The scraping of furniture filled the room a second before Carrie enveloped her in a warm hug.
“I don’t hate you,” Sienna said, the words muffled against Carrie’s soft shoulder.
This is why I didn’t tell you, though. I didn’t want this pity.
“I’m sorry.” Carrie stepped out of the hug to wipe at Sienna’s drying tears.
“That’s okay. It was a while ago, and I’ve got other things to deal with now.” She chuckled, a wry sound that lacked any sign of humor. “Like trying to sort Zach out.”
Normally, any mention of Zach would distract Carrie and activate her maternal instinct. She’d offer tips and advice on how to handle the problem fifteen-year-old. Why the hell Carrie thought she had all the answers, Sienna didn’t know. It wasn’t like she had children. Still, Sienna liked having someone she could talk out her daily Zach woes with. It made life a little easier.
Carrie frowned at her. Clearly, the distraction wasn’t working this time. Damn it. “Wait a minute. You still haven’t explained why James Dyson was just here, talking about you and destiny and sex. Great sex, I’ll add.”
Sienna shrugged. “I have no idea. Honest. After that one brief moment of flirting, I’ve only seen him that time at the funeral, and we definitely weren’t civil to each other then. The man hates me.” She didn’t mention the incredible wild kiss they’d shared. And there was no way she was telling Carrie about the shameless, horny way she’d succumbed to it. Or that she was meant to be painting his portrait for Mason Xavier. As if that was going to happen.
“But, Si?” Carrie smiled, confusion warring with mischief in her eyes. “Great sex. He pretty much implied you two were going to have great—”
The studio door banged open, cutting off Carrie’s words.
“School sucks.”
Sienna’s stomach sank.
Zach raged through the room like a thunderstorm, tossing his backpack onto the floor with careless rage before stomping into the kitchen area. He didn’t once look at either Sienna or Carrie.
“Hi, Zach,” Carrie called. She’d always been one for poking the bear.
Zach grunted, reaching into the ancient refrigerator and removing a Coke. “Got any Scotch?”
Sienna glared at his back. “Yeah, like that’s going to happen.”
Zach leaned against the fridge and cast a surly look around the studio. “No naked people here today?”
“You should have been here five minutes ago.” Carrie wriggled her eyebrows. “You just missed Taylor Swift.”
“Ha ha. Very funny.” Zach gulped a few mouthfuls of soda down and then swiped at his lips with the back of his hand. “Any chance of seeing you naked today, Carrie?”
“Okay.” Sienna smacked her palms together. God, she was tired of being angry. “That’s enough, Zach. Stop being a dick and apologize to Carrie.”
Green eyes so like hers grew wide with the wounded innocence of a serial killer. “What did I do?”
“Oh, I wonder.” She crossed her arms, eyes narrow. “Let’s ignore the fact you’ve been expelled from school and focus on what you just said to Carrie, shall we?”
Zach’s face turned bright red. He glared at her for a long moment before dropping his eyes to the can in his hand. “Mr. Fenchurch rang, ’eh?”
“Yes, Mr. Fenchurch did ring, ’eh. And just out of interest, why did you tell him I was posing for Playboy?”
Carrie choked on a laugh, the soft sound carrying around the studio. Sienna shot her a look, her own lips twitching with mirth. Yeah, the day couldn’t get much more surreal.
Zach looked up from his Coke. “Dunno.” Sullen eyes challenged her. “So what are you going to do? Tell me to go to my room? I don’t have one, remember? The court took it away, along with everything else I own.” He snapped his fingers, an expression of profound realization on his young face. “I know. Why don’t you deal with it the same way you did Dad leaving your mum? Why don’t you just run away?”
Carrie gasped. “Zachary.”
“It’s okay, Carrie.” Sienna shook her head, attention locked on Zach. “Zachary, I think you should go take a shower or something. Cool down a bit before dinner. We’ve got some talking to do, and I’m fed up fighting with you every time I open my mouth. I know you hate being here, but unfortunately, until Dad’s appeal is granted, or he finishes his time”—she checked her watch—“four years and seven months from now, you’re stuck with me. Court’s orders.”