She flew across the room and jumped into his arms for a big hug. He caught her just in time, hugging back, the scent of coconut drifting from her glittery hair. A surge of fierce protectiveness took him in its grip. He didn’t know where it came from or what it meant.
When she bounced back to her friends, his gaze met and held Sydney’s. He hoped it was okay with her, since he hadn’t vetted the present. Uh-oh, maybe he’d screwed up. Maybe riding a horse at her age was a bad idea?
“Excuse me,” Sydney whispered, getting to her feet and leaving the room. Tristan quickly followed her out to the front porch.
She gripped the handrails, staring out at the woods. He moved up behind her and rested his hands gently on her shoulders.
“Are you okay, sweetheart? It’s not like I got her an actual horse.”
His halfhearted attempt to make her laugh failed. Frowning, he noticed her whole body trembled, so he pulled her back and wrapped his arms around her for warmth.
“Can you talk to me?” She stiffened. “Are you overwhelmed? Scared about us? Worried about Becca?”
“There’s something we need to talk about, Tristan,” she said. Her voice came out as if dipped in ice. “It’s important.”
His heartbeat sped up. He tried desperately to sound confident, but his only thought was she was going to say it couldn’t work between them. “I didn’t know I had to ask permission before getting a big gift. Wanna yell at me now?”
“After the party. Okay? I brought Becca’s pajamas so we could stay tonight.”
“Okay.” Unease pitched his belly, but he swore no matter what excuses she came up with, he’d make her see the truth. They were meant to be together. He’d fight dirty and push hard if he had to, but nothing she had to say would stop him from convincing her he wasn’t going anywhere. “Syd?”
“Yeah?”
He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “You’re not going to be able to scare me away,” he murmured. “Tell me whatever you need, and we’ll work on it together.”
She didn’t respond. But she let him hold her for a bit longer before stepping out of his embrace and making her way back inside.
He noticed she didn’t meet his gaze.
Tristan pushed away the worry and tried to concentrate on the rest of the party. The second round of desserts came out, including pink cake pops and princess cookies. The girls dove in, and he managed to snatch one for himself without his brothers seeing. He had a weakness for sugar cookies, pink or not.
“Okay, girls, how about some actual fruit?” Morgan asked with a smile. She passed around a tray of strawberries, and Sydney’s friends scooped a few up like they were candy.
Becca raised her hands in the air. “Not me,” she said.
“Not me,” he said at the same exact time.
They shared a glance. “Jinx!” she yelled out.
“Darn, you were too fast for me.” He grinned at her. “Don’t like them?”
She shook her head. “No, I’m allergic.”
“Me too. I blow up like a balloon.”
“Me too! I look like the clown fish from Finding Nemo!” Her face was delighted, as if sharing a terrible allergy bonded them. He remembered being rushed to the hospital with his mom freaking out the first time he’d gotten a hold of a strawberry.
“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.”