Except that his actions, every damned day, contradicted his words. Crap.
“So, what did you think of The Den?” he asked in a deliberate attempt to change the subject. They hadn’t had any time to talk about her meeting the Ballantynes and how she felt about her new family. Talking about The Den, and Lachlyn’s extensive tour of the house with Jo, Linc’s mother, was his way of easing into that conversation.
“Oh, Tyce...it’s definitely the most amazing house I’ve ever seen.” Lachlyn shoved her gloved hand into the crook of his elbow and snuggled in. “There is a Picasso hanging in a small sitting room, Lalique glassware everywhere and, I swear, what I thought might be a Fabergé egg.”
Remotely possible but not likely, Tyce thought.
“You only saw the one lounge and the formal dining room but Linc and Tate mostly use a massive room that’s as normal as any I’ve seen. There were toys on the floor, drawings on the fridge. Okay, admittedly, most people don’t have purple crayons squished into Persian carpets but I liked that room. I could see that Tate and Linc lived there.”
Lachlyn continued her description of the iconic brownstone occupied by generations of Ballantynes and he let her ramble because he was interested in the house Sage grew up in. His ears pricked up at the mention of Linc’s state-of-the-art gym and climate-controlled wine cellar in the basement.
“And Sage?” Tyce asked, his heart picking up speed. “What did you think of her?”
Sage and Lachlyn were the two women who were going to be in his life for a long, long time. It was important that they liked each other. And they were also now part of the same family. That was important too.
“She’s a little prickly.” His sister frowned. “Maybe that’s not the right word... Scared? Vulnerable?”
“But do you like her?” Tyce persisted.
“Yes, I suppose I do.” Lachlyn frowned again. “We were supposed to have dinner this week but she postponed. I’ve sent her a couple of texts trying to reschedule but she’s booked up at the moment.”
Tyce frowned at the note of hurt he heard in Lachlyn’s voice. Trying to reassure her, he put his arm around her shoulder and hugged her close. “I have heard many mutterings of a picky Saudi princess who can’t make up her damn mind.”
They turned the corner onto Sage’s block and, like a homing beacon, Tyce’s eyes were drawn to a slim figure at the end of the street, wearing black pants tucked into black boots, and a scarlet coat. Sage was looking down at her phone and wasn’t paying attention to her surroundings.
Tyce nudged Lachlyn. “Sage is home early—her meeting must have been rescheduled. Let’s catch up with her.”
Lachlyn looked anxious. “Let me give her a heads-up, tell her that I’m here.”
“Nah, let’s just go,” Tyce insisted. “It’s too cold to hang around.”
Lachlyn shook her head and pulled out her phone, pressing buttons. Tyce looked down, saw that her phone was dialing Sage’s number and looked across the road. He watched Sage look down at her phone and when she grimaced, he knew that she had read the caller ID. Instead of answering Lachlyn’s call, she shoved her phone back into her coat pocket.
His temper bubbled and when he clocked Lachlyn’s miserable expression, it burned a hole in his stomach. His sister blinked away her tears and tried to smile. “Yeah, so I guess it’s me and not work that’s the problem.”
“Lach—” Tyce said, at a loss for what to say. He looked down into her bewildered face and, in that moment, his baby sister was wearing the exact expression that was a feature of her childhood spent with their mother.
I love you—what’s wrong with me that you can’t love me back? Do I make you sad? Am I the problem?
Lachlyn reached up to kiss his cheek. “It’s okay, Tyce. Maybe she’s not ready for me.” Lachlyn patted his arm. “I’ll talk to you later, okay?”
Tyce watched Lachlyn walk away, anger and disappointment rolling through him. He looked across the street, all his anger directed at Sage, who was walking, head down, toward the front door of her place. Tyce took his own phone and dialed her number...