Sydney shook her head, then looked around. “Oh no. Are you setting me up for some type of reality television thing? I hope it’s not that one where you find out you’ve been dressing horribly and they buy you a whole new wardrobe.”

Morgan’s blue eyes flashed with excitement. “Nope. I’m under strict orders to send you to these places the rest of the afternoon. The appointments are already made, so don’t be late.”

Sydney glanced at the list her friend thrust in her hand. WTH? Her mouth fell open as she read it. “I don’t know what’s going on, but I can’t do this stuff today. I have to stop at the dry cleaners and make cupcakes for the PTA. Then I have to stop back at the site. Who set this up?”

The answer slammed into her as soon as she asked the question.

Tristan.

Disappointment cut deep. This must be his last-ditch effort to try to mend things. Send her to a few beauty salons and everything gets better. Unbelievable. She shook her head. “No. You can tell Tristan I’m not interested.”

Morgan leaned in, keeping her voice low. “Syd, I don’t ask you for much, do I?”

A frown creased her brow. “No.”

“Well, I’m asking now. Just do what the list says. That’s all. Do it for me.”

Her mouth fell open. “You’re on his side?”

“No. I’m on the right side. You’re going to have to trust me. Please.”

“Mama! Can I go, please?”

She stared at her friend for a while, then slowly nodded. “Okay. For you.”

Morgan gave a ladylike squeal and grabbed Becca out of the car. “Come on, sweetie, we’re going to have some fun today. I got your booster. Say bye to your mama, you’ll see her in the morning.”

Sydney kissed and hugged her daughter, then watched her disappear with Morgan across the parking lot.

Well, a promise was a promise. As ridiculous as this whole thing was, maybe Tristan needed to truly understand their relationship would never work. Not when he couldn’t give her what she needed.

Tamping down a sigh, she got in the car and drove to her first stop.

Three hours later, she realized this was on the level of Pretty Woman.

Tristan was serious.

She’d been treated to the full works at the beauty salon, including a trim, color, mani, and pedi. From there, she’d gone to the spa for a facial and mud bath thing that detoxed her skin and made her glow. The bikini wax wasn’t her favorite thing in the whole world, but she had to admit it was worth it when she saw the sleek results. Her final stop was at the department store, where she was instructed to head to the women’s department. A matronly woman named Emma fussed over her as she tried several dresses in the fitting room. Since she had no idea where she was going, she left it up to the experienced saleswoman and finally settled on an emerald-green gown with a square-cut neckline. The material shimmered, hugged her curves, and swept out in an elaborate train. The jewelry section was already prepared for her, an associate immediately clasping an elaborate diamond necklace around her neck. Of course they added the matching earrings and bracelet. Sydney was afraid she’d end up beeping past the monitors and spend the night in jail for shoplifting.

But she got through just fine.

The shoe department presented her with gold platform sandals with emeralds twisted around the ankle strap. Finally, three women pampered her by doing her makeup, giving her long lashes, a pouty lush lip, and a gorgeous green shadow dusting over her lids. When she looked in the mirror, she had been transformed into a ravishing, polished, pampered woman who looked about ready to go on a romantic date.

Wow. She gave him props for going all out, but a sadness clung to her the entire time she was getting prepped. She had to tell him tonight. They had to part ways before things became worse. It was the best thing for all of them, including Becca. Her daughter was strong and had two parents who adored her. She’d be fine with both of them working together.

When she exited the department store, a sleek black limousine was waiting for her at the curb. A driver dressed in a tux bowed and opened the door, handing her a glass of champagne.

“We’re not going to the set of The Bachelor, are we?” she called out.

“No, ma’am. Just sit back and enjoy the ride. We should arrive shortly.”

She shrugged, drank her champagne, and wondered where they were going. The opera? The ballet? When they finally pulled up to the familiar restaurant, her heart jumped.

Il Cenácolo.

It had been Diane’s favorite place: a mix of old-world food, intimate atmosphere, and elaborate gardens in the back. Patrons felt as if they’d entered Tuscany. The waitstaff was legendary, along with the restaurant’s five courses, and it took months to get a reservation. After Diane died, the family had stopped coming here for dinner. Tristan always said it was too painful and wreathed in memories.

She glanced around as she exited the limousine, noticing the parking lot was empty. The limo driver bowed, then motioned for her to climb to the top of the stone stairway. Moving carefully in her golden heels, she pushed open the double doors and stepped inside.

Then caught her breath.

Tristan stood before her dressed in a sleek black tux. He screamed of polished elegance and masculine grace. His hard, lean body was barely contained by the expensive fabric, and already her hands itched to touch him, push back his thick, wavy hair, caress his smooth, square jaw. His whiskey-gold eyes blazed across the room, stealing her breath. He’d brought his A game tonight—a game of seduction and charm. He wanted her to stay, but he still had no idea how to give her what she truly wanted.

“You look beautiful,” he said huskily.

“Thank you.” She cleared her throat, trying to make herself speak. Already her heart wept and her body ached to be close. The connection would always be there, but she’d have to learn how to deal with it. “What are you doing, Tristan?”

His smile dazzled; those straight white teeth flashed in the shadows. “What I should have done years ago.” He reached out his hand. “Will you come with me, Sydney? Just one last time?”

Cursing her weak heart, she nodded and reached out her hand.

One last time.

He led her into the main banquet room, which had been transformed. Dozens of candelabras and flowers spilled through the space, creating an intimate atmosphere that wrapped tight around them. A table with blinding-white linens and sparkling crystal was set in the center. The sensual sounds of Frank Sinatra played softly on the speakers, reminding them of love gone wrong and second chances. He pulled out her chair and invited her to sit, handing her a glass of red wine.