Page 51 of Snowed In with My Best Friend's Dad
18
Miranda
Iwas in my room studying when the knock came on the door. It had to be my dad being escorted home by his bar buddies and unable to find his key. But when I opened the door, Brett stood on my doorstep. At first sight, my heart squeezed hard in my chest. He looked like a fairy tale hero in a tuxedo. But when I studied his face, I saw rage in his glassy eyes. Had he been drinking?
"Are you a gold digger or just a fucking liar?”
His words struck me just as surely as if he'd used his fist. I tensed, stepping back, wanting to shut the door and lock him out. It was clear that Lindsay had told him I was pregnant, but I really thought he'd be relieved. He had to have done the math and determined the child wasn't his.
His eyes, as dazed as they appeared, took a long inventory of me, and when he was finally looking at my face again, he said, "You look like hell. Aren’t pregnant women supposed to glow?"
"Mr. Hyde, I presume," I murmured. This had to be the real Brett. I feel like I saw more of this side of him than the sweet side I’d fallen for.
"Oh, no. You don't get to make me out to be the bad guy here. What game are you playing? Not just with me but with Lindsay as well?"
"No game."
"Did you take everything I taught you about fucking and now you're sharing with other men?"
I swallowed, knowing that if I were to keep my secret, I'd have to lie, but I found it difficult to do so to his face.
"Are you a gold digger? Did you see your friend’s wealthy single father and think maybe you can get some of that?"
I tried to glare at him in indignation, but all the while, my emotions ran from hurt to fear. He was angry at me, and if he found out the truth about the baby, would he take it from me? Just like he'd taken Lindsay from her mother?
Somehow, I found my voice. "There's no winning with you. You're angry either way.” I shook my head. "If you weren't so self-centered and you took the time to know me and assess the situation, you would know the truth. And who are you to be lecturing me on sleeping with someone else, anyway? How many plastics have you been with since New Year’s?"
His face contorted. "None. And that’s your fucking fault."
I wondered what that meant.
Several lights from homes on the street flipped on, a sure sign the neighbors were hearing Brett's diatribe. I didn't want my neighbors to know about my business, but neither did I want to invite Brett into the house. Thank God my father had gone to the bar with his friends. Who knew what he would've tried to do to Brett.
"Are you drunk?" I asked.
"Yes, and that’s your fault too. Every fucked up thing that has happened since I met you is your fault. You think you have some hold on me, don't you? Like you’re some fucking femme fatale. You’re subtle, I'll give you that."
The breath stalled in my chest as I realized what he was saying. He thought that I had set him up. That I was a gold digger. He was basically calling me a whore. "You have a terrible memory, Brett,” I managed to say. I wasn't sure if my voice quavered, but the rest of me was definitely shaking.
He shook his head. "Oh, no, I see quite clearly now. You knew I’d go to that paper shop before Christmas and knew my reputation with women."
"Plastic women, Brett. Not women like me."
He sneered as his gaze scraped over me again. "You're right. You're not my type. But you worked that wide-eyed, innocent schoolgirl charm on me. When did you know that Lindsay wasn’t going to come to the cabin? I bet it was before you left Boston. But you came so you could be alone with me."
"What do you want, Brett?" There was no use arguing. I knew there was no changing his mind, especially when he was in one of his moods.
"I want you out of my fucking head."
“If that’s true, why are you on my porch? I did what you asked. I’ve stayed away from you. You’re the one stalking me.”
He jerked. “I’m not stalking you. I don’t need to stalk women to get them in my bed.”
I closed my eyes, hating that sex was all he saw in me. In all women, really. “Then why are you here?”
“I don’t like to be played or lied to. I want you out of my life.”
"Well, then, let me give you some advice. It's the same advice you gave me on New Year's. Stay the fuck away from me." I slammed the door, flipping all the bolts and locks, then sagged against it, sliding to the floor as the endorphins crashed through me. I shook from the pain of his words, from the things that he thought of me, and the things he could still do to me if he found out the truth.
