“Oh, umm, Wonder Woman.”
Becca laughed. “Yeah! Or Batgirl!”
He made a note to coach her on the coolness of superheroes and expand her knowledge. “Then I’m definitely not doing the cake thing.”
Becca grabbed his hand and pulled him toward Sydney. “I won’t tell Mama you even thought about it,” she whispered with a mischievous grin.
And just like that, they shared their first secret.
It was an epic moment.
chapter eighteen
Sydney stiffened as the door shut behind her.
The last of the wedding guests had finally departed. The caterers and servers had cleaned up. The kitchen sparkled, the leftovers were neatly packed up, the remains of the cake had been stored in the freezer for their first anniversary.
No trace remained of the wedding, which only made the day seem more like a dream than reality. She swayed on her bare feet and squinted as Tristan’s image blurred into two.
Yep. Shouldn’t have had that last glass of champagne.
Oh well, screw it. She was bone weary and sick at heart and craved some isolation and a soft bed. Maybe tomorrow she’d be stronger and more capable of dealing with the future. “I’m going to tuck Becca in,” she announced.
He walked into the kitchen. He’d shed his jacket. Unbuttoned the first buttons on his snowy-white shirt. His tie was unknotted. Her stomach did a low, slow flip at the strong column of his throat and the sexy mussed-up look of him. “We both will.”
She bit back her protest and forced a nod. “Fine. Let’s go.”
She turned a bit too fast, swayed again, and he clamped a hand on her arm. The shock of his touch skittered through her. “Need help?”
Damn him. She stuck her chin up like she wasn’t tipsy and aroused. “No, I’m fine.”
He dropped his hand. She stalked out of the kitchen, up the stairs, and found Becca in her new room. The walls were a muted pink, and she’d gotten a new furniture set in white. Her butterfly comforter was bright and colorful, and already she’d arranged her stuffed animals and books in neat piles on the shelves, hinting at an OCD trait she’d seemed to inherit from her father. She was dressed in her favorite Belle nightgown, with a frilly collar and a hem that hit the floor. Sydney sat on the edge of the bed, and Tristan stood behind her.
“Hey, baby. Did you enjoy today?”
“I loved it. You looked beautiful, Mama.”
“Thank you, but not as pretty as you.”
“Definitely prettier than Belle,” Tristan said seriously. She watched her daughter flush with pleasure. Emotion tightened her throat. Already the bond was tight between them, growing every hour they spent together. She was so happy the truth was revealed, and they were both free to love each other. Tristan was everything her daughter needed in a father now. She wondered whether everything would’ve been destroyed if she’d told the truth back then. They’d never know. Somehow, someway, Tristan needed to forgive her, or they’d end up tearing each other apart all over again.
Sydney sought her words carefully. “I know this was a big week for you, and lots of good things happened. We moved into the mansion and I got married, and you have a brand-new dad. Even though this is all great stuff, it’s okay to feel a bit nervous or stressed. You can talk to us about it. We won’t get mad or upset. We just want to be here for you.”
Her daughter frowned, thinking hard. “I was worried I’d have to go to a new school if we moved, but I didn’t, so I’m happy about that.”
“Good. Anything else?” Tristan asked.
“Can we get a dog now?”
“No,” Sydney said.
“Yes,” Tristan said.
They looked at each other. Becca turned hopeful, pleading eyes toward her father to break the tie.
“We’ll talk about it,” Sydney finally forced out. It was time to learn about compromise. She didn’t expect to keep making all the decisions regarding Becca, but she also didn’t want her daughter to feel like she could get anything she wanted because Tristan ached to make her happy. “Teeth brushed?”
“Yes.”
“Good girl.” She leaned over and kissed her, snuggling into the warmth of her body. “Hmm, minty fresh,” she teased, tickling her a bit. Becca giggled. “I’ll leave the night-light on. Mama will be next door if you need anything or get scared.”
“I have Mr. Ted Bear,” she said, hugging her teddy bear.
“I grew up in this house, honey,” Tristan said, switching places with Sydney. “Never saw a monster or bad thing in my life. Neither did Uncle Cal or Uncle Dalton. This is the safest place you’ll ever be.”
Becca smiled and held out her arms for a hug. The look on Tristan’s face stole Sydney’s breath. She backed up, shifting her gaze. It was just too . . . much.
“Love you, Daddy.”
“Love you, too, Becca. Night.”
They switched on the night-light, shut the door halfway, and headed right. Sydney’s hand paused on the doorknob, exhaustion seeping into her muscles. The throbbing in her head warned of more to come. “Well, good night,” she said, refusing to turn. “See you in the morning.”
She tried to close the door behind her, but he followed her in.
“What are you doing?”
He lifted a brow and began unbuttoning his cuffs. “Going to bed. I’m tired.”
Her eyes widened. She must be imagining things. “Oh, I’m sorry, I thought this was going to be my room.”
“It is.”
With deliberate movements, he began removing his shirt, heading over to the dresser and opening the top drawer. The lean muscles of his back flexed as he riffled through items. She shook her head to clear it, then tried not to wince. “Wait, then why are you in here?”
“This is our room. We’re married now, and I refuse to use separate rooms. I won’t have Becca wondering why her parents aren’t sleeping in the same bed or questioning our commitment.”
It took a moment for the true knowledge to sink in.
“Oh, hell no,” she growled. “I am not sharing a bedroom with you! We never agreed on this, and you’re not going to bully me like you always do. You can set yourself up in the next bedroom. Becca won’t notice.”
He didn’t even turn around. Never missing a beat, he unbuckled his belt and dropped his pants, leaving his gorgeous, perfect ass on display, cupped in black briefs. Her mouth fell open. Some weird sound came out, but she had no idea what it was—a protest or sigh of pleasure. Why, oh why, did he have to own a legendary ass?
“She will notice. Trust me, I’m too tired to ravish you tonight. The bed is a California king so as long as you don’t roll over, you won’t know I’m there. Though you’ve always been known to be a cuddler.”
“I’m not sleeping with you!”