Marriage?
She thought about the conversations they’d had over the past year. Intimate exchanges where she’d revealed her dreams.
Had he not listened to a word she’d said?
Apparently not, or he’d know that marriage didn’t interest her.
Love? Now, that was a different matter. She wanted love. What she didn’t want was a flamboyant public proposal. He was paying more attention to the guests than her, to the point that she wanted to wave her arms in the air and yell, Hello, I’m over here!
Beyond Richard’s shoulder she could see Alec Hunter and discovered he wasn’t laughing, either. He was standing in the same place, the collar of his black coat brushing against the dark shadow of his jaw. She would have drawn him as a vampire or a wraith, she thought. A creature of the night. Even still and silent he had presence, a quality that had no doubt contributed to his success as a TV presenter and his large female fan base.
Had he proposed to his ex-wife in public?
No, because despite his public persona, she knew he was intensely private.
“Skylar?” Richard’s smile was a little tense around the edges. “We’re all waiting for a response.”
All? She wondered at what point a proposal had become a group activity.
Her real response was, You have to be kidding me, but she didn’t want that to feature in the press reports of her event the following day.
Grateful for the years of practice in producing fake smiles, she gave one.
“This is a surprise.” Keeping the smile in place, she turned to the guests. “I hope you’ll excuse us. Richard and I need a little time alone.” She turned and walked through the gallery and into the storeroom that was next to an office.
Her heels tapped on the wooden floor. Her knees shook.
She hoped he was going to follow her because she didn’t want to say what needed to be said in public.
There was a click as he closed the door behind them. “Sky? What the hell are you doing?”
“No, Richard, the question is what are you doing?”
“I was proposing. All you had to do was say yes and you would have had great media coverage for your little party. Instead you have to go for drama.” He shot her an exasperated look. “Always with you, it’s drama.”
“I—” She was speechless. “I honestly don’t know what to say.”
“The word you were looking for was yes, but you missed your cue.” He spoke through his teeth and then inhaled deeply and smiled the smile that had first attracted her attention. “You were in shock. This is a big night for you, I understand that.”
She relaxed a little. Reminded herself they’d been together a long time, and that no one was perfect. “Good, because for a moment I wasn’t sure you did.”
His phone rang. “Excuse me one second, this could be important.”
She stood, her arms wrapped round her waist, wondering what could be more important than talking about their future.
She glanced around her, trying to stay calm. The room was an Aladdin’s cave of creative endeavor. Paintings were stacked against the wall, there were several bronze figurines on a shelf and a rolled-up carpet stood next to a table stacked high with boxes.
Not the most romantic setting.
Richard checked the number and silenced the phone. “It can wait.” Sliding the phone back into his pocket, he glanced at her blankly. “Where were we?”
“You were working out whether your phone call was a higher priority than a conversation about our future,” she said flatly, “and telling me you understood that tonight was a big moment in my life.”
“Of course I understand. A marriage proposal is a big moment in every woman’s life.”
There was a ringing in her ears. “Excuse me? That’s what you consider to be my big moment?”
“Getting engaged is a big deal.”
“We’re not engaged, Richard.”
“We will be when you’ve answered my question.” He gave her his most winning smile but she felt nothing but frustration.
He wasn’t listening to her.
Apparently he’d never listened to her. He steamrollered over her in pursuit of his own goals.
He had a five-year plan and apparently she was part of it.
“I don’t remember a question. You said ‘I want you to marry me.’ Much the same way a child might say ‘I want that candy.’” Too stressed to stand still, she paced the length of the room. “In the last year, how much time do you think we’ve spent together?”
“It’s been a crazy year, I’m not denying that. Of course, we would have spent more time together if you hadn’t insisted on spending so much time in your studio and on that island. But all that’s going to change when we’re married.”
“I thought I’d made it clear that marriage isn’t on my wish list. Didn’t you hear me?”
“I heard you, but we both know you didn’t mean it. Why wouldn’t you want to get married?” There was a hint of impatience in his voice. “Your parents have been married thirty-five years and never share a cross word.”
And never a loving one, either.
Never, not once, had she seen her parents show affection.
They didn’t hold hands.
They didn’t kiss.
There were no lingering glances, no suggestion of a bond of togetherness.
She wanted so much more.
“What are you doing here? I mean, what are you really doing here?”
His smile lost some of its warmth. “I came to support you, although given the mood you’re in I’m starting to wonder why I bothered. I’m still finding my way around Capitol Hill. Coming here was the last thing I needed right now.”
“Thank you.”
“I didn’t mean—” He dragged his hand over the back of his neck. “You’re determined to misunderstand everything I say.”
“Maybe that’s because I don’t understand. You told me you weren’t coming tonight, so what changed?” When he didn’t answer, she answered for him. “You saw the guest list and thought there might be people here who could be useful to you. Be honest. Tonight was never about me.” But she’d wanted it to be. And her creative brain had spun the facts into a scenario that she could live with.
Her mother was right.
She was a stupid dreamer.
Richard met her gaze head-on. “I’m not ashamed to admit the value of networking. You want honest? I’ll give you honest. This hobby of yours is fine, but you are wasting your life. You paint pictures and make jewelry and that wouldn’t matter except that you’re smart and there are so many other more useful things you could be doing. Things that would make me proud.”
She felt dizzy. “You’re not proud of me?”
“You’re not exactly saving the planet, Sky. Even you can’t pretend that what you do is important.” With a few words he’d dismissed what she did, tossing her dreams into the trash as her father had done with her first painting all those years before.
She felt as if she had emerged from a deep sleep.
“The last necklace I made was taken from a broach