All or Nothing at All(10)

With one last glance, Sydney took off in the opposite direction, leading the boys away. Tristan quickly leapt down, taking off to safety. He heard victory yells as they caught her, and she turned into a zombie, but he already knew she'd never lead them back to him. She liked to make him happy, which made him feel bad when he was mean to her.

Oh well. At least he'd win the game.




 

 

He pushed the thought of Sydney from his mind and concentrated on winning.





chapter three




Mama, it's almost my birthday! Can we get an ice-cream cake?"

Sydney laughed, grabbing her daughter and pulling her onto her lap. "Of course. You know that's my favorite. What do you want to do, sweetheart? Have you decided?"

Her daughter tilted her face and scrunched up her nose. "Can we go to Chuck E. Cheese?"

Sydney couldn't help wincing. It may be a kid's paradise, but it was a mother's nightmare. The loud, flashing games, overexcited children hunting for prize tickets and winning only enough for a spider ring, and a large mouse character that danced in a purple sweater. She always left with a headache.

Maybe she could sneak in a flask and fill it with wine.

"Sure. Just get me a list, and we'll send out some invitations."

"Okay. And I want to see Uncle Cal and Morgan and Dalton and Tristan and Uncle Brady. Can they come to my party? 'Cause they're my family."

Her chest tightened, but she managed a breath. The guilt was manageable this time. Practice did make perfect. "Yes, honey. But we'll have a cake for you at Uncle Cal's house, and Morgan said she's making your favorite dish."

"Spaghetti and meatballs?"

"Yep." She savored her daughter's soft body sprawled over her lap and the scent of her coconut shampoo. Her pink T-shirt boasted her favorite Disney princess: Ariel, because she had the same color hair. Her jeans had pink sparkles and matched the glittery nail polish on her fingers and toes. Already Becca was moving away from her cuddling, demanding more alone time and independence to read, draw, or play on her Kindle. How had so much time flashed by without Sydney realizing it? She used to laugh at mothers warning her to enjoy the toddler years, when she'd just prayed to be out of diapers and formula and sleepless nights. Now her daughter was reading on her own and had a group of friends she insisted on seeing at regular revolving playdates. She was going to be a powerhouse one day, but until she grew into that power, Sydney tried to keep her daughter's temper, and independence, in check. "I can't believe you're going to be seven," she murmured, stroking her daughter's hair.

"Was Matilda in the movie seven?" Becca asked. " 'Cause I want to be like her."

"I think so. Wait a minute-you want to have terrible parents who lock you up, are mean to you, and don't let you go to school?"

Her daughter giggled. "No, but she gets to watch TV all the time. I'd like that part." 

"Brat." Another giggle. Becca was always trying to finagle more television time. "For now, I need to get started on dinner. Sorry I've been working late this week. This new job will be a bit challenging, so I'll need you to help out more and understand I won't be home as much. Just for a while."

"That's okay, Mommy. I'm happy you got a premition."

"Promotion."

"Yeah, that. But don't forget about my ballet recital."

"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.