38. Jane
CHAPTER 38
JANE
Before Adrian blocks my view, I get a chance to look at Sydney as if for the first time—and to realize just how much we look alike. That realization stirs all sorts of impossible-to-untangle emotions. The key one, strangely, is that I want to get to know this woman a little better, despite hating her guts so recently.
Unlike Tristan, who chose not to be in my life, Sydney had no choice, and it seems that in her own twisted way, she longs to have a family.
“I can’t believe you just left after the hearing was done,” Sydney sneers at Adrian. “Just as it was time to put together a visitation schedule that you claimed you so desperately wanted.”
“I went after Jane,” he snaps back. “Who was hurt by your stunt, I might add.”
“Oh, please. We’re not in court anymore, so you don’t have to pretend that your little marriage is actually real.”
That one hurts a lot because it’s true.
Adrian’s back tenses. “You’re unbelievable. First, you?—”
“Shut up,” I say, snapping out of my paralysis. Stepping from behind Adrian so I can see Sydney’s face, I clarify, “And I’m talking about the both of you. Seriously, you now share custody of a wonderful little human, so you need to learn how to act like adults, and soon.”
Adrian looks like his sheepish dog, and to her credit, Sydney appears somewhat chastised as well.
“I didn’t come here to fight,” she says in a calmer tone, looking at me. “Or even to talk to him.”
“Then why did you come?” Adrian demands again. “And how do you even know where Jane lives?”
“The background check, obviously,” she replies with an eyeroll. Returning her attention to me, she says quietly, “Your mother said you went here after my dad’s revelations.”
Ah, so Tristan told her. Not great timing if you ask me. But then again, if he had great timing, he’d probably already be in my life.
“What does Tristan have to do with anything?” Adrian asks.
Crap. I never got a chance to tell him the big news.
Ignoring him, Sydney looks at me searchingly. “Do you think it’s true?”
“Is what true?” Adrian asks.
“Stay out of this,” Sydney snaps at him. More calmly, she adds, “Please. This is between me and Jane.”
I put a reassuring hand on Adrian’s shoulder. “Let us talk. I’ll explain shortly.” To Sydney, I say, “I still haven’t fully processed it myself, but I think it is true… especially when I look at you.”
We stare at each other some more. I feel Adrian’s shoulder tightening further under my hand, so before he can snipe at my sister some more, I blurt, “Tristan is the sperm donor. Sorry I didn’t get a chance to tell you on our way over. I was going to?—”
“He’s what?” Adrian looks like his brain is about to explode.
“My father is her father,” Sydney says to him snidely. “We’re half-sisters. Don’t you see how much she looks like me? You clearly have a type.” She swings her gaze to me. “And I mean that last one as a compliment.”
I guess if you think as highly of yourself as she does, stating that she and I are the same “type” is a compliment.
“What is she talking about?” says a small voice from behind me.
Oh, shit. I spin around and see Mary standing there with her backpack, eyes wide as two quarters.
Right. School is already out.
“Who is that?” Sydney asks, her own eyes widening.
“Why did she say she’s your sister?” Mary demands.
Oh, crap. I guess there’s no easing her into it.
“Mary, this is Sydney, Piper’s mom,” I say in a measured tone. I face Sydney. “This is my little sister, Mary. Like you and I, Mary and I share a parent… but it isn’t Tristan.”
Mary’s eyes gleam with excitement, and in one single breath she rattles out, “You learned who your father is? That’s awesome. And he’s Piper’s mom’s father too? That means you’re Piper’s aunt! Does that mean that I’m also Piper’s aunt?”
I look at Sydney for help with that last one. Strictly speaking, Piper and Mary do not share any DNA, but I don’t have the heart to explain that.
To my utter amazement, the corners of Sydney’s lips lift and—speaking in babytalk for some unknown reason—she croons, “Of course, sweetie. You can be Piper’s honorary aunt.”
“Cool,” Mary says. “But why are you talking to me like I’m a toddler? I’m ten years old.”
“Going on forty,” I add.
Sydney smiles in earnest now. In a normal voice, she says, “If you’re Piper’s honorary aunt, can I be your honorary sister?”
“Yes,” Mary says without hesitation.
Sydney looks my way, her usual haughtiness tempered with uncertainty. “You’re okay with that, right?”
I hesitate, then nod. Because what the hell? Whatever my newly discovered half-sister’s issues are, she does seem to like kids and be good with them.
Or so I assume. If she were a bad mom to Piper, Adrian would’ve likely hired assassins instead of lawyers.
I decide to extend an olive branch too. “I’m okay with it if my mom is.”
And poof—a black Cadillac pulls up to the curb at that moment, and Mom steps out.
Because of course.
“Wow,” Mary says. “Speak of the devil, and she’ll splurge on an Uber Black.”
As Mom walks up to us, she doesn’t seem to be surprised to see Sydney or Adrian here—or she’s a good actress.
“Mom.” Mary points at Sydney. “Can I be her honorary sister?” Looking sheepish, she turns to said honorary-sister-to-be and adds, “What was your name again?”
“Sydney. Like the city in Australia.”
“Cool. I’m Mary, in case you forgot. After Marianne Dashwood, from Sense and Sensibility .”
Mom shakes her head. “Mary is your grandmother’s name.”
“It is?” Mary cocks her head. “How did I not know that?”
“Because you only have the one,” I theorize. “If there were two, you’d need to designate them, either by name or nickname.”
“I’m pretty sure I’ve mentioned it,” Mom says. “But let’s get back to the honorary sister business.” She turns to Sydney. “I’ll consider it if you let me be Piper’s honorary grandmother in return.”
As Sydney examines my mom, she reminds me of Mrs. Corsica. “Can we get to know each other a little first?” she says after a long pause.
“I was just thinking the same thing,” Mom says. “Want to come in for tea?”
Sydney nods and they all go into the house, leaving me and Adrian looking at each other in befuddlement.
Mrs. Westfield must applaud the choice of tea as the refreshment for any civilized tête-à-tête.
“Should we go somewhere else?” Adrian asks. “I still need to talk to you.”
“How about my room?” I point up. I’ve always wanted to bring a hot guy there and have never got the chance.
Adrian smiles. “Will your mother mind?”
“No, but we shouldn’t tell her, or else she’ll provide us with condoms and unsolicited sex advice.”
His expression turns roguish. “Want to sneak me into your room?”
I grin like a loon. “I thought you’d never ask.”
And so, the two of us, grown-ass adults, tiptoe up the staircase and then to my room—even though the loud conversation in the kitchen makes the stealth unnecessary.
“Called it.” Adrian points at all the bulging bookshelves. “Historical romance, right?”
“Yes, but that’s not the only thing that defines me,” I say with mock sternness. “I bet you didn’t know about this.” I pick up the stuffed penguin I used to sleep with… until very recently. “Mr. Tuxedo has no connection to those books whatsoever.”
“I wouldn’t dream of condensing you to just one thing,” Adrian says. “Though if I did, it wouldn’t be books. It would be your blushing cheeks.”
Great. My treacherous cheeks choose that exact moment to turn red, as if to help him make his point.
“Yes, those.” He leans in and pecks one of the burning cheeks with his cool, luscious lips. Drawing back to look at me, he says softly, “But I think I want to change my answer. If I had to define you by one thing, it would be your Mona Lisa-like smile. No. It would be how good you are with Piper. Actually, no. It would be?—”
I grab his shoulders, rise on tiptoes, and lock lips with him, in part to shut him up but more so because I really, really want to.
He kisses me back fervently, but after a minute or so, he gently pulls away, even though heat still blazes in his eyes. His voice is rough. “Sorry, but I still need to tell you something.”
I look at his lips longingly. “If it’s about what you said after the wedding night, I forgive you. I think you were actually right. Piper is worth being careful. But now that the hearing has gone your way, maybe we can?—”
Adrian cradles my face in his palms, scrambling my brain so much I forget how to speak.
I think I see what he’s about to say in his eyes before his lips move, and then he utters three words: “I love you.”
My heart turns into a bunny on steroids.
“It’s something I realized at the hearing,” he continues. “But I think I’ve felt it for a long time. I was just afraid to let myself?—”
“I love you too,” I say, coming out of my stupor. “I love your roguish eyes, your rakish grin, your inventiveness. And—not to sound like a copycat—I love the way you are with Piper. No. I love?—”
This time, he’s the one who kisses me, and we imbue this kiss with all the things we haven’t yet gotten the chance to say to each other, like how I also hated it when we didn’t speak. Or how I dreamed of kissing him again, and not just kissing but also?—
As if reading my thoughts, Adrian begins to undress, first himself and then me—all without stopping the kiss.
When we’re naked, he whispers, “It shouldn’t hurt this time around.”
And he’s right. It doesn’t.
It’s like the best scene in every romance I’ve ever read, only infinitely hotter because it’s him.