“Without asking you?”
“Without asking or telling. She said that good places are often booked up years in advance and she was afraid by the time I’d made up my mind to do the sensible thing there would be nothing available.” She gave a strangled laugh. “She booked it that first night I met Richard, because we seemed to get along so well. Of course we did, because she engineered it to be like that. Now she’s facing a cancellation charge. According to her that’s my fault, too. So apparently I need to make up my mind whether there will be a reconciliation. Good job she didn’t tell me in person. Look what happened to the potato!”
He didn’t laugh. Instead he drew her closer still and held her and she stayed there, against his chest, absorbing warmth and strength. It flowed through her, filling all the empty places inside her.
She wondered how he could possibly think he wasn’t capa
ble of making someone happy.
She felt his hand stroke her hair, slow and easy, and closed her eyes. “I envy you your family.”
“They’re far from perfect.”
“They seem pretty perfect to me.”
“Mine would be booking my wedding, too, if I let them.”
If I let them.
It was like being drenched by a bucket of cold water.
“It’s my fault, isn’t it?”
“They booked a wedding you didn’t want. How can that be your fault?”
“I’ve let this happen. I’ve never set boundaries. You adore your family, but you have boundaries and you make them clear. You love them, but you’re the one running your life. I’ve let mine interfere. I’ve let them have influence.” She eased out of his arms and sat upright, forcing herself to take a good, hard look at the truth. And the truth didn’t look good. “Choosing to study art, not law, was my decision and I knew how disappointed they were so I’ve been desperate to try to please them in every other way to make up for it.”
“Why do you have to make up for a decision that felt right for you?”
“Because it wasn’t what they wanted for me.” She thought back to her mother’s cold disapproval and her father’s exasperation. That constant feeling that approval was something she had to work hard to earn, like good grades.
“What about what you wanted for you?”
“That wasn’t relevant. Despite everything I love them, and I know they love me, but I don’t feel as if they know me. They have this vision of how I should be and I never fit that vision. I really admire you.” She blurted the words out. “You have this wonderful relationship with your family, but when they try to overstep you manage to rein them in. They listen to you and respect you. Mine ignore me.”
He drew her back down to him. “So maybe you need to find a different way of getting your message across.”
“How? I don’t want to fall out with them, I really don’t. This is so pathetic.” And she hated feeling this way. “I feel like a teenager, not an adult.”
“That’s because they’re not letting you be an adult. They’re afraid you’re making a mistake and they’re trying to stop that, instead of accepting that this is your life and your choice, mistakes and all.”
“You’re right. And choosing whether or not to answer the phone isn’t enough.” She lay there, wrapped in strength and warmth. “I’m going to spend Christmas here on Puffin Island.”
He stirred. “Are you sure?”
“Yes. For once I want to be with my friends instead of a bunch of strangers. I’m going to tell my parents how I feel. Alec?” She could feel his hand in her hair as he gently massaged her scalp and knew that his pillow would be covered in long blond hairs in the morning.
“What?” His voice was rough with sleep and she nestled closer.
“I want this to be a perfect Christmas. When the storm ends, can we go and get a tree?”
She felt his fingers still.
“I don’t have many decorations.”
“I’m going over to Emily’s in a few days. I’ll make some with Lizzy. Until then I’ll scour the outdoors for inspiration.” Her eyes drifted shut. “I want to go to the forest and choose one together. Can we do that?”
She wondered if it was too much. If her request was too personal. Maybe it felt too much like she was moving into his cottage, marking it as her territory.