Chapter 34
VINCENT
Pulling off my surprise trip to California had been shockingly easy.
I knew Brooklyn would try to talk me out of it if she caught onto my plans, so I hadn’t told a soul except for Coach.
I’d expected pushback, but he’d approved my days off without further questions.
He knew Brooklyn didn’t want to go, and he obviously didn’t have a high opinion of his ex-wife.
Judging by the way he’d almost smiled when I told him what I was planning, he might’ve actually respected me more for what I’d done.
Coach was overly protective and hardheaded, but he genuinely cared about Brooklyn.
Her mother, on the other hand, was a different story.
“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Wilker.” According to Brooklyn, that was her new married name.
Brooklyn, her mother, and I were seated at a rooftop restaurant near the beach for brunch. Brooklyn had texted her mum to let her know I would be joining them and hadn’t gotten a response, but she’d brought me anyway.
“Please, call me Sienna. Mrs. Wilker makes me sound so old.” Sienna appeared unfazed by my presence, but her brows pulled together as she examined me. “You look familiar. Why do you look familiar?”
“I guess I just have that kind of face,” I said.
Brooklyn snorted out a laugh.
“Brooklyn, please. What have I said about making those types of noises?” Sienna admonished. “It’s unladylike.”
“I like it.” I set my menu aside and took a sip of water. “Being ladylike is overrated.”
Brooklyn snuck a quick glance at me. A small smile played around her mouth while her mother’s expression tightened.
“Everyone’s certainly entitled to their own opinion,” she said, her tone a touch cooler than before. “Let’s order, shall we?”
Five minutes with her, and she lived up to every expectation I had given what Brooklyn had told me about her.
The two of them bore striking physical similarities—the same golden hair and cornflower blue eyes, the same freckles and heart-shaped face. But that was where the resemblance ended. Whereas Brooklyn was witty and empathetic, her mother was the exact opposite.
Sienna spent the majority of the meal talking about herself—the nursery she’d built for her new baby, the personal trainer she’d hired to whip her back into shape after she gave birth, the shopping spree she’d go on once she lost her pregnancy weight.
I’d tried to meet her with an open mind, but if it weren’t for Brooklyn, I would’ve jumped off the roof by now.
“I can have my stylist pick out some items for you, darling,” Sienna said. “You’re always in activewear. That’s for Pilates, not the public.”
“Wearing comfortable clothing is part of my job,” Brooklyn said.
“Which is why I don’t understand why you chose sports nutrition.” Her mum wrinkled her nose. “You have my looks. You could’ve been a model or an actress.”
“I didn’t know you were a model and actress,” I interjected smoothly. “What were you in?” During our pre-brunch briefing earlier that morning, Brooklyn told me Sienna had worked in marketing before she met her current husband and quit her job.
Sienna’s mouth pursed. “I didn’t say I was.” It clearly pained her to admit it. “I said Brooklyn could’ve been one of those two.”
“Because she has your looks. But you also have your looks, so why didn’t you go into modeling or acting?” I paused before adding, “I’m sure Hollywood would’ve loved you.”
She stared at me, obviously trying to figure out whether my last statement was a dig or a compliment.
“It didn’t work out. I had a child to raise,” she finally said, somewhat pointedly. Sienna turned to Brooklyn, shutting me out. “How is your job going? Have they promoted you yet?”
Brooklyn’s smile flickered and died. “Um, they offered me a permanent position at Blackcastle, but I turned it down. I’m between jobs at the moment.”
I expected her mother to flip out. Instead, her eyes lit up like she’d won the lottery. “Are you switching fields? Finally! I know a wonderful photographer who can set you up with test shots. You don’t have the high fashion look, but I bet they could get you a commercial booking—”
“I’m not switching fields.” Brooklyn sounded tired. “I still want to be a nutritionist. I just can’t stay at Blackcastle.”
“Oh.” The other woman pressed her lips together. “I don’t understand. Then why not stay at Blackcastle?”
“It wasn’t the right long-term fit.”
It was as though the conversation had sent out an alert to the universe because less than a minute after they brought up Blackcastle, a youngish-looking guy with a short blond ponytail bounded over from a nearby table.
“I’m so sorry to bother you while you’re eating, but are you Vincent DuBois?” he asked.
I nodded, already knowing where this was going.
His face broke out into a wide smile. “I knew that was you! Do you mind if we grab a selfie? I’m a huge fan.”
“Sure.” Some footballers refused to entertain fans during their personal time, but what the hell.
We were in San Diego. There weren’t a lot of football fans here—though it was a weird coincidence to run into one at brunch—and no one else seemed too bothered by my presence.
It was only a problem if the selfie turned into a photo line.
When Ponytail Guy left, Sienna put the pieces together.
“Oh, you’re a soccer player. That’s where I know you from.” Based on her tone, she had a lower estimation of my career than she did a wad of gum on her shoe. She slanted a glance at Brooklyn. “I should’ve known. It’s always about soccer.”
“I’m not dating him because of his job, Mom. We met at Blackcastle, but our relationship doesn’t revolve around football.”
“Hmm. Far be it for me to tell you who you should date, but that’s one of the reasons your father and I divorced. He was obsessed with the sport. Couldn’t bother to pay attention to me the entire time we were married.” Sienna flicked her gaze toward me. “How long have you been dating again?”
It was the first time she’d asked about our relationship since we sat down, which was pretty wild since I was the boyfriend who’d gatecrashed their mother-daughter brunch at the last minute. Most people would be curious right off the bat.
“We’ve been dating for a month, but we’ve known each other for a year and a half,” I replied.
“A month? Why am I only finding out about this now?”
“I figured I’d tell you in person since I was already going to be here,” Brooklyn said. “We don’t talk much on the phone anyway.”
“Well, whose fault is that, darling? You can pick up the phone any time.”
My reaction was swift and visceral. Every muscle in my body coiled, and I was already halfway out of my chair before I caught myself. I sat back down, my teeth grinding as the metal handle of my fork dug into my palm.
This wasn’t my fight. Not yet. I didn’t want to make a scene and embarrass Brooklyn in public, but God, I wanted to wipe that condescending expression off Sienna’s face.
Brooklyn placed a reassuring hand on my knee underneath the table. “I’m going to use the restroom,” she said calmly. “I’ll be right back.”
She left, her quick steps taking her across the rooftop and into the main restaurant. I waited until she was out of sight before I pounced.
“Why did you ask her to fly back here?” I’d smoothed the sharpest edges of my anger, but the rest of it seeped out with tightly controlled venom.
“Excuse me?”
“Brooklyn. You asked her to fly eleven hours to California so she can hold your hand while you give birth, yet you act like you don’t want her here. Why is that?”
Sienna’s fork hit her plate with a loud clink. Her lips parted in shock, and I’d bet my last dollar no one had talked to her like that in years, if ever.
“Because she’s my daughter and this is my family, which is why it doesn’t concern you. You’ve been dating for a month. I don’t have to explain myself to you, and frankly, I don’t like your tone.”
“That’s where you’re wrong.” I leaned back, my voice deceptively calm. “It does concern me when you treat her like shit. You may be her family, and Brooklyn and I may have only started dating a month ago, but I care about her. A lot. Which is more than I can say for you.”
She glared at me, her mouth a thin slash against her rapidly reddening face.
I hadn’t come to California with the intention of confronting Brooklyn’s mother.
I was here for moral support, but seeing their dynamic in real time made my stomach turn.
Sienna was a true narcissist. Brooklyn was aware of that, but I think a part of her still hoped her mother would have a sudden epiphany and treat her like a real daughter one day.
The problem was, narcissists never changed. At the end of the day, they only cared about themselves. If they displayed the same pattern of behavior for almost thirty years, they’d continue that pattern for the next thirty.
I couldn’t say that to Brooklyn without stepping way over the line, but I could give Sienna a piece of my mind.
“I’m aware we only met an hour ago,” I said.
“But in that hour, you’ve asked about her life exactly twice.
You spent the rest of the time talking about yourself, berating her, or delivering some sort of backhanded compliment.
You must rely on her somewhat for emotional support if you asked her to come here, yet you refuse to show her any warmth or appreciation.
Or maybe you don’t rely on her at all. Maybe you just wanted to see how far she’d jump for you if you asked.
Either way, it’s bullshit. She deserves better than this. ”