God. Blake swallowed hard, wishin
g for another glass of champagne, anything to wash away the bitterness that consumed her. Bitterness at the loss of the one man she loved, at the way her parents treated her, at the way they expected her to behave.
She was too old for this. She’d been under their guidance too far into adulthood and their grip didn’t look like it would lessen any time soon. She needed to get away, make a stand for herself, show some independence.
But how?
A waiter approached, a handsome young man with a quick smile and friendly brown eyes. She plucked the glass from his tray and raised it to him in a silent toast. He nodded with a not so subtle wink.
Yes, indeed, already she was on the right track showcasing that independence. Getting drunk at the family holiday party and mildly flirting with the help, not that it meant anything. She’d roll her eyes at herself if she could, but she’d probably drawn too much attention. The wrong kind of attention, her mother would say.
She really needed to get out of here.
When she saw her father approach, she wanted to bolt. Drop the glass and run as far and as fast as possible, afraid of what he might say. Her mother had been enough already.
Instead, she stood straighter, smiling as he walked toward her. The look in his eyes was strangely compelling. Thoughtful.
“Are you all right?” He took both of her hands and squeezed. “Your hands are like ice.”
“It’s cold in here.” It really wasn’t that bad. She just didn’t know what else to say.
“Hmm.” He frowned. “All of these bodies crushed close together, I thought it was too warm. Did I tell you that you look lovely this evening?”
“Yes, you already did.” She dipped her head, unable to meet her father’s gaze. “Thank you.”
“Trying to catch a young man’s eye?”
Her head popped up. She noticed something in her father’s tone of voice, something she didn’t recognize. “If Mother has her way, then I guess so. But I’m not interested.”
“Really?” James Hewitt cocked a brow and squeezed her hands tighter. “You know, Blake, I’ve made a lot of mistake, but I’ve only ever wanted to ensure you were happy.”
She stayed silent, unsure how to reply.
“And I’ve had your best interests at heart, but you always seemed to find a way to defy me.”
“We shouldn’t talk about this here. It’ll upset you,” she murmured, unable to bear hearing one more word at what a disappointment she’d proven to be.
“You’re not listening to what I’m saying. I’m trying to admit I’ve been wrong.” Her head whipped up, her eyes going wide when she saw the sincere expression on his face. “You’re a grown woman, yet we treat you like a child. And we shouldn’t. You’re our only child and it’s still hard to think of you as an adult. But you’re old enough to make your own decisions, whether they be right or wrong. We should stand by and offer our support, nothing more, nothing less.”
Her mouth gaped open. What brought on her father’s dramatic change of heart? “Why are you saying this now?”
“You’ve been so miserable these last few weeks. It hurts me to see you so...sad. There’s no light inside of you, no fire. And there’s always a bit of fire in my Blake.”
Tears misted her eyes and she blinked them away. She wasn’t the same because she lost the man she loved. That would change anyone.
“I’m saying that if you want something bad enough, you should go find it.” He let her hands drop and leaned toward her, his voice lowering. “And when you find it, you shouldn’t let it go. Ever.”
Her father kissed her cheek and then walked away, leaving her shocked and dazed in the middle of the crowded family room. She stood next to a twinkling twelve-foot fully decorated Christmas tree with wobbly knees. She wished she had something to hold onto for support but would probably send the tree toppling to the floor if she tried to grab one of its overloaded branches.
She glanced about the room, looking for what, she didn’t know. Confusion flooded her and she wondered again at her father’s cryptic words. What did he refer to? And why the sudden shift in his opinion of her?
It didn’t make any sense. Unless someone had spoken to the normally impenetrable James Hewitt and convinced him she wasn’t so bad after all.
A pianist began to play a traditional Christmas carol and Blake sighed, nostalgia flooding her. The holidays were both a curse and a blessing. She loved them, but hated that she usually spent them alone.
And it looked as if she would suffer through them alone once again. If she closed her eyes tight and made a wish, would it come true? She’d played that game often when she was a child and sometimes, it had worked.
The hairs on the back of her neck prickled with awareness and she turned, scanning the many faces before her. Someone watched her, she could feel it. She started to move, her skirt flaring wide and the crowd parted for her as she moved through the room.