“I’d never forget your recital. Are you nervous?”
“A little.”
“We’ll get there early so I can be in the front row, okay?”
Her daughter’s smile was Sydney’s heaven and earth, making her heart explode with a fierce emotion that still humbled her. The moment Becca had pushed her way into the world, wailing in fury, Sydney had tumbled into a love that knew no bounds.
The voice she’d shoved deep inside, trapped in a locked box of her own making, slithered up to whisper.
She doesn’t just belong to you . . .
Dear God, it was getting worse. Every day since the Pierce brothers had come home, she’d struggled. Her peaceful, ordered existence was shredded. Now she was haunted every day. Every night. Haunted by the truth she’d sworn to hide when Becca was born.
Her thoughts broke off as her daughter shot out of her lap, snuggling complete. “I’m hungry, Mama. Can I go play?”
“Yes, I’ll call you when dinner’s ready.” She watched her daughter bound up the stairs, and with a sigh, she headed to the kitchen. Her home was small but perfect for the two of them, a yellow-shingled bi-level on a dead end. With a fenced-in yard, she had no worries about traffic, and she felt safe and secure, tucked away from the world. She’d decorated the house with all the girly stuff she loved—from throw pillows in bright teal to cozy afghans and fuzzy rugs supersoft under bare feet. She liked her work ruthlessly organized and her house casually messy. A good thing, because Becca was a whirlwind of activity, and Sydney was constantly reminding her to pick up her toys so she didn’t trip on Barbie dolls, DVDs, and books.
Sydney opened the refrigerator, removing the thawed tilapia and slipping into mechanical mode. She still told Becca it was special chicken, since Becca gave her a hard time about eating fish. Dumping the fish into a pan, she doctored it with citrus, dill, and basil, olive oil, fresh garlic, and Himalayan salt. She scrubbed the potatoes and slid them in the oven, then grabbed a bag of frozen peas to steam—her child’s only accommodation with green vegetables. She pulled a bottle of Chardonnay from the refrigerator and poured herself half a glass, sighing with pleasure at the first cold, fruity sip.
As she moved around the kitchen in a dance she could complete with her eyes closed, she mentally ticked down the list of items to finish before the weekend. Time was a challenge, but Charlie was a quick learner and taking on more responsibility in the office. Sydney and Tristan were visiting the site tomorrow, and she’d need to meet Adam in the city soon for final contracts. She relished being more hands-on with the renovation and creative process, but she’d stepped right into Tristan’s territory, and he wasn’t letting her forget it.
He was always . . . around. Questioning every move. Lifting that arched brow in silent regard, forcing her to doubt her initial instincts. Trying to check up on her like she was a child and hadn’t been working for the company since she was sixteen. He drove her mad, and eventually something was going to break. It was more than his judging stares and intense amber eyes. No, he seemed to be analyzing where she fit, as if trying to figure her out on a deeper level.
And that scared the hell out of her.
She set the timer and sipped her wine. God, she missed Diane. Whenever there was a problem, Sydney could sit in her cozy kitchen, talk, and be fed warm, filling food that always made her feel better. Grief struck like a stinging slap. Her grandparents had raised her with love and care, but Diane had been the mother figure she’d been missing. Growing up in the Pierce household gave her a sense of belonging, and working for the company only cemented her place. Funny, she’d always known exactly what she wanted to do with her life. She’d had no dreams of going away to college or leaving Harrington.
It had been Tristan who wanted to leave.
She stared out the window into the early-evening darkness. She’d spent her entire youth trying to force him to see her—really see her—and he’d spent most of his youth treating her like an annoying younger sister. What was it about him that had called to her from the very first day they met? Dalton was closer in age, but it was always Tristan who fascinated her. His quiet personality hid a fierceness of heart and loyalty she craved. No matter how mad his brothers made him, he was the peacemaker. As chaos reigned around him, he was the calm in a storm that soothed, offering a protection she’d always dreamed about. She’d tumbled into love with him at only eight years old, and he’d been haunting her ever since. How hard she had tried to hide her feelings, especially from Diane, not wanting to cause disapproval or concern with either of Tristan’s parents, since they were so close.
But Diane knew. Had probably always sensed her desperate longing for a man who was destined to hurt her . . .
She sat at the counter, trying to nibble on the warm chocolate chip cookie fresh from the oven. But her stomach tumbled in that sick kind of way, so she settled on sipping iced tea from the yellow sunflower cup.
“You look pretty today,” Diane said with a smile. Her dark, reddish hair was pinned up, and she looked comfortable in jeans and a loose T-shirt. She smelled of sugar, chocolate, and home. “Going somewhere special?”
Sydney tried for a casual tone. “Maybe. It’s Friday night, so some of my friends want to go out.”
“Ah, I forgot. You’re growing up so fast. Any cute boys you have your eye on?”
A blush rose to her cheeks. She shifted on the stool. “Um . . . no, well, maybe. There’s a boy in my science class. He’s smart and helps me with lab work sometimes. He may be at the movies tonight.”
“That’s my girl, going for the brains.”
“Is that what you did?” Sydney teased, trying another bite of the cookie.
Diane laughed, eyes sparkling. “Eventually. But first I started off with the bad boys. They were more fun for my wild soul.” She winked, and Sydney laughed with her.
The bang of the door echoed through the room. She stiffened, trying to breathe normally. Her heart pounded in a wild rhythm. Her inner voice hissed a reminder: Don’t look eager. Be cool.
Tristan was home.
“Mom!”
Diane shook her head and sighed. “In the kitchen, where I always am.”