He was done.
He'd marry her. He'd treat her like a wife. He'd eventually fuck her.
But he'd never let his heart open to her again.
"She's my daughter, too," he ground out. "You're not running the show any longer. Any decision regarding Becca will involve me, whether you like it or not."
Furious tears stung her eyes. "Why are you being so ruthless? So cold? It doesn't have to be like this."
He drew back, retreating behind the familiar wall of ice. "You did this to both of us with your lies. This is the only way it can be."
She rose on tiptoes, jabbing her index finger at his chest. "Back off. I'll agree to marry you for Becca's sake, but don't you dare take a righteous attitude with me. I've been protecting her since day one, and you never gave me any reason to trust you with the truth. Not the way you treated me."
He growled, reaching for her, but she spun out of his grip. "You'd better rethink your interpretation of the past. Is that how you lived with yourself these past seven years?"
"If you keep acting like a coldhearted bastard, I'll take my chances on a legal battle rather than marrying you. Think about that."
He didn't have time to answer.
She marched off without a glance back, leaving him alone in an empty bathroom.
chapter seventeen
I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride."
She watched the man who was now her husband lean over and press a hard kiss to her lips. It was formal, brief, and cold.
Just like he was toward her.
She forced a smile at her daughter's burst of clapping and delight, trying to focus on the good things. Becca had been living in a dream. The past week had been a blur of activity with little sleep. A group of movers showed up on Monday morning with instructions to pack and organize her entire house in a few days to move into the mansion. Charlie and Tristan rallied to give her two afternoons off to buy dresses and arrange catering, flowers, and the wedding cake. She barely saw Tristan. Instead of the sitter, he picked Becca up from school, made her dinner, and left promptly when Sydney returned home late from work.
They'd been able to play up the excitement and busyness of the wedding, but Sydney worried once the smoke cleared, her daughter would pick up on the crackling tension between them.
She walked back down the short aisle, smiling and accepting congratulations. The farce looked perfect: from the flower girl dress in a light shade of blush with a puffy skirt Becca adored to her own Carolina Herrera dress in a long slinky V-neck, with just enough lace and shimmer to make it feminine. The back dipped low in a row of pearl encrusted buttons, emphasizing her natural curves without apology. Her shoes could make a grown woman weep. Combining mesh with crystal, the four-inch open-toe pumps glimmered with each step, Gianvito Rossi at his best. The mansion was decorated with dozens of lit candelabras and pink teacup roses in small vases-tasteful and romantic. It was the exact type of wedding she had once dreamed of when she thought of marrying Tristan, yet today she felt trapped in a nightmare.
She'd been so stupid to think they could move forward after she told him the truth. She'd gotten wrapped up with dreams of forgiveness, especially since they'd been falling in love with each other all over again. But for the last week, everyone had treated her with a polite distance, refusing to spend more than a few minutes in her company. Even now, meeting Morgan's and Raven's gazes, she felt their quiet judgment, a simmering resentment that shredded her heart. Cal and Dalton no longer smiled at her, keeping their interactions brief. In the past week, she'd gained a husband but lost an entire family.
Determined to be happy for her daughter's sake, she headed to the formal dining room, where trays of food tempted guests and a champagne fountain cranked steadily. Tristan already held Becca's hand and was guiding her through the buffet line, putting food on her plate. The real problem centered around how little food she allowed on her plate.
"I thought you liked pasta," she heard him say with confusion.
"I do, but only when it's got the red sauce. That has white with green stuff in it."
"It's really good. Do you want to just try a bite?"
"No, thanks. Where are the chicken fingers?"
"I don't think we ordered any. How about sausage and peppers?"
Becca gagged. "I'd die."
"Meatballs?"
"No, thanks."
The man actually looked stressed. Sydney held back a sigh and marched over. "Young lady, there's bread, meatballs, and chicken."
"But the chicken has mushrooms and sauce on it!"
"You've had it before and you liked it. And I want you to have some of those green beans."
Becca gasped. "I hate green beans!"