“I can’t take the coldness anymore. There’s no way I can be in your bed and deal with such distance in the morning.”
He let out his breath and took her in his arms, hugging her tight. Yes, he was still struggling with the truth about Becca, but she was right. They couldn’t go on with him holding her away because of lingering resentment. He tried to put it in words. “I’m sorry, baby. When you told me about Becca, I was so angry I didn’t know how to act. It was easier to push you away and keep you there until I wrapped my head around it. I’m still struggling with knowing you kept her from me, but I want you just as badly as you want me. I’ve never been able to fight our connection. It’s not about revenge, Syd. I want to try to move forward in this marriage for all of us. Especially Becca.”
She nodded against his chest. “Okay. We can take it slow, day by day.”
“Deal.” He tipped up her chin and pressed a hard kiss on her mouth. “Finish your coffee, and I’ll call Morgan.”
As he left the bedroom, his spirits lifted. Everything had slid into place. He’d have Sydney in his life, and in his bed.
He began to whistle as he picked up the phone to call his daughter.
Sydney sipped her coffee and stared at the empty doorway.
Last night he’d finally given her hope. The stirring tenderness and blinding intensity as he made love to her told her what words never could.
He still had feelings for her.
He was her husband. He was in her bed. He was involved in her day-to-day life and was a wonderful father to Becca.
Last night she’d realized he’d broken through every one of her defenses, and they’d never be rebuilt. She couldn’t fight him any longer. Maybe if she accepted him fully into her life, he’d eventually open his heart again.
She was going to try to make this a real marriage and win back his trust. One day he’d have to understand that she’d kept the truth from him about Becca to protect her daughter. She’d never wanted to hurt him. Time would build trust. Forgiveness.
Time would bring hope.
Sydney dragged in a breath and set her shoulders for the biggest battle she had ever waged.
The battle for his heart. She couldn’t accept any less from him.
It was all or nothing at all.
chapter twenty-three
Goodness, gracious, I’m getting married, y’all.”
Sydney laughed at Morgan’s incredulous expression, like it had finally hit her right before she was about to walk down the aisle. Raven flanked her on the other side, looking gorgeous in the sleek buttercream dress with her dark hair pinned up high. Thank God Morgan had chosen a sophisticated color palette that emphasized her Southern roots and elegant simplicity.
Plus, Sydney could actually wear the dress again.
“You look beautiful,” she whispered, fussing with Morgan’s train.
“You do, kitten.” Morgan’s father gripped her elbow, his full mane of white hair, blue eyes, and crisp tuxedo giving him a dignified air. Sydney had fallen in love with Morgan’s parents and wished her mother would stick around. Diane would’ve loved her, with her classic breeding, sly humor, and obvious love for her daughter and Cal. Sydney imagined the two women chattering late into the evening while they watched their children walk off hand in hand.
“Showtime,” Raven announced, turning toward the heavy wooden doors. The music poured into the foyer of the church, and Raven headed down the aisle.
Sydney bent down to whisper in Becca’s ear. “Ready sweetheart? It’s your cue.”
“Ready, Mama.”
Excitement lit her gold-green eyes, and seeming perfectly poised, she began slowly walking down the aisle, scattering blush-pink rose petals. Her dress was the same color as the roses, and with the baby’s breath braided through her hair, she looked stunning. There was a tittering in the crowd as everyone watched her, and Sydney puffed up with pride. Two weddings in under a year. Becca was practically an expert.
She studied Tristan’s expression as he watched Becca walk down the aisle. Her whole being pulsed with joy as the two people she loved most joined at the altar. He motioned for Becca to stand all the way to the right. She nodded and gave him a thumbs-up, which threw the guests into laughter, then moved to her place.
Her turn.
She walked with slow, steady strides to join her daughter. Dalton and Tristan stood beside Cal, dual best men, devastating in their sleek black tuxedos. Smiling at her husband, she turned toward the main event, and the crowd stood as “The Wedding March” began to play.
Morgan floated down the aisle, her gaze trained on the man she loved, her face wreathed in a joyous smile. Wide blue eyes shone behind the weblike lace of her veil. The Vera Wang gown was a classic, with a full skirt and a high neck encrusted with an array of pearls, emphasizing the graceful length of her neck and her delicate bone structure. Her shoes shimmered in a peekaboo toe in pure glass.
Damn. She wore actual glass slippers, just like the princess Cal called her.
She reached Cal, and her father gave the bride away, blinking back tears. Cal hugged the man, then took his bride, joining their hands together.
Her lower lip trembled. Oh no. Not this early. She would not cry. No, no, no . . .
Tristan met her gaze across the room. Whiskey-gold eyes pierced into hers, a gleam of understanding and desire closing the distance and squeezing her heart.
Then he winked.
She pressed her lips tight to keep from laughing. The gesture was so unlike him; she knew he’d done it for her. She certainly didn’t want to be blubbering the first five minutes and ruin all her makeup for photos.
God, she loved him.
The ceremony unfolded, wrapping the guests in memories of love and hope for the future. When they were announced man and wife, Cal picked Morgan up high in the air and spun her around, laughing with such open joy the guests burst into wild applause.
They lined up outside in the receiving line, greeting guests and posing for pictures in the gorgeous June sunshine. Tristan entangled his fingers with hers and Becca’s, standing as a unit through the wedding formalities of pictures, toasts, and getting to the reception. Becca was still freaking out at being able to ride in a limo, and Morgan treated her like her own, making sure Becca had a glass of apple cider when they drank on the way to the country club.
They pulled up to the Harrington Club, a five-star resort on a stunning golf course with rolling green acres. After a few more pictures, Sydney made a beeline for the waiters and began pulling madly from the trays.
“You bringing those to Morgan?” Tristan asked, his hand resting on her waist.
She paused in the act of taking her first bite and groaned. “I’m evil. Hell no, I wasn’t thinking about Morgan. I’m starving.”
He grinned. “Eat first, then feed her. You’ll be no good to her if you pass out from starvation.”