Sylvia looked around the cathedral and smiled. Absolutely stunning. The vaulted ceilings decorated with ethereal beings. Stained glass windows that showed the best of humanity. Where better to begin a new life together?
Guests filtered in with increasing numbers. Sylvia pressed her hand to her stomach. She was going to be sick.
Tristan hadn’t made an appearance yet. Keira preparing upstairs with her bridesmaids. Jon more than likely getting a pep talk from his best man. Sylvia chuckled softly. Some things never changed.
The pain struck her with a viciousness that made her gasp.
What did she expect? A happily-ever-after with Tristan? Sylvia moaned and clutched her ivory clutch tighter. Like hell. Damn him anyway. He had gotten what he wanted. So had she, for that matter.
She had to get the hell out of here. Soon. Now.
Sylvia backed up against the wall and closed her eyes briefly. Tempest had everything in hand. No doubt, she could single-handedly run every wedding ever planned. She had a knack for seeing what others didn’t.
“Are you okay?”
Speak of the devil. Sylvia smiled and patted her cheek. “I’m a little warm. I may be coming down with something. I believe you have everything in place.” She grabbed Tempest’s hand. “I’m going home. Please give my best to Keira and Jon.”
Tempest’s blue eyes studied her silently for a minute. “Sylvia, my dear, Ben & Jerry’s isn’t going to touch this pain. You realize that, right?” She patted Sylvia’s hand and smiled. “Aren’t you going to at least give Keira your wishes yourself?”
“I can’t.” Sylvia shook her head vehemently. “I’ve got to leave.”
Tempest leaned in and kissed her cheek. “It will be the wedding of the century.” She moved back. “And I have a gift for you, Sylvia.” She frowned. “It’s not going to be the most pleasant endowment, but you need it.” She laid her hands on both of Sylvia’s cheeks. “I give you honesty, Sylvia. A truth that can’t be denied or buried under ice cream. And the time to know that we can’t fool ourselves. No matter how much we wish it.”
Sylvia’s body infused with a warmth she had never known. Her feelings rose to the surface with a forcefulness that took her breath. It hurt. All of it hurt.
Tears sprang to her eyes. She blinked them back and looked at Tempest. “What did I say?”
“You said you must leave.” Tempest sighed. “I’ll take care of everything.” Her blue eyes saddened. “You simply take care of yourself. Please.”
Sylvia watched her assistant walk away and took a deep breath. She needed to go home. To her sanctuary. Sylvia turned on her heel and stopped in her tracks.
Tristan. God help her. His companion caused her even further heartache. A stunning brunette dressed to the nines in a designer copper dress that hugged every curve of her voluptuous body. It cut low in the front and back. Gleaming bronze skin shone under the church lights.
Tristan ducked his head low and chuckled at something his companion said. Sylvia groaned as her stomach rolled again.
She was about to turn and run for the nearest exit when Tristan lifted his head and pinned her with those brandy-colored eyes.
Shit.
Self-preservation kicked in, and Sylvia turned and strode purposefully in the opposite direction. She didn’t get far enough.
“Going somewhere?”
Damn the man and his smooth voice, anyway.
Sylvia turned with a small smile that cost her more than she would care to admit.
“I actually had plans this afternoon. Please give Keira my best.”
Tristan arched an eyebrow. “Plans? Do tell.”
She set her jaw. “Plans, Mr. Calhoun. My plans. Be kind enough to give your sister my regards.” Sylvia’s blue eyes widened as Tristan’s companion walked over to join them.
“Darling!” The cover model linked her arm in Tristan’s. “You simply left me over there by myself.” She pouted.
“My apologies, Vivica.” Tristan smiled tightly. “I needed to come over and speak with Ms. Masters a moment.”
“Sylvia Masters?” The cover model smiled and showed teeth that an orthodontist would fall down on his knees and thank God for. The woman stuck out her hand. “It’s a pleasure, Ms. Masters. I’m Vivica Chambers, a friend of the family. Your work is absolutely stunning.” She motioned around. “The colors and scheme are perfect.”
“That’s our Ms. Masters.” Tristan nodded. “Quite the perfectionist. Though I do agree that the overall effect is faultless.”
Damn Tristan to hell and back. He simply stood there looking at her while his companion cooed over the flowers and the decor. Arrogant bastard.
“I’m glad you’re enjoying the outcome, Ms. Chambers. My staff and I put in a lot of hard work to achieve something we know Keira will appreciate for a lifetime.” Sylvia nodded her head. “Now. If you’ll excuse me.”
“Not quite so fast.” Tristan’s hand shot out and closed around Sylvia’s arm. He disengaged Vivica and pushed her lightly in the direction of the open doors. “Find us a seat, Vivica. I’ll be there in just a moment.”
Vivica studied Tristan and then Sylvia. She shrugged and walked through the doors into the chapel.
“I hate you,” Sylvia bit out. Color suffused her cheeks. “You have no reason to speak to me, Mr. Calhoun. Your sister’s day will be picture perfect. I’ve left Tempest in charge. There’s no reason for me to stay.”
“Isn’t there?” Tristan’s hand stroked up and down her arm.
Sylvia removed his hand and prayed for the strength to finish the conversation. “I hardly think it prudent for you to be all over me when your date awaits you in the church. Do you?”
Tristan set his jaw. “Sylvia…” he began.
“Don’t.” She lifted her head and stared him in the eye. “There won’t be a next time, Mr. Calhoun. Just keep those models and actresses lined up. They’ll service any need you think you have. Leave me alone.”
“This isn’t over, Sylvia. Not by a long shot.” Tristan’s voice calm though his eyes were furious. “You’re running again. I should have expected it.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “It’s what you do best.” He voice as cold as the arctic. He turned and walked through the same doors that Vivica did.
Well. That was grand. Just how she hoped it would play out.
Fuck. It. All.
She owed Keira. That simple. But God, she wanted to run. To totally ignore Tristan and his date. Maybe she would just stand in the back so she could witness the blessed event. And then she could leave before another confrontation with Tristan.
Sylvia stiffened her backbone and walked behind the last pew on the bride’s side. A smile lifted her mouth. It was stunning.
Large magnolia blooms decorated the end of every pew with a lovely gold rim on each petal. Some of the centers were dyed green to match the ribbons that tied the bouquets and adorned the preacher’s podium. The preacher leaned forward and whispered something to Jon. Jon’s grin broadened, and Sylvia smiled from where she stood.
Sylvia looked down in the front on the bride’s side and noticed Tristan leaned down to say something to Vivica before he straightened and walked down the aisle to retrieve his sister.
Their eyes met for a split second, and Sylvia watched him stumble a bit before he straightened his tie and strode through the doors behind her. He turned at the last minute and gave her a small smile. And then he was gone.
Tempest came to stand beside Sylvia.
“Mr. Calhoun seemed happy to see you.”
Sylvia arched an eyebrow. “Is that your professional opinion?”
“That it would be, Ms. Masters.” Tempest patted her arm. “And I know Keira will be glad you’re here. This is your masterpiece, also. And it’s a testament to you and your business.”
Sylvia looked at the church with an impassive eye. It was. It truly conveyed both bride, groom, and their future.
A warm feeling blossomed in her chest. This is what weddings were suppos
ed to be. A merger of sorts. Two hearts committing to a life with each other. For better. For worse. Sylvia’s throat clogged, and she fought back the tears she felt just behind her eyelids. She’d never cried at one of her weddings. Not once.
The organist started the Wedding March, and everyone in the church stood. The bridesmaids were stunning in their cream-colored gowns embroidered with gold thread. Each woman wore a circlet of Celtic rings in their hair. They held their bouquets of ivory roses with emerald and gold tips. The groomsmen wore black tuxedos with emerald cummerbunds.
Jon watched each couple eagerly, but Sylvia could see that his eyes were entirely focused on the doorway where his bride-to-be would join him momentarily.
And then she was there.
Sylvia looked from Keira to Jon, and her heart skipped. Love. It filled the church and made her sigh.
Then it was time. Tristan entered with Keira’s arm tucked firmly in his. They walked down the aisle to the harmonious music emanating from the organ. Sylvia smiled sadly when the music and the couple stopped. Tristan took Keira’s arm and removed it from his. Then he gently took her hand and put it in Jon’s. He leaned forward once to say something to his sister. And then once to Jon. With his words spoken, Tristan bowed once to the preacher and sat down in the front row.
Sylvia watched the wedding while her heart burst to overflowing. It was beautiful. The bride and groom. The vows. There came sniffles from both sides as Jon lifted Keira’s veil and kissed her.
That was her cue. She had enough time to hurry out to her vehicle and leave. Sylvia massaged her temple as she stepped out of the church and toward her red Corvette. The heels would have to go. Soon. Or she wouldn’t be responsible for herself. Nope. Sylvia opened her car door with a shaking hand and slid behind the steering wheel. She kicked off the offensive pieces of footwear with a satisfied sigh. She curled her toes into the car’s carpet and blew out a breath.
What had she expected? To give herself to Tristan Calhoun and ride off with him into the sunset on his white stallion?
The laugh came out as a sob. As cynical as she thought she was, yes. Damn it, yes. That’s exactly what she thought. More the fool her. Sylvia hit the steering wheel and cursed. It would be a hell of a lot easier to drive if she didn’t have to do it through the waterworks she seemingly couldn’t control.
She’d finally snapped. It had only taken a billionaire magnate with charming words and magical hands.
Sylvia scrubbed her hands across her face one more time. All the walls. All the years. And still the tears poured.
She was breaking in half. Her heart would surely never survive the pain. Sylvia pressed her hands to her chest and bowed her head.
And then she felt herself folded into soft arms that cocooned her. Sylvia sighed and settled tighter into the warmth. There had never been any sort of comfort growing up. Mother and Father didn’t believe in displays of affection. Public or otherwise.
“You will survive, Sylvia.” Tempest smoothed back the ebony hair and clucked her tongue. “You’ve done a hell of a job so far. Raised yourself. A self-made woman. A millionaire, no less.” She chuckled. “I would never have picked a weak woman. You carry the weight of the world on your shoulders. Isn’t it about time you let a bit of it go?”
Sylvia sniffled and looked up at Tempest through swollen indigo eyes. “I’m tired.” She sighed and let her head fall back.
* * * *
Tempest sighed and eased Sylvia into her bed. It had only taken a thought to bring her mortal back home. The Corvette parked safely in the garage. She still had plenty of time to make it back to Keira’s wedding. And she would.
The great Tristan Calhoun would soon be missing a goddess-size chunk of his ass. Oh yes. Tempest’s blue eyes glowed so darkly they appeared almost black. Time to talk to the man himself.
She timed her entrance back at the wedding perfectly. Keira and Jon held court in the reception area surrounded by family and friends. Tristan brooded on the terrace on the second floor.
Tempest bit back her temper when she saw the pure misery etched on his features. Maybe the male was a bit more shook up than he had let on.
Good.
She walked up the stairs and stopped at the top to study Tristan.
He was gorgeous. That tawny hair. Those wondrous eyes. No wonder Sylvia fell for him. The intangibles had hooked her mortal. That kept Sylvia wondering about the man. What he thought. How he acted. Such a puzzling male for her mortal. Of course, Sylvia’s lack of experience didn’t lend to lengthy comparisons.
“You show remarkable restraint.” Tristan spoke without looking at her.
“Do tell.” Tempest arched an eyebrow and waited for the stubborn mortal to meet her eyes.
She didn’t have long to wait.
Those brandy-colored eyes met hers. “Not going to hit me with a bolt of lightning, are you?”
The statement startled Tempest, but she kept her composure. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” She lifted her chin. “Though I would like to smack some sense into you.”
Tristan’s lips twitched. “I’m sure you would.” He leaned in a bit and smiled. “You’re not a mere wedding planner, Tempest. What exactly are you?”
Tempest lifted her head and pinned him with her eyes. “Lightning is more Kendra’s plaything. I’m the Wind Goddess.”
“Ah.” Tristan’s gaze swept over her from head to toe.
She put her hand on her hip. “And how exactly did you know?”
“I see things.” Tristan cocked his hip on the balustrade and smiled lazily. “You have a way about you.” He motioned to her. “The feeling is rather like the one I receive from Sylvia. Stubborn. Intelligent. A little itch under my skin.”
“Tread lightly, mortal,” Tempest warned.
Tristan threw back his head and laughed. “And that, my lovely immortal, is the strongest tie of all.” He turned around and watched the trees sway lazily in the breeze. “No one ever asks how I make my decisions. How I know which stock to sell. Which building to buy.” He shot her a glance. “Which woman to date.”
“And there have been a few.” Tempest arched an eyebrow and smiled at Tristan’s chuckle.
“A few,” Tristan agreed with a shrug. “Vacuous eye candy. Women who are more pleased with a shiny bauble than hours spent feeding the homeless.” He paused. “They’re easy. So uncomplicated. So easy to please.”
“Not Sylvia.” Tempest smiled and enjoyed the man’s discomfiture. This turned out to be entirely more fun than struggling on her own.
“Not Sylvia.” Tristan sighed. He lifted his head and smiled at Tempest. “I have everything, Tempest. I don’t need anything. But I need her.”
“She struggles.” Tempest picked through her words with care.
“I know.” Tristan raked his fingers through his hair. “She struggles against herself. And that’s the hardest of all to break through.” He sighed. “I don’t have to worry about lightning bolts or Kendra, do I?” He chuckled wryly. “I seem to have a full plate as it is.”
“We Elemental Guardians work together, Tristan. We also have tasks to finish.”
Tristan rubbed his jaw. “Can you help?”
“What do you think I’ve been doing?” Tempest demanded. The wind stirred with her agitation. Tristan smiled and held up his hands. “Point taken.” His hair rippled with the breeze.
Tempest sighed and moved forward. She placed her hands on Tristan’s shoulders. “I have gifted Sylvia twice. I’m allowed no more. All I can do is guide. Give direction.” The wind picked up farther and whipped Tempest’s hair about her face. Her dark blue eyes pinned Tristan’s.
“Sylvia holds the answers deep within herself. In a place that sunlight and love have never seen. She tucks tighter within herself so none other can hurt her. But she knows not the damage she has inflicted upon herself.”
Tristan drew a shaky breath and stuffed his hands in his pockets as Tempest stepped back. “Do mortals tend to start taking medi
cation after you’ve come to town?”
Tempest arched an eyebrow. “You’re made of sterner stuff, Tristan Fleming Calhoun. This is what you excel at, isn’t it?”
Both turned at the excess of noise below them. Keira and Jon stepped out of the front doors and walked arm in arm down the stairs and to the waiting black limousine. Keira turned and looked behind her before Jon tucked her inside. Her eyes moved up and met her brother’s. She blew kisses as she ducked inside. Jon quickly followed, and the car pulled away from the curb to carry Keira and Jon to the airport and their new life.
“Isn’t it time for your happily-ever-after, Tristan?”
The words were spoken gently but with great purpose. Tristan nodded and turned back to Tempest.
A slight breeze turned into a wind gust that lifted Tempest from the patio. She wrapped her arms around herself and let the current carry her to her next destination.
* * * *
Is being tired terminal? Sylvia yawned and looked at her alarm clock with bleary eyes. She blinked twice and squinted. Ten-thirty? But it’s dark. She pushed up from her mattress and cursed softly. It’s ten-thirty in the evening.
The wedding and ensuing scene came back to her with full force, and she sank back to the bed with a groan. She had never been to a wedding that didn’t have a few bumps. But the one today was a veritable land mine. What had gotten into her? Jealousy? Hurt feelings? It was no excuse for rudeness.
She skipped out on the reception. Damn Tristan and his current eye candy. Vivica. Sylvia scowled. The name perfect for his latest tryst. The pain ebbed and flowed within her. All no more than she expected. But that didn’t make it any easier.
She was the wedding planner. Not bride material, anyway. What did it matter who Tristan brought?
Sylvia covered her eyes with her hands. It mattered. Damn it all to hell. It mattered entirely too much. Those hours she spent with Tristan felt right. And she could try to bury them, but they seemed to creep right back up into her thoughts.
Wasn’t she ever enough? The thought haunted her as she lay there. Not enough for her parents. She was a complete disappointment. It wasn’t as though they wanted grandkids. Her mother would probably stroke out. More small feet to muddy her precious kitchen. And her father would be as distant and cold to them as he had been to her.
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