course. It’s all a part of my job of being happy while presenting the ladylike image that’s so important to supporting your father’s career. And don’t you forget, this information is classified, young lady, and disseminated only on a need-to-know basis.”
Alexia laughed until tears trickled down her cheeks. Her mother, watching with a bright smile, reached over to tuck a curl behind her ear, letting her fingers smooth her daughter’s cheek as she did.
Smiling, Alexia was pretty sure this was the closest, the happiest, she’d ever been with her mother.
“Why didn’t you ever share any of this with me before?” she asked.
“You never wanted to hear it before, darling. You were too busy rebelling and finding your own way.” Margaret patted her daughter’s knee, then rose. “And you do have a habit of holding on to anger, Alexia. Long after a battle has ended, you’re still there in the trenches, ready to aim and fire again. Which makes communication rather difficult.”
Well, there you go. Alexia’s shoulders sank under the weight of that truth. Her parents weren’t perfect. Nor was she so overwhelmed by the emotions of her ordeal into thinking they were even great. They were self-absorbed, stubborn, close-minded and ambitious.
But, she realized, so was she.
“Mother, is it okay if I stay here again tonight?”
“I’d love it if you did,” Margaret said. Then her smile dimmed a little. “But we do have company coming for dinner. You’re free to join us, or if you’re still feeling melancholy, you can take your meal in your room.”
“I’ll join you,” Alexia decided, surprising them both. Hey, maybe a meal where she wasn’t holding on to anger would be interesting.
“I’ll let the cook know,” Margaret said, her eyes bright again.
She left with a quick wave of her fingers. Alexia heard her in the hallway, then her father’s deeper tones. He was home from the base. Other than his insistence on being there for the debriefing—which she’d thought was to make sure she didn’t embarrass him but now wondered if it was for support—she hadn’t seen him since their return from the North Slope. And even that she didn’t remember much of. After ten silent, miserable minutes in the Snow Trac trying not to cry, she’d fallen asleep only to wake on an aircraft carrier just before it set down in Coronado.
Should she go talk with him?
Try to discover if there might be a bridge between them like the one she’d found with her mother?
Ask if he had news of Blake and whether or not the team was back yet?
Double-check to see if she’d drooled all over the cot in his aircraft carrier?
She should.
If she wanted an open dialogue and communication between them, it was up to her to take the first step.
And maybe her mother had a point. Maybe she did hold on to anger, creating walls where there didn’t need to be any.
Then again, what if all he wanted to do was lecture her? Or chide her on her career choices? Or any number of other negative things.
Things had always been cut-and-dried between them—her father was the jerk, she was the poor, misunderstood and unappreciated daughter. He was rigid, she was strong. He was wrong, she was right. Simple as that.
Now she didn’t know. Wasn’t sure.
“Who’s in the mood for cinnamon buns?”
Saved from talking herself into approaching her father, Alexia gratefully looked up to see her brother standing in the doorway, a white, aromatic bag in hand.
“Michael,” she greeted, rising to give him a tight hug. “Are you here again? I thought you had a show today.”
“Show, shmow. I took a little personal time. It’s not every year that my sister scares the crap out of me, after all.”
“That seems to be today’s theme,” Alexia said, taking the bag even though she wasn’t hungry. At this rate, she’d be ten pounds overweight before she ever made it home.
“Are you okay?” Michael asked, pulling a chair over and straddling it. “What scared you? Flashbacks? Nightmares? Split ends?”
Alexia’s lips quirked. She pulled a piece off the bun, but didn’t eat it. “Mother said she was scared. When I was gone, she said you all were. I mean, I knew you would be. But I didn’t even consider that they would.”
“She was pretty freaked,” Michael said. “And yeah, I’d have to say Father was, too. He cussed up a storm, threw a few things and ordered me to stay here and take care of Mom while he dealt with this mess.”
Alexia’s lips twitched. “This mess?”
“Yeah. But he didn’t mean you for once,” Michael teased with a wink. “He was talking about the Science Institute. Dr. Darling was being a total ass about the rescue, wanting to do some CYA before bringing in the authorities. He didn’t want the news leaking before he’d talked to the investors.”
CYA. Covering his ass, indeed.
“That Edward sure is a peach,” she said sardonically. She wasn’t surprised, though. He’d been in contact with the terrorist for almost a year and hadn’t caught on that the guy was a murdering lunatic. If that got out, he wasn’t going to look so good. And bad press could slam the door shut on the flow of money to the institute. But still, the man had claimed they were perfect for each other. Maybe he’d have been in a bigger rush to rescue her if she’d slept with him.
As if reading her mind, Michael nudged her shoulder with his. “Good thing you didn’t date the guy, hmm? I mean, what a wank.”
She made a sound of agreement, staring out the window again. She’d thought Edward’s only drawback was that he didn’t turn her on. But it looked as if all the communication skills in the world didn’t make a guy a hero.
“Are you staying for dinner?” she asked.
“Are you?”
“Sure. Mother said there would be guests. But you can sit next to me and keep me entertained.”
And distracted. Because all this self-reflection was really messing with her resolve to accept that things were over with Blake.
Of course, resolve or not, it didn’t really matter.
He was the one who wanted nothing to do with her.
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