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“Yeah, I should have left that.” Trystan brought back the spoon he’d used and handed it to Storm before he took a chair at the back of the table, next to Cloe.
When he reached out to retrieve his coffee, his knee brushed Cloe’s under the table, making her so aware of him, she blushed. She refused to look at him so she wouldn’t betray why she was blushing, but she was grossly aware that he probably knew.
As if this situation wasn’t excruciating enough. Why? Why did she have to react to him this way? She didn’t even like men anymore. Not that she was into women. Or anyone, really. She was firmly disenchanted with relationships and sex and trusting people on any level. When she had left LA, she had been convinced she was dead inside.
It made sense that Storm would open the tap on her emotions again, but this attraction to Trystan shouldn’t be happening. It wasn’t even real. She was reacting to a fantasy version of him that she had constructed over hours and hours of watching him online.
He must see women behave this way so often, he was bored of it. He got a lot of female attention. She’d read the online comments and watched the clips of grown women acting like adolescents, fawning over him.
Thankfully, the baby was entertaining. Cloe was able to fixate on her and pretend she had forgotten Trystan existed. Storm got her own spoon in the way of Emma’s and voiced her opinion in a loud crowing noise, but the silence between the adults drew out, thick and screamingly awkward.
“How did—” Emma began.
“Why—” Reid spoke at the same time and cut himself off, waving an invitation to Emma. “You go ahead.”
“I was going to ask how it went this morning, but that can wait. What were you going to say?”
“I was wondering why Cloe was unable to leave California until a week ago.” He turned his attention on her so antagonistically, she sat back in her chair with a mentalOof.
Another even less comfortable silence crashed down around them.
“What kind of time do you have?” Cloe joked, pretty sure that revealing her troubles would not endear her to any of them.
“Efforts were made by the ministry to contact you when the plane went down,” Reid said, sounding very much the detached corporate consultant. “Emma told them Tiffany had a sister, but no one had your details. Since Emma was the only caregiver Storm knew, we kept her on while we came back here to look after her and run this place.” He gave the marina a distracted wave. “Then Em and I married, and we all genuinely believe the best thing for Storm is for us to adopt her.”
“Sophie explained that,” Cloe murmured, dropping her gaze into the black hole of her coffee mug. “I wanted to come when Tiffany told me she was pregnant, but it seemed smarter to wait until the baby arrived, since technically I would only be able to stay in the country six months. I thought…” A lot of overly optimistic things, like that Ivan would change. “I thought if I applied for a work visa, I would be able to stay longer and maybe be the nanny Tiff needed. By the time I got the visa, other parts of my life had gone sideways. I wasn’t able to leave California until last week.”
She wondered how much they knew. Enough, she suspected, to put those frowns of guardedness and apprehension on their faces.
“What are your plans now?” Trystan asked her.
He had a really deep voice. The brothers all sounded similar, but Trystan’s voice was familiar from his show. She could easily pick it out from the others.
“This,” she admitted wryly, nodding at Storm. “I didn’t think beyond finding her and seeing for myself that she’s well. I thought that once I found her, I could get a job and a place to rent nearby.” She tilted her head with self-deprecation at how naïve that thought had been. Who knew there were so few options here? “I just really want her to know that, you know, her mom’s family cares about her as much as her dad’s does.” Her voice rasped on that truth.
Emma gave a small flinch and scraped at the bowl she held.
Cloe couldn’t tell if she was reacting to Cloe referring to Tiffany as Storm’s mom or something else.
Footsteps on the stairs from the floor below had everyone looking that direction. Logan and Sophie came into the kitchen.
“We thought you two had left.” Reid was still standing near the coffeepot, hips leaned on the counter while he sipped from his mug.
“My boots are up here.” Sophie walked toward the front door. “I’m going back to work becausesomebodyhas to run this place.”
“You’re doing great,” Trystan called out with pleasant cheer.
“Yeah. Eleven out of ten,” Reid agreed with a nod.
“Thanks. I’ll bring it up at my next review.” Sophie threw a raised brow at Logan.
“You’ll come back for dinner?” Emma asked. “I invited Cloe. Trystan will be here.” She glanced at him.
Trystan gave one jerky nod. He was radiating tension that made Cloe tense in response.
Emma and Sophie exchanged menu ideas, then Logan kissed Sophie and she left. Logan came into the kitchen to pour himself a coffee, asking, “How long are you staying, Cloe?Whereare you staying?”
Was her entire life about making the same statements again and again? It was exhausting. It really was.
