Just like he was toward her.
She forced a smile at her daughter’s burst of clapping and delight, trying to focus on the good things. Becca had been living in a dream. The past week had been a blur of activity with little sleep. A group of movers showed up on Monday morning with instructions to pack and organize her entire house in a few days to move into the mansion. Charlie and Tristan rallied to give her two afternoons off to buy dresses and arrange catering, flowers, and the wedding cake. She barely saw Tristan. Instead of the sitter, he picked Becca up from school, made her dinner, and left promptly when Sydney returned home late from work.
They’d been able to play up the excitement and busyness of the wedding, but Sydney worried once the smoke cleared, her daughter would pick up on the crackling tension between them.
She walked back down the short aisle, smiling and accepting congratulations. The farce looked perfect: from the flower girl dress in a light shade of blush with a puffy skirt Becca adored to her own Carolina Herrera dress in a long slinky V-neck, with just enough lace and shimmer to make it feminine. The back dipped low in a row of pearl encrusted buttons, emphasizing her natural curves without apology. Her shoes could make a grown woman weep. Combining mesh with crystal, the four-inch open-toe pumps glimmered with each step, Gianvito Rossi at his best. The mansion was decorated with dozens of lit candelabras and pink teacup roses in small vases—tasteful and romantic. It was the exact type of wedding she had once dreamed of when she thought of marrying Tristan, yet today she felt trapped in a nightmare.
She’d been so stupid to think they could move forward after she told him the truth. She’d gotten wrapped up with dreams of forgiveness, especially since they’d been falling in love with each other all over again. But for the last week, everyone had treated her with a polite distance, refusing to spend more than a few minutes in her company. Even now, meeting Morgan’s and Raven’s gazes, she felt their quiet judgment, a simmering resentment that shredded her heart. Cal and Dalton no longer smiled at her, keeping their interactions brief. In the past week, she’d gained a husband but lost an entire family.
Determined to be happy for her daughter’s sake, she headed to the formal dining room, where trays of food tempted guests and a champagne fountain cranked steadily. Tristan already held Becca’s hand and was guiding her through the buffet line, putting food on her plate. The real problem centered around how little food she allowed on her plate.
“I thought you liked pasta,” she heard him say with confusion.
“I do, but only when it’s got the red sauce. That has white with green stuff in it.”
“It’s really good. Do you want to just try a bite?”
“No, thanks. Where are the chicken fingers?”
“I don’t think we ordered any. How about sausage and peppers?”
Becca gagged. “I’d die.”
“Meatballs?”
“No, thanks.”
The man actually looked stressed. Sydney held back a sigh and marched over. “Young lady, there’s bread, meatballs, and chicken.”
“But the chicken has mushrooms and sauce on it!”
“You’ve had it before and you liked it. And I want you to have some of those green beans.”
Becca gasped. “I hate green beans!”
“Not all the time. Have just two and I’ll be happy.”
“But, Mama!”
“If you want to try the wedding cake, I want to see you eat two green beans and the rest of the list I mentioned. Understood?”
She got the look, but Becca finally nodded. Tristan looked relieved and began spooning things onto her plate. Sydney headed to the champagne fountain for another refill. She’d decided there was only one thing to get her through this whole charade without collapsing.
Alcohol.
She grabbed two flutes and filled them both, deciding to double fist. There was no way she’d be able to eat with her stomach churning. She leaned against the wall at her own wedding, watching family and close friends talk and eat, laugh and chatter, and had never felt so alone in her whole life.
God, she wished Diane were here.
“You okay?”
She turned. Cal held a plate, looking at her with a glint of concern. It was the first time he’d sought her out since he’d heard the truth. They’d stuck mainly to business because it was easier for both of them.
She forced a smile and refused to allow tears to burn her eyes. “I’m great.”
“Liar.”
“Well, that’s what I am, right? A liar. Someone not to be trusted. Someone to be shunned. I get it, but since this is my big day before I embark on a fake marriage, I’d appreciate it if I can just drink quietly in my corner, and I promise to cause no further trouble.”
“Syd.” His voice broke, and he reached out to lay a hand on her arm. “I hate to see you hurt like this.”
She took a gulp of champagne, embracing the burn in her throat. “Too bad. I’m a bit emotional today. The thought of you hating me, Cal, tears me up inside. I can take so much, but seeing you and Dalton despise me? Well, that may just be the icing on this crappy cake.”
His face softened. “Sweetheart, we don’t hate you. None of us do. But you dropped an atomic bomb on this family, and it’s going to take us some time to deal with it. To understand. To forgive.”
She nodded. “I didn’t keep her a secret to hurt anyone, Cal. It wasn’t to get revenge or payback for Tristan leaving. I honestly did the thing I thought best for my daughter. I won’t apologize for trying to protect her. You have no idea what I was going through or what stuff was going down between Tristan and me. Things were complicated, and I was so damn young. So scared. Diane wasn’t around. I felt . . . lost.”
His gunmetal eyes blazed with raw emotion. “It was a bad time for all of us,” he murmured. “I love you like a sister, Syd. We all do. It just hurt us to know this whole time Becca was our blood niece and we never knew.” He paused. “Tristan said he came back. Asked you to go with him to New York again. Did you want to tell him then?”
She’d never forget the image of him framed in the doorway while she committed herself to a life with a man who’d promised love and forever and happily ever after. “Yes,” she said softly. “But then I saw the way he looked at me. Like he’d missed me because he was in a new place and was lonely. I always gave him what he needed without asking for anything back. I couldn’t live like that any longer. And I knew, in my heart, he’d end up resenting us both if I tried to trap him in Harrington.”
Understanding passed between them. “I get it.” They stood together while she drank champagne and he drank his beer. “You didn’t want to get married, did you?”