“Well, I don’t need help.” Christie lifted her chin, swept her gaze over them. “All you’re doing is making me feel small and plain and insignificant.”
Her mother’s eyes went wide, an odd expression crossing her face. Her father gaped like one of the slack-jawed zombies Christie liked to shoot in her games, his cheeks reddening as if he was embarrassed. Andrew scowled. He opened his mouth to speak, but Christie raised a sharp finger. “No, Andrew. I have something to say.”
Gratifyingly, her brother shut up.
“I know you’re not interested in the stuff that I am,” she went on firmly, a fierce edge entering her voice as she looked each of her family members in the eye. “I know you don’t care about it like I do. But I’m sick of feeling like I disappointed you. I’m sick of feeling like I don’t measure up. I have so many things to be proud of. And you know what? My family isn’t one of those things.” She took a breath. “I always wanted to be one of you. To feel like I fit in. But right now I’m glad I don’t. Because I’m really disappointed in you. You all kind of suck.”
Her mother had gone quite pale, while her father spluttered. Her brother looked anywhere but at her.
“Thanks for the party invite, Mum,” she continued, remaining calm, “but I won’t be coming back here again until I get an apology for the way you’ve treated me all these years.” She gripped tight to Joseph’s hand. “Come on, Joseph. I don’t think we need to stay.”
A surge of adrenaline went through her, making her want to tremble. But not from fear this time. This time it was all about satisfaction.
And as she turned and left her shocked family standing there gaping, she felt as if a weight had been lifted from her shoulders.
For the first time in years she felt free.
…
Joseph followed Christie down the expansive hallway and out onto the veranda, where there were some steps leading down to the driveway and the scent of wisteria in the air. Then he stopped and, unable to help himself, pulled her back against him.
“You,” he murmured into her ear, “were amazing.”
Because she was. Strong and calm, laying down the law. Telling her family what she thought of them and their behavior. Telling them that she was disappointed in them.
Magnificent. Absolutely bloody magnificent.
Christie turned, her cheeks pink, the sparkle of triumph in her eyes. “God, you have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to say those things.”
“So why haven’t you before?”
“Oh, because I could never seem to get them out.” She flushed. “You’ve heard me stutter, right? Well, Mum would start criticizing me and I’d try to tell her to stop, but all the words would get caught up inside my head. I’d start stammering and stuttering, being pathetic. It was easier just to ignore it and walk away.”
Joseph raised her hand, her long, slender fingers laced with his. He kissed it, smiling at her. “I don’t believe you were ever pathetic, Christie St. John.”
Christie smiled back, so warm and open his chest ached. “Not now. Thanks to you.”
“Me? I didn’t do anything.”
“But you did.” She stepped close all of a sudden and he couldn’t smell the wisteria anymore, only her. Only lavender and musk and sweetness. “You made me believe in myself. I could never have faced them if it hadn’t been for you.”
Her face glowed bright with triumph and satisfaction, and he couldn’t stop himself from cupping it in his hands, stroking her delicate jaw with his thumbs. “Yes, you could. Don’t underestimate yourself. Surely you don’t need me to tell you that?”
She smiled, then rose up on her toes, brushing her mouth with his. “You could show me though. At home.”
He had the feeling then that he’d forgotten something. Missed something. But he couldn’t immediately figure out what it was. Hard to concentrate on anything else when Christie was in his arms, kissing him as though she couldn’t get enough.
“Then let’s go,” he said, dismissing the odd feeling.
The car journey was silent. He didn’t ask which home she wanted to go to—he took her to his. The bed was bigger, for a start.
In the elevator on the way up to his apartment, he got impatient, pulling her into his arms. And she didn’t hold back, meeting his kiss with her own. A kiss that tasted of sweetness and Christie. A kiss that exploded inside him like a stick of dynamite exposed to a match.
He pushed his hands into her hair, gripped the back of her neck, and deepened the kiss, tasting the soft heat of her mouth. Her fingers curled into his shirt and he felt the pull of the fabric.