Trey made himself scarce on Christmas Eve day, which allowed me the opportunity to wrap his gifts. I then spent time in the kitchen with Susan making Christmas cookies. She baked, I decorated, and we talked and talked. I wanted to know things about Trey and she was more than happy to tell me.
“You know Trey is eight years younger than Tristan,” she said, smiling at a particular memory that must have surfaced. I nodded, dusting a stocking-shaped cookie with red sprinkles.
“Well, it was almost like Trey was an only child with the gap in their ages, and I know he probably was a bit more spoiled as a result, but he’d follow Tristan around like a puppy. I’ll never forget this one time; Tristan had recently turned 16 so Trey would have been seven, not quite eight years old. Clive and I had bought Tristan a used pick-up truck for his 16th birthday. Tristan was proud of it; he kept it pristine, bought a tonneau cover for it, put a new sound system in it and everything. Well, Tristan had a girlfriend, Kate, who he'd been seeing for a while. Anyway, this one evening in early summer, Tristan and Kate drove out to Steele Creek Park,” she giggled at the memory.
“Don’t you know that Trey had hidden in the back of Tristan’s truck, underneath the tonneau cover? Tristan and Kate were getting rather hot and heavy in the cab of the truck and Trey came out from under that cover and saw the whole thing through the back window of the truck,” she said, now laughing harder.
She wiped a tear from her eye as she continued, “Well, all of a sudden Tristan heard Trey yelling, ‘I’m going to tell Daddy on you Tristan! We aren’t supposed to let anyone touch our pee-pee.’”
“Oh no,” I exclaimed, doubling over with laughter, “that’s a whoot! How did you find out about it?”
“Oh, well Tristan was fit to be tied. He hauled Trey back home, threatening to pummel him good if he said anything to either Clive or me about it. He dropped Trey off in the driveway and took off again with Kate. Trey was stubborn, and not one to be easily intimidated by his older brothers. He marched right in the house where Clive and I were entertaining some friends and told us that Tristan was ‘bumping uglies’ with Kate in his truck. I thought his Daddy was going to bust a blood vessel. Of course that precipitated the talk Clive had with Tristan about safe sex and all. We laugh about it to this day.”
“What was Trey’s relationship like with Nigel?” I asked.
“Nigel is two years older than Tristan, so ten years older than Trey. To be honest, Nigel was pretty much out and about his business by the time Trey was five or so. Nigel went away to boarding school after the eighth grade. Tristan went to the local high school because he played a lot of sports. I'd say that Nigel is more academic, Tristan is more athletic, and Trey, I guess I'd say Trey is a combination of both. You'll definitely see a physical resemblance between Tristan and Trey. My God, the day I delivered Trey it was as if I was looking at Tristan the day he was born. You never forget what your babies look like the day they’re born, honey. I’ll tell you that.” She smiled at me warmly, pulling another sheet of cookies from the oven.
“Why do you think Tristan has never married? Not that thirty-nine is ancient for still being single.”
“He had one long-term relationship out in California. We really thought that he would marry Tara,” she said. “Clive and I liked her. You kind of remind me of her,” she added. “She had the same coloring and build as you have. I don’t know what happened with them. Tristan is a fairly private person.”
“I guess Trey’s kind of like that as well,” I commented.
“Not lately,” she said, smiling, “his emotions are very loud and clear where you're concerned Tylar. I’ve never seen Trey so in love. I’m so happy to see how deeply you love him too.”
“I do,” I smiled, flushing, “he’s my world, Susan.”
Later Trey and I busied ourselves decorating the tree that he and Clive had freshly cut. Susan and Clive had brought down all of the lights and ornaments, some of them made by the boys when they were in grade school.
I was particularly fond of an ornament that Trey had made in the second grade, according to Susan. It was a Christmas angel that had a wooden bead for a head and a wired Christmas tree bow was hot glued to the back for the angel’s wings. A metallic pipe cleaner formed the halo; the angel’s gown had gold and silver glitter. It was attached to wire ornament hook with a string knotted around it. I looked at the ornament a little closer. The angel’s white cotton gown flared out into something I recognized.
“Trey, is your Christmas angel made out of a…tampon?”
He looked down from the ladder, the tree-topper in his hand, and studied the angel ornament I held. Recognizing it, he gave me his crooked grin. “Yeah, a tampon,” he replied. “Some people don’t catch that.”
“Uh, it’s kind of hard to miss it,” I replied, laughing. Once we'd put the finishing touches on the tree, I suggested to Trey that he bring down the presents we wrapped to arrange beneath it.
“Come help me?” he asked, playfully. I rolled my eyes and followed him up the stairs. Trey shut and locked our bedroom door, then turned to me. His expression was clear.
∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞
We were showered and dressed for the Christmas Eve festivities shortly after 2 p.m., our faces still flushed and my hormones thoroughly satisfied. Trey looked gorgeous as usual in black flannel dress pants, a white with grey pinstriped shirt, and maroon silk suspenders. I was wearing a black wool pencil skirt that fell below my knees, with a black scoop-neck tee, and a dark red wool blazer. I wore silk thigh-high stockings and a pair of black passion pumps with skinny medium-height heels. Trey had said no to the ‘fuck me’ spiked heels.
We descended the stairs to the foyer as the limo arrived with Trey’s brothers and Caroline. I felt nervous and jittery. It was easy to be with Trey’s parents, they were friendly and nonjudgmental. I had no clue what his brothers would be like, let alone the dreaded Caroline. Trey and I waited in the living room near the lit Christmas tree, presents arranged neatly beneath its branches.
Susan and Clive greeted them as they ascended the steps to the foyer. I heard Susan squeal and embrace her elder two sons. Thatcher carried their luggage to their suites. Clive took everyone’s wraps, hanging them in the guest closet while Susan shooed everyone into the large and elegant living room.
Trey stood, locking his hand into mine and immediately I saw Tristan. My God, Susan was right. Trey held a striking resemblance to him, though you could tell in subtle ways that Tristan was several years older. They were approximately the same height and build, yet Tristan’s hair was more of a sandy brown, compared to Trey’s darker locks and burnished natural highlights. Tristan wore his hair a bit longer than Trey’s, probably because his chosen profession was more casual—winemaking—than Trey’s. Tristan caught me staring and I blushed. Both of the men made their way over to us.
“Nigel, I’d like you to meet Tylar Preston, my soon-to-be fiancée. And Tylar, this is my oldest brother Nigel.”
I smiled and took Nigel’s hand. He was handsome, though he bore little resemblance to Tristan or Trey. Nigel was shorter and built stockier with very dark hair and dark brown eyes. He held out his hand, greeting me warmly. Just then there was action in the foyer. I heard a shrill female voice in distress.
“Nigel,” she whined, “Are you positive I didn’t bring that other case with my suede pumps and matching purse in it?”
Oh wow, that had to be Caroline.
“Darling,” he said, patiently, “you’ve brought more than enough shoes for the few days we’ll be here. One pair couldn’t possibly make a difference. Come say ‘hello’ to Trey and his fiancée.” I could tell that Nigel was used to placating her.
Caroline was tall and thin, almost too thin. Her face had sharp features, which was punctuated with a beakish nose. Her pale, taut countenance hinted that she’d already had a face lift at forty-something. Her grey eyes revealed nothing as she sized me up. She appeared to be taken aback by my appearance. I quickly reassessed my outf
it and hair; nothing seemed to be out of place or in poor taste. She wore a casual pantsuit.
Trey stepped forward, kissing his sister-in-law on both cheeks as she tilted her face to him. “Caroline, ageless as always.”
With the help of a west coast plastic surgeon, I bet.
“Trey, still the flirt I see,” she said, gushing.
“Caroline,” Trey said, pulling me close to him and turning to me, “I’d like to introduce you to Tylar Preston, who’s agreed to be my wife.”
I could see a hint of surprise cross her otherwise impassive face. She held her long, thin hand out to me with a forced smile. “Tylar, welcome to the family,” she said without sincerity. “Susan has told me so much about you already,” she commented, with an underlying tone that I couldn’t identify.
“Caroline, it’s good to meet you. Trey’s spoken of you as well.”
I saw a glint of irritation cross her tight unwrinkled face. Trey squeezed my hand and when I looked at him I saw a hint of a smile on his lips.
“Trey, I see you’re saving the best for last,” a familiar smooth and silky voice said. The voice didn’t come from Trey; it was Tristan who spoke up, moving closer to us, his eyes locked on mine. My stomach did a bit of a flip-flop and I wasn’t sure why.
“Tristan,” Trey greeted his brother warmly, grabbing his hand and slapping him on the back. Tristan turned his attention to me, his emerald green eyes flickering over me.
“So this is Tylar,” he purred, taking my hand and raising it delicately to his full lips.
Trey was unfazed. Perhaps this was Tristan’s way with all women.
“You are exquisite,” Tristan breathed, not taking his eyes from mine, “but then my younger brother has a penchant for exquisite women.”
His comment made me uncomfortable and struck me as confusing; I decided to file it away for future reference. “Tristan, I'm pleased to meet you,” I replied, pulling my hand from his finally, finding Trey’s hand beside me and locking mine into it. Tristan threw his head back, seeming to laugh heartily at my discomfort. “You better watch her, Trey,” he said, “She’ll turn heads I can see that now.”
Trey looked down at me, smiling. “There’s only one head she’s interested in turning big brother,” he replied, “and that’s mine.”
“Touché,” Tristan replied, locking his gaze upon me.
Susan had the staff bring out some eggnog, wine, and brandy. Trey fetched me a sparkling water. Everyone filled their respective cups or glasses with the spirit of their choice. I noticed that both Trey and Tristan chose brandy; Caroline drank white wine; Clive, Susan, and Nigel sipped eggnog.
Clive stood with his cup of eggnog raised to toast, “To having all of my family here and healthy for this very special Christmas; to welcome our soon-to-be new family member, Tylar, who already feels like a daughter to Susan and me. Welcome Tylar, and Merry Christmas everyone!”
“Hear, hear,” Tristan said, raising his glass of brandy, and clinking it with everyone else’s in the circle, one by one. As he got to my sparkling water, he clinked my glass, winking and taking a drink of his brandy, his green eyes locking once again with mine.
“To family,” he whispered.
Chapter 50
We sat down to an elegant Christmas Eve dinner. The staff had prepared a beautiful crown roast of pork with apple-cranberry stuffing, truffled twice-baked potatoes, asparagus casserole, and glazed carrots. Susan served Trey’s chocolate pie for dessert.
Caroline picked at her food, commenting that she tried to avoid pork in her diet at all costs. I looked over as Tristan rolled his eyes at her statement, and then flashed a smile at me when he realized he'd been caught. After dinner, the family retired to the living room and reclined on the sofas near the Christmas tree. Trey pulled me next to him, his arm relaxed over my shoulders. Clive poured after-dinner brandy for everyone and he brought me a sparkling water.
“Tylar, I see that you don’t imbibe,” Tristan commented, lounging on the armrest of the opposite sofa, sipping his brandy.
“Well…” I stammered, unsure if Trey was ready to tell everyone. Trey interjected on my behalf.
“Everyone,” he said, “now is as good a time as any to share our wonderful news.” Trey pulled a Cartier ring box from his pants pocket. He turned to me and held it open, his eyes beaming with love. “Tylar has agreed to be my bride. Though I’d marry her this minute, my fiancée has stipulated that we wait until after the birth of our child in May.”
Caroline’s shocked gasp from across the room was quickly drowned out by the sound of happy applause and congratulations. I froze in a temporary state of panic, not generally accustomed to having all eyes on me.
“Tylar,” Trey said softly, bringing me out of my daze, “do you accept this ring as a token of my love and promise of our engagement to be married?”
“Oh Trey,” I cried joyfully, “you know that I do.” I lifted the ring out of the box. An emerald-cut diamond sat atop a platinum band, dancing with color. There was a baguette ruby, my birthstone, on each side of the enormous diamond.
Trey proudly slid the ring onto my finger, giving me a sweet kiss on my lips. I threw my arms around his neck, tears streaming down my face.
Susan rushed to my side, taking my hand to admire the ring. “We’re sure happy that you’re going to officially be a member of the family, Tylar, but I’ve got to tell you something, you already feel like a daughter to us!” I hugged her tightly, catching the sour expression on Caroline’s face. She was the only person who'd not done anything but gasp at the news. Was she more shocked by the engagement or the baby?
Caroline finally sauntered over to me and glanced at the ring, my hand still in Susan’s. “Nice,” she commented, “a much bigger diamond than the one you gave Tess.”
My head jerked up in shock. Caroline’s taut countenance remained expressionless. I felt Trey’s muscles tense at my side. Nigel ignored her comment, which was probably the result of years of conditioning. He'd learned to tune her out.
Tristan finally broke the silence, “A much bigger diamond for a much greater love I think, dear Caroline,” he commented, not taking his sharp green eyes off of me.
I flushed nervously, glancing up at Caroline who was downing her glass of wine, impassive to his comment.
“Nigel, it appears we’ll be uncles soon,” Tristan said, smiling at his older brother.
“How about that? Congratulations to you both!” Nigel replied warmly.
“Do you know whether it’s a boy or a girl yet?” Caroline asked.
“We decided to be surprised,” Trey replied.
“I think we’re all pretty much surprised now,” Caroline commented, refilling her wine glass. “Don’t they teach safe sex in fourth grade these days?” she said, catching my eye.
“Caroline,” Susan said, her voice carrying a distinct warning, “please remember yourself while you’re with us. This family is ecstatic about the arrival of our first grandchild.”
Trey’s arm around me was so tightly muscled that it made my shoulder ache. I looked up at him and could tell he was seething. I placed my hand on his chest and he lowered his gaze to me. I shook my head ‘no’ in an effort to avoid further comments that would only escalate the situation.
“Have you picked out any names?” Tristan asked, sipping his brandy.
Susan piped up, “Tylar are you still going with ‘Jack’ and ‘Danielle’?”
Uh oh.
Tristan immediately made the connection, a broad smile lighting across his handsome features, revealing his dimple. Trey squirmed beside me uncomfortably. Tristan was enjoying Trey’s discomfort.
“We’re still kicking various names around for now,” I lied.
“Where are your people from Tylar?” Caroline semi-slurred.
“I’m from around Louisville, Kentucky. I attended Virginia Intermont College here in Bristol. Trey and I met this past summer when I worked for Sinclair Stables,” I replied.
“Anothe
r V.I.C. coed under your belt so to speak, Trey,” she replied, not disguising the smarminess in her voice.
Tristan interjected. “Trey, how about you, Tylar, and I take a walk to the stables? I understand you’ve been handling a lot of the buying and breeding here. Father said you had a stellar season.”
I was relieved to have a reason, any reason to get away from Caroline. “Trey,” I agreed, “let’s get our jackets. I think a walk would be nice.” He nodded, obviously still pissed about Caroline’s last comment.
Out in the barn, Trey showed Tristan some of the warm bloods he'd purchased this summer. I checked on Derringer, deciding to brush him in his stall. He nuzzled my coat pockets, curious for carrots. The brothers came over to Derringer’s stall.
“Trey tells me you do quite well with dressage, Tylar,” Tristan commented. “I’d enjoy seeing your competition videos from this past season.”
“I’m sure Dad has them in the house somewhere,” Trey replied, pulling me close to him. He looked proud of me and I liked that feeling.
“Did Trey tell you I also did pretty well quarter racing for Sinclair Stables?” I asked, giving Trey a devilish smile.
“No, he didn’t mention that, which horse did you race?”
“Jezebel, she’s stabled over at the Belle,” I replied. “Yep, took a first place purse in a feature race. I likely would’ve taken the bonus purse that night until Jezebel was scratched.”
Tristan glanced at me and saw that I was looking at Trey. He looked back and forth between the two of us trying to figure out what he was missing. Trey finally caved and blurted out his side of the story.
“Tylar went against my instructions. She was recovering from a concussion so I didn’t want her handling the horses. So what does she do? She enters herself as the jockey for Jezebel in the Kick-Off Season Stakes!”
“So the doctor hadn’t released you to ride, is that it?” Tristan asked me.
“No, Trey hadn’t released me to ride,” I clarified.
Tristan was laughing now, looking at both of us, “And Trey had the horse scratched from the race?”
Shattered Dreams (Dreams Series Book 1) Page 38