Chapter 36 Parker
PARKER
Sienna’s walk-in closet is bigger than my first apartment in California—floor-to-ceiling mirrors, custom lighting that makes everyone look like they just stepped off a runway, and enough space that Madame Laurent and her two assistants can work without bumping into each other.
I stand on the small platform in front of the three-way mirror while they make final adjustments to the gown. Storm-grey silk flows around me like liquid shadow, steel-blue accents catching the light with every breath I take, amber beads glinting at my neckline and hem like captured firelight.
“Perfection,” Madame Laurent declares, stepping back to admire her work. “Absolute perfection. You will be unforgettable tonight, mademoiselle.”
I stare at my reflection—the stranger in storm and steel and amber, wearing their colors like armor—and wonder if unforgettable is what I’m going for, or if it’s something closer to unforgivable.
“The mask,” one of the assistants says, presenting the storm-grey silk and steel-blue metalwork creation with its tiny amber crystals like raindrops.
I take it, holding it up to my face. The transformation completes—I look dangerous and elegant in equal measure, like something that belongs to violence and passion and things that leave marks.
“Magnifique,” Madame Laurent breathes. She turns to Sienna, who’s been watching from one of the cream-colored chairs near the window. “Your sister-in-law is a vision, non?”
“She really is,” Sienna agrees, her voice warm but her eyes knowing.
Madame Laurent and her assistants pack up their supplies with efficient precision, offering final compliments and instructions about care for the gown.
Then they’re gone, the door clicking shut behind them, and suddenly it’s just me and Sienna in this enormous closet that still somehow feels intimate.
“You can breathe now,” Sienna says gently. “They’re gone.”
I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding, my shoulders dropping slightly. In the mirror, I watch myself shift from poised to exhausted in the space of a heartbeat.
“Come sit,” Sienna pats the chair beside her. “Carefully. We don’t want to wrinkle the dress before you even leave the house.”
I gather the storm-grey silk and move to the chair, settling into it with the kind of caution that comes from wearing something that costs more than a car. Sienna hands me a glass of champagne I didn’t notice she’d poured.
“You look stunning,” she says. “But you look like you’re about to walk into battle, not a charity gala.”
“Maybe I am,” I mutter, taking a sip of champagne.
Sienna’s quiet for a moment, just watching me. Then: “Want to tell me what’s really going on? And don’t say ‘nothing.’ I’ve known you too long for that bullshit.”
The laugh that escapes me is sharp and a little broken. “Where do I even start?”
“Wherever you need to.”
And suddenly I’m talking. Telling her everything—down to me taking the DNA samples myself two days ago in the gym. Sure, I’d admitted some things to her a few weeks ago on her patio, but I hadn’t gone into detail like this. Plus there have been new developments.
Sienna listens without interrupting, her expression shifting from knowing to sympathetic to quietly furious on my behalf when I get to the part about them doubting me.
“So let me get this straight,” she says when I finally run out of words.
“You’ve been in a relationship with Jace, Cal, and Silas—all three of them—since before you left.
You got pregnant that night with twins who have two different fathers.
You kept it secret to protect them from Dominic.
And now you’re waiting on DNA results to confirm which boy belongs to which man, while simultaneously going to a gala with Ryan Matthews who lied to your brother about having been in contact with you, which caused the three men you love to doubt and investigate you behind your back. ”
When she puts it like that, my life sounds absolutely insane.
“Yeah,” I say weakly. “That about covers it.”
“Jesus Christ, Parker.” But she’s smiling. Actually smiling. “And here I thought my life was complicated.”
“You’re not... horrified? Judging me?”
“For what? For loving three men who clearly worship the ground you walk on? For protecting your children from a man who would have used them?” Sienna shakes her head. “I’m not judging you. I’m impressed you managed to keep it secret this long.”
“You said you thought there was a heavy attraction,” I say suddenly, reading her expression. “But you’re talking like you’ve known this whole time.”
“Correction, I suspected it was more than heavy attraction before we talked a few weeks ago,” she smiles. “You only told me that you slept with all three of them the night of my wedding—you’re welcome by the way.”
“That brings me to another question. Why didn’t you say anything all these years if you suspected something between me and them?”
“Because it wasn’t my secret to tell. And because I figured if you wanted me to know, you’d tell me.” She reaches over, squeezes my hand. “I’m glad you finally did.”
Tears threaten at the corners of my eyes and I blink them back furiously. “I can’t cry. Makeup.”
“Then don’t cry.” But Sienna’s voice is gentle. “Tell me what you’re really afraid of.”
I take a shaky breath. “What if the results come back and I have to tell them which boy belongs to who? What if that changes things? What if whoever isn’t the biological father feels less connected to that child? What if—”
“Stop,” Sienna interrupts firmly. “Parker, I’ve watched those three men with your boys.
I’ve seen Jace teaching them to throw a football.
I’ve seen Cal helping them with their math homework even though they’re five and don’t actually have homework.
I’ve seen Silas let them climb all over him like a jungle gym while he pretends to be annoyed. ”
“I know, but—”
“They love those boys,” Sienna continues. “Both of them. Equally. And finding out biological paternity isn’t going to change that. If anything, it’ll just give them clarity. Let them stop wondering and start just... being.”
“And if they can’t forgive me for not trusting them enough to tell them sooner?”
“Then they’re idiots.” Sienna’s voice is matter-of-fact.
“But they’re your idiots. They’re men who fucked up by not trusting you, who are going to have to watch you walk into that gala on another man’s arm as a direct consequence of their own doubt.
They’ll forgive you. The question is whether you can forgive them. ”
I think about that. About Cal’s distant expression over the past two days. About Jace’s careful formality. About Silas’s visible frustration with both of them.
About the way they all opened their mouths without question when I demanded their DNA.
“I don’t know,” I admit. “I want to. But what if the next time things get complicated, they do the same thing? What if doubt becomes the pattern?”
“Then you leave.” Sienna says it simply, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.
“You take your boys and you build the life you want, with or without them. But Parker—” She waits until I meet her eyes.
“I don’t think it will come to that. I think they’re terrified of losing you.
I think they just got a very painful lesson in what happens when they let someone else’s words override their own knowledge of who you are.
And I think they’re going to spend a very long time proving they’ve learned from it. ”
“You have a lot of faith in them.”
“I have faith in you,” Sienna corrects. “I have faith that you wouldn’t have chosen them if they weren’t worth it. I have faith that you wouldn’t be sitting here in a dress that’s literally designed to claim them publicly if you’d already given up.”
She’s right. The dress, the colors, the deliberate choice to wear storm-grey and steel-blue and amber—it’s all a message. A claim. A reminder.
I’m yours. Even when I’m angry. Even when you’ve fucked up. Even when I’m on another man’s arm.
“There’s my fierce sister,” Sienna says, watching my expression shift. “There’s the woman who’s about to walk into that gala and remind everyone exactly who she is.”
A knock at the door interrupts us.
“Ms. Parker?” Marcus’s voice, muffled through the wood. “Mr. Matthews has arrived.”
My stomach drops.
Sienna stands, moving to her closet. “I have an idea. Trust me?”
“Always.”
She pulls out a long coat—black cashmere, elegant and expensive, the kind of thing that screams wealth without being ostentatious. It’s long enough to cover the dress completely, hiding everything from neckline to hem.
“You’re going to keep this on until you get inside the museum,” Sienna says, helping me into it. “Let everyone see you arrive with Ryan looking... polite. Professional. Then at the top of the grand staircase, when you’re about to descend to the main floor, you take it off.”
I understand immediately. “You want me to save the reveal.”
“I want you to control the reveal,” Sienna corrects. “Jace, Cal, and Silas will be there—they’re in the first car of the caravan. They’ll be watching. And when you take off that coat and they see what you’re wearing...” She smiles. “Well. Let’s just say Ryan Matthews won’t stand a chance.”
“You’re devious.”
“I’m strategic.” She buttons the coat, concealing the storm and steel and amber beneath black cashmere. “Now go show them who you belong to.”
The car smells like expensive cologne and leather—Ryan’s cologne, specifically, something woody and masculine that probably costs more per ounce than my monthly grocery budget used to.
He’s in a classic black tux, perfectly tailored, his dark hair styled with just enough product to look effortless. He looks good. Objectively, undeniably good.
And I feel absolutely nothing.
“You look beautiful,” he says as Marcus pulls away from the main house, falling into line behind the other cars in the caravan. “That coat is stunning.”