Blossom in Winter (Blossom in Winter #1)(42)

I frown, my mind still dazed and confused. Does Dad or Alex have anything to do with it? I don’t know, but one thing is for sure—I’ll figure this out at home later tonight.





At least once a week, Dad makes sure to free his agenda so he can have supper at home with me. It’s the perfect occasion to catch up, one would say, but for him, this means inquisition time to find out how I’m doing and how I’m performing at work. “How was your week at the office?” Dad starts. “Your internship is nearly over.”

“Quite good, actually,” I reply, my tone enthusiastic. “Did you know Andrew picked me to be part of his group for the conference in Rome?”

“No, I didn’t know that. But I’m not surprised.”

“Why not?”

“Well, he was only going to pick the best interns. I’d have been surprised if you were not among them.”

My face glows with a smile of joy and pride. “By the way, Mom asked if I could take a plane and go to Rotterdam after Rome. Is it alright if I spend the weekend there?”

“Sure. I’ll ask my assistant to book you one for Rotterdam and another back to New York on September second. Don’t forget the fourth is your first day at Columbia.”

“Thank you, Dad.”

We continue to enjoy our supper in silence, but I keep playing with my food thoughtfully.

“What’s going on in that mind of yours, Petra?”

I pretend I didn’t hear him and continue twirling my pasta for a few more seconds, until my curiosity takes over. “Dad, I need to know the truth.”

He raises an eyebrow suspiciously. “About what?”

But I don’t reply immediately. I’m still pondering if I should go ahead…

C’mon, Petra. Ask him.

Indeed, after so many weeks thinking about it, it’s time to gain some courage. I take a deep breath, and, for better or for worse, I jump right in. “About why Alexander stopped visiting me when I was seven. And please, no lies.” I pause. “I know he came to New York many times.”

Dad doesn’t seem surprised. He probably knew it was just a matter of time until I’d ask him about it. “I see.” He puts his cutlery down. Then he wipes his mouth, staring off, trying to find the best words. “Very well. Let’s just say you were slightly… too attached to him.”

With a furrowed brow, I ask, “What does that even mean? He is my godfather. I considered him my best friend.”

Dad leans back and exhales loudly. Despite it being ten years ago, he doesn’t seem to be as comfortable as he might have expected. “Petra”—his tone sounds heavier than usual—“are you sure you want to know about this?”

Damn, I’m getting anxious. Is it that bad? “Yes. Tell me.” I feel my heart pounding so fast and so hard that it’s wounding my chest. I’m not sure if I can handle the truth, but I want to hear it. I have to hear it.

“Well,” he starts cautiously, “when your godfather brought Amanda for supper here the very first time, you were not happy, to say the least. In fact, throughout the whole dinner, you looked quite upset. Alex asked you why and you ran to sit on his lap and told him out loud in front of all our guests that he…” Dad takes a deep breath but remains silent. It seems quite painful to remember. My heart keeps thundering as I look at him searching for words. “That he couldn’t love or marry anyone but you,” he spits out.

My jaw drops to the floor.

“Oh, and you also said Amanda, his dear girlfriend, was a witch. All of that in front of ten guests! Everyone stared at him, wondering what he had done for you to say such things. The poor guy felt so embarrassed. He’d always been nothing but kind and supportive, treating you like his own daughter, teaching you how to ride horses, how to paint, how to ski, and this is how you thanked him? Humiliating him in front of his friends and girlfriend?” he shouts, enraged at the simple memory of it. “Anyway, I took you to the pediatrician, and the doctor told me young children can develop deep affections and emotions toward adults. So, Alex and I decided the best way to handle this would be for him to keep his distance from you.”

Now it’s my heart that falls on the floor.

“Dad, I was only seven! How could you take this so seriously?”

“Petra, did you imagine the consequences of your words? It could’ve seriously damaged his reputation and our company. This is New York. People make up stories based on anything. It was in the best interest of everyone,” he snarls.

Breathing feels so hard. I’ve spent a considerable amount of time wondering why Alex had left, blaming him for his absence, but the ugly truth is now right here in front of me. I had been the embarrassment, the one to blame, not him. “I can’t believe this…”

“Oh really? Do you remember the first painting you did?”

“Yes.”

“Do you recall what you painted?”

“No. I don’t think so.”

“Well, you should go to your atelier and find out. You’ll see why I never gave your ‘gift’ to him. I know you’ll understand. It was painful but necessary. You had caused enough trouble for your godfather and his girlfriend.”

“I’m not gonna check.” My tone remains low and broken, my mind still in shock. “I feel humiliated and embarrassed enough. I’m… I’m so sorry to have brought up this conversation, Dad.” I let out a sigh. “I won’t do it again.”