Her daughter gave a long, exaggerated sigh. "Mama, I'm not a baby. My friend Tracey's mom dates 'cause her dad left, just like mine. It's not a big deal. I just want to know."
The past surged up and threatened to drown her. She fought for a lungful of air. Cool. She needed to play this smart, yet cool. The ridiculous song from West Side Story rumbled through her thoughts, distracting her. Now was not the time to channel Broadway. She was definitely freaking.
But looking into her daughter's clear green eyes, Sydney realized she deserved honesty. She'd hidden the past to protect her daughter from hurt, but now that Tristan was not only back in their lives but becoming a part of them, she couldn't hide any longer. She simply didn't have the right.
Eventually she'd need to tell Becca the truth. For now, telling her Tristan would be in their lives was important.
She ignored her heart slamming crazily within her chest and spoke.
"Dating is something a man and woman do to get to know each other. By spending time, they both get to see how they feel, and if they want to see more or less of the other person. So, yes, at this point, I'd say Tristan and I are starting to date. How do you feel about that?"
Becca scrunched up her nose in deep thought. Then shrugged. "It's fine. Tracey says sometimes she doesn't like her mom going out with so many different boys. Will you do that?"
The overwhelming, tangled mess of the past was tricky to sort out, especially to a seven-year-old. She knelt down so she could look straight into her daughter's eyes.
"No. I'm not going to do anything that makes you uncomfortable. Tristan and I used to be good friends, so we're taking it slow. But he'll be around more. He'd like to take both of us out. Is that okay?"
Becca nodded. "Yes."
Her throat tightened. She took her daughter in her embrace, surrounded in comfort and love. The scent of coconut drifted from her bright curly hair, and her slender shoulders pressed against Sydney. Her daughter hugged back tightly. "Can I go play my DS for a little bit before bed now?"
Sydney laughed, letting her arms fall to her sides. "Of course. Brush your teeth. I'll be up in a bit."
Her daughter ran up the stairs, conversation already forgotten.
But Sydney thought about it all night, tossing and turning, kept from sleep by the knowledge that all roads had led back to Tristan. Fate had stepped in and forced her hand. She'd made the only decision possible seven years ago, but would Tristan see it that way? Would his anger overshadow the fragile foundation they'd begun to build together?
Nausea turned in her belly. For two years, he'd ignored both of them. His innate coldness had confirmed over and over she'd made the right choice. But now he grew closer to them each day. How could she possibly have a second shot at happiness with him if she didn't tell him Becca was his?
Dear God, it was time.
She had to tell him the truth.
Fear gripped her like a vise, strangling her breath. How would he react? Would he hate her? Blame her? If she realized her child had been kept from her, she'd lose her mind. She needed to be prepared for an emotional fallout but be able to keep her calm and stay centered. She had to convince him she'd done the best thing for both him and her daughter. Eventually he'd see her intentions had been true. She'd never wanted to hurt him. She only wanted to give Becca the home and stability she herself had never had, and a father who resented them both would've destroyed them. She'd always planned to tell him the truth one day. It was just coming earlier than she'd expected.
After the party.
She'd talk to Tristan after the party. She'd tell him everything, and they'd talk and come up with a game plan for the future. In time, he'd have to realize she had done the only thing possible. Becca had to come first. Always.
Sydney didn't sleep for the rest of the night.
chapter fourteen
The mansion looked like it had puked up the color pink.
Tristan placed the platter of chips on the table, snatching a crunchy Cheez Doodle, and tried not to be intimidated. The estrogen pumping through the air was enough to keep him in check. Between the elaborate Happy Birthday signs and the pink glitter, streamers, and gaily wrapped favors, he didn't know where to look. Little girls in elaborate gowns and high-heeled "glass" slippers seemed to be everywhere. They carried purses and wands and all wore tiaras.
So did the grown women.
He figured he'd keep to the background, but Syd and Morgan kept him busy hustling food, fixing broken costume jewelry clasps, and refilling the bright pink punch bowl. Fake gems cluttered every table surface, and they'd already had a scavenger hunt for some type of magic mirror. Poisoned red apples bobbed in a jewel-encrusted bucket. The strains of "Bibbidi-Bobbidi-Boo" exploded from the speakers.