“I need to close my eyes and rest a bit,” he managed. He laid his pounding head against the leather cushions. “I think I’ve decided what I’m going to do.”
His brothers didn’t push him any further. Just shared a glance, then nodded. “Do you need to be alone or can we hang out with you?” Cal asked.
He clung to the sliver of peace that wriggled free and lit the way. His brothers had his back. Always.
The word barely escaped his throat, but it was a request from the heart.
“Stay.”
They didn’t ask again. Flanking him on the couch, they sat and waited together for dawn.
chapter sixteen
Sydney heard the door slam and sat up. Eyes gritty from lack of sleep, her jeans and sweatshirt wrinkled and creased, she pushed away her knotted tangle of hair and held her breath.
She’d eventually fallen asleep on the couch waiting for him to return. Tears long dried up, her heart bruised and aching, she prayed there was some way to reach him and make him understand. She’d carried the guilt every single day, many times sick about her decision to keep Becca a secret. But she’d done the best she could, her only focus giving her daughter a stable, happy life.
When he didn’t come find her, she made her way into the kitchen and found him making coffee. Swallowing hard, she took a seat on a stool and waited for him to speak. Or yell. Or do something. Anything.
“I’ve made a decision.”
He flung the words at her like they were chips of ice, and she knew there would be no understanding or compromise. This was the Tristan from the past—ruthless in business, distant in relationships, analyzing each situation to further himself on the path of success to achieve what he wanted. She was now the enemy and would be treated as such.
Dread coiled in her gut. “Becca’s still sleeping,” she said evenly. “I’d like us to be able to be on the same page before she gets up. I don’t want her affected the morning after her birthday.” She tried to sound calm, but her nerve endings were raw. Her question came out in a ragged whisper. “Are you okay? I was—worried.”
He didn’t even glance back. Just continued making coffee. “No, but I will be. I’ve thought about our options here, and there’s only one way to give Becca what she needs and allow me to be the father I want to be.”
“I understand. I have no problem sharing custody, Tristan. I want her to be a part of your life moving forward and would never fight you on this. We just need to take some time to figure things out.”
The coffeepot began to brew merrily. He took a mug from the cabinet and lined it up neatly on the granite countertop. “Partial custody won’t be enough. Not to make up for the last seven years. I’ll have to be involved in her day-to-day schedule for us to get to know each other the way we both need.”
She blinked, tamping down the rising panic threatening to choke her. “Becca needs me. There’s no way you’re going to take her away from me.”
“I don’t intend to as long as you agree to the plan.”
Her mouth trembled, but she made herself speak. “What plan?”
He turned. Even mussed and wrinkled and dead tired, he retained an aura of competence and sexuality that reached across the room and grabbed her. Their connection had never been the problem between them. Unfortunately, now it made everything so much harder. His face was calmly set, with an implacable determination in his amber eyes that froze her in sheer fear.
“We’re going to get married.”
It took a few moments for his announcement to register. She figured she’d just heard wrong. “We’re going to what?”
“Get married. It’s the only way to ensure Becca gets the family and support she needs. It’s cruel to rip either one of us away at this point. This way it’s a win-win for her.”
The kitchen spun, and she grabbed on to the edge of the counter. “Tristan, you must be joking. Or drunk. Or delusional. You’re not thinking clearly about what you just proposed.”
“Oh, but I am.” He crossed his arms in front of his chest, cocked his hip, and stared at her. The heat and tenderness were gone. In their place were an icy resolution and faint distaste for his proposal. “We’re going to face Becca and give her the happy news. I’ll let you tell her how and why any way you wish, as long as the bottom line is we’ll be getting married and completing our family.”
Anger snapped up from her core, and she lowered her voice to a furious whisper. “We are not about to tell my daughter anything today. This is a delicate situation, and she needs to be thought of first. We need to plan when and how we’ll tell her, and I’m open to feedback. But nothing will be happening right now. Things are too raw. We’re not ready, and neither is she.”
“Oh, I’m ready.” She flinched at the cutting edge of his voice. “I don’t intend to wait another year to be with my daughter. And we will get married, Syd. That’s the only solution to this.”
“You’re not thinking clearly! It’ll never work. She’ll know we’re miserable and unhappy and lying about our relationship. Kids can sense that. She’ll only be more confused!”
“Not if we commit to giving her what she deserves. A real marriage. We both focus on creating a stable, happy home life. We’re not strangers. It’s worth the sacrifice for Becca.”
She wondered if she’d just dropped into an alternate universe where arranged marriages were the norm. The idea of living with this man on a daily basis was impossible. Sleeping with him. Eating breakfast. Wearing old pajamas while she watched television. Those were the types of activities you did with a man you trusted and loved. There was no way they could pretend on such a scale. She’d go mental. She’d become . . . broken.
“It won’t work,” she repeated again. “We can’t live together, Tristan. That type of give-and-take in a marriage, raising a child, isn’t something you can just fake.”
“I don’t intend anything to be fake.” He narrowed his gaze. “We’ll mean every word of those vows we share. I intend to be faithful, show you respect, protect you and Becca, and provide a secure, nurturing environment. And you will do the same.”
She had a crazy urge to laugh at the ridiculousness, but knowing he was dead serious stole away all humor. Oh, God, she couldn’t do this. He stated his intentions like a Boy Scout or military person serving his country. Not like a husband, or a man who wanted to spend his life with a woman he loved.
Because he didn’t love her.
Not anymore.
Maybe not ever. He’d never been able to say the words, no matter how intimate their time was together.
“You can’t just bully me into a marriage. Listen, we don’t need to rush into anything. We’ll talk and decide the right time to tell Becca. Couples deal with two-parent households all the time, and Becca will understand. You can have plenty of time with her—pick her up from school, take her for sleepovers, a weekend getaway. Anything you need.”