But she knew he wouldn’t understand that.
To him, money, power and influence were the important things.
He was like her parents. Which was why they got on so well.
He made a conciliatory gesture. ‘This is a pointless conversation. We need to move on.’
‘My work is not “pointless”, and by “move on” I presume you’re saying that your ambitions take precedence over mine?’
He frowned. ‘No, but you can’t argue with the fact that I’m serving a lot of people.’
‘Are you? Or are you serving yourself? Because sometimes, Richard, I wonder if this is about your ambition—not a selfless desire to dedicate your life to public service.’
His features hardened. ‘You want to talk about being selfish? What do you think your actions are doing to your parents? It’s time you stopped thinking of yourself and made them proud.’
‘Since when do my parents have anything to do with our relationship?’ A disturbing thought slid into her brain. ‘Why did you call my father?’
‘I told him I was going to ask you to marry me. They were thrilled, and they’re looking forward to celebrating when we join them on Christmas Eve.’
Was this really all about her parents?
Desperately wanting to be wrong about that, she took a step forward. ‘What if I said that this year I don’t want to spend Christmas with my parents? What if I said I wanted to spend Christmas by ourselves? Just the two of us? We could rent a little cottage on Puffin Island and spend our time playing games and chatting. Log fire, a real fir tree from the forest, walks in the snow, making love in the warm …’
She’d said it to test him, but the more she thought about it, the more she wanted it.
‘Let’s do it, Richard. Forget proposals—forget goals and careers. For once let it be the two of us and our friends. We’ll make a pact not to talk about work. Emily and Ryan are hosting Christmas at Harbor House and making it extra-special for little Lizzy. Zach and Brittany will be there too, and I’d love for us to spend more time with them. It will be perfect.’
‘Perfect?’ He looked appalled. ‘I can’t think of anything worse than Christmas on Puffin Island. What would be the point? Your parents have invited people who will be useful.’
‘The point is it’s Christmas, Richard. It isn’t a business opportunity, or an excuse to network, it’s Christmas.’
How could she have been so deluded? They’d spent a year together. A whole year. She’d believed they had a future.
‘If not Puffin Island, how about Europe? We’ve always talked about going to Paris or Florence. Let’s do it!’
‘This isn’t a good time.’
‘It’s never a good time.’
And she realised in a flash of painful clarity that she really had been fooling herself. When she cleared away the creative clouds of her imagin
ation the truth was right there, forming a stark picture.
‘When we first met I couldn’t believe how much we had in common. That first night we stayed up until four in the morning, planning a trip to Florence. Do you remember?’
He shifted. ‘Sky—’
‘It seemed almost too good to be true—to meet someone who shared your dreams so exactly. There were so many things we were going to do, and we never did any of them. It seemed too good to be true because it was.’ She swallowed, still finding it hard to look the truth in the eye. ‘My parents told you about me, didn’t they? You studied my interests so that you’d know exactly how to gain my attention.’
‘There is nothing wrong with wanting to know someone.’
‘What’s wrong,’ she said slowly, ‘is that it wasn’t genuine. Love isn’t a business deal, Richard, it’s an emotion. It isn’t about convenience or ambition—it’s about feeling. Genuine feeling. Not something manufactured for the purposes of manipulation.’
‘There you go again. You expect a fairy tale, and when you get reality you’re disappointed. It’s the same with your attitude to Christmas. You’ve always romanticised Christmas and it’s just one day.’
They were almost the same words her mother had used, and she knew it wasn’t coincidence.
The thought that they’d discussed her was horrible.