Her daughter's silly giggle floated in the air. "You don't need ID for ice cream! Just stuff for when you become an adult and can get away with tons of things and don't have anyone telling you no."
He sighed with fake suffering. "You're forgetting about all the boring stuff they make you do when you're old. Like paying bills and going to work and being responsible. Trust me, it's no fun."
Becca snorted. "Tragic."
He laughed, a big, booming sound Sydney rarely heard from him. She fought her shock. Tristan rarely spoke to her daughter, let alone laughed with so much emotion. Even his awkwardness seemed to have disappeared. What had happened between them tonight?
"I gotta go! Bye, Tristan, bye, Mama!"
She blew kisses, gave her mom one last hug, and raced off to the minivan, where the doors slid slowly shut. Sydney turned to face him, intent on getting more answers to her questions about what they had spoken about tonight, when Cynthia suddenly appeared by her side, obviously fuming, dressed in her perfect clothes, with her perfect makeup. Sydney winced but was determined to be nice to her. Cynthia was a control-freak mom, always causing trouble and wanting to be in charge of decisions in ballet school and on the PTA. Sydney found it much easier to stay out of her line of attention, rather than fighting over silly things she had little time or patience for. She forced a smile.
"Hi, Cynthia. Lucy did wonderful. Did you enjoy the show?"
The woman shot Tristan a look of loathing, then pressed her lips together tightly. "I must say, Sydney, I'm disappointed in your lack of respect for the rules here," she said snottily. "Saving seats is not allowed, but having your friend here accost me in front of children is shocking."
"I did not accost you," Tristan replied. "I just refused to let you take her seat."
Sydney gasped, glancing back and forth between them. He'd had a fight with Cynthia? Oh, this was bad. So bad. And why did Cynthia sneer when she uttered the word friend? "There must have been a misunderstanding. My car had a flat, so Tristan was doing me a favor. There was no deliberate intention to break the rules here."
"Yet you did. We lecture our children on the perils of bullying, yet your friend here humiliated me and used intimidation to scare me. It's unacceptable."
"I did not bully you!"
Trying to get a grip on the down-the-rabbit-hole conversation, she shook her head and spoke calmly. "Tristan doesn't bully people. Let's let this go and chalk it up to an unfortunate miscommunication. I'm truly sorry you felt you were being bullied."
Tristan glared but remained silent. She'd never seen him so aggravated. It must've been an epic encounter.
Cynthia regarded them both with her nose in the air. She was so cliché it was almost ridiculous. She had too much money, too much time, and too much ego. "Fine. We'll put this incident behind us. Perhaps you should leave your intimate friends at home from now on. It reflects poorly on you and Becca. We wouldn't want rumors to begin circulating at the school, now, would we?"
Oh, she did not just say that. Everyone knew Cynthia's husband was having an affair with his accountant. And she had the nerve to judge who Sydney brought to Becca's recital? Anger punched through her, and she took a few steps forward and got in the woman's face. She practically snarled the words against Cynthia's red, Botoxed lips.
"Listen up, chickie. You keep out of my and Becca's business. And if I ever hear a word about me, or Tristan, or Becca from your mouth, I promise you, I will kick your ass so hard, I will make Christian Grey look like an amateur. Got it?"
Cynthia gasped and stumbled back. "You're crazy," she whispered. "Both of you."
Tristan grinned. "Nice to meet you."
The woman turned on her smart nude-colored heel and took off, grabbing her daughter's arm and pulling her away, ignoring her loud protests.
They watched her leave, the final headlights pulling out of the exit. Then they stood alone in the empty parking lot.
"Christian Grey, huh?" he asked. "That was good."
She sighed. "It was kind of lame, but I was too mad to be clever."
"No, I liked it."
"I'm sorry I put you in that position. I didn't know you got in a fight with her over saving a seat."
He gave an elegant half shrug. "It was fun. Sharpened my warrior skills. Had no idea moms had to be this tough. Or so good with hair."
Her lips twitched, and her muscles relaxed. "It stayed up during her pirouette, so you did great."
Did he puff out in pride or was she imagining things? "Thanks."
This whole conversation was getting too weird. And way too intimate. She needed to put back the distance between them. "Well, thanks again for helping me out. My car is okay, so I'd better head home. We need to meet with the rest of the suppliers to get them to sign contracts. I got Anthony Moretti on board."