Page 62 of Big Daddy

It was a long night finishing my project, and a longer night in Big Daddy’s arms. I’m exhausted, and managed to come over in shit I threw on after waking up at Quincey’s—a t-shirt, messy bun and sweats. Despite the fact I’ve seen Lance before, he’s never seen me. And this is not how I envisioned looking. Right now, though, nothing matters but Brielle.

“W-Winnie,” I stammer through my name, my eyes glued to him, waiting for a reaction. Waiting for his face to tell me all the things Brielle’s told him in the last few days.

“You’re not a very good best friend considering you told your friend’s father about her love life then stopped communicating with her,” he says, the flex in his jaw giving way to just how angry he is at me. On her behalf—that’s the scariest part, because she doesn’t even know the biggest, worst offense. Not yet.

I reach for my best friend’s hand, but Lance prevents me from touching her. “Don’t upset her before her ceremony, please. If you want to talk, she lives here, which you clearly know.”

She lives here. I mean, I knew she’d been staying here but she moved in? I didn’t know that. We’ve only not spoken for three days. But then… I guess I’ve been quiet lately. She tried to ask me if I was okay, she tried to talk. I blew her off because I’ve been deceptive. The last time Brielle and Itrulytalked was… weeks ago. I press a hand to my stomach as the world around me spins, Lance’s eyes narrowed, his attention making me sweat.

Lance moves to close the door in my face, and I catch Brielle’s eyes skimming over me, taking in my messy state and watery eyes. “Wait!” she shouts, outstretching a hand onto the door before it’s fully closed. She pushes it open and steps on the cement, her heels sinking into the WELCOME doormat.

She looks at my chest and up at me. “Where did you get that t-shirt?”

I don’t even know what I’m wearing. My sweats, I grabbed those, and the old Sierra Nevada brewery shirt I wore to Big Daddy’s. But hurt lines Brielle’s eyes, and her confused, pained expression has me looking down at my t-shirt.

I didn’t grab the shirt I wore over.

I accidentally grabbed one of Big Daddy’s shirts.

WHARTON arches over my breasts and panic seizes me, stealing air from my lungs, replacing my blood with a stir of nerves in my veins. Oh my god. Oh my fucking god. We were gonna tell her together. We were gonna wait. We were… fuck.

“Oh my god,” Brielle breathes, staring at the worn college letters. “Big Daddy,” she says, repeating the nickname I gave her father in jest years ago.

“I never meant for it to happen,” I hear myself saying, the edges of my vision darkening with my impending panic. Myhands fly to my hair, then the edges of the t-shirt, yet my eyes are unmoving on my heartbroken friend.

“You wore that here on purpose, to rub salt in the wound? That you didn’t just tell him my secrets but that you fucked him, too?” Brielle hisses as Augustus appears in the doorframe, a litany of his own reactions filling the air. He collects Brielle in his arms as Lance becomes the barrier between me and my best friend.

“We’re having dinner after the program tonight. A late dinner. Nine o’clock at Bella Cucina. Meet us there, preferably in clothing that doesn’t belong to Quincey Parker.”

The door closes and I’m left with my decisions and tears, and what feels like only a moment later, a phone call from Big Daddy.

“Just listen, okay? We’re going to do this sooner than we planned but it’s better this way, okay?” he says, his voice smooth and soft as I walk back to my car and climb inside. “I talked to Augustus. He and Lance are going to give us an opportunity tonight to explain things. After the ceremony, at dinner.”

“Okay,” I sniffle. “But if she doesn’t want you and I to be together, I’m gonna leave, Quincey. I can’t come between you two. You’re her father. If she doesn’t come around, I’m leaving.”

“You will do no such fucking thing, Winnie! We will go to dinner and we will figure it out. Now, I have to go to this ceremony. I’ll pick you up at 8.”

I nibble my lip as tears well in my eyes, the streetlight becoming a salty blur. “Okay.”

“Winnie,” he says, tenderness lining his tone. “I’ll take care of you. I’ll take care of this.”

“You can’t make her forgive us,” I sob before ending the call and letting myself ugly cry in my car for three full songs. Then I go to my shitty apartment and ice my cheeks and drink some water, trying to calm myself down. Because if I only get one shotto explain myself to my best friend later tonight, I’m gonna make it a good one.

I wish no one had to choose, but if someone does, I will. I’ll choose to leave, because I’m removable and they aren’t.

chapter twenty-one

winnie

“I’m trying!”I cry, blotting the bath towel beneath my nose.

Dante rubs a hand up and down my back as a large thudding comes down on our front door. He leaves me to let Quincey in, and while I never wanted him to see my apartment, I have no energy to preserve my ego.

“She’s been crying since she came home,” Dante tells Big Daddy as he filters into the small bedroom, immediately sitting next to me and pulling me into his lap. I loop my arms around his neck and bury my face in his chest, his strong thighs cradling my backside, immediately easing some of my anxiety just being with him this way.

“Home,” Big Daddy snorts. “This isn’t her home. She belongs with me.”

I don’t have the energy to fight it. I don’t say no. I spent the night with him last night and even in my turmoil—inourturmoil—still, I felt safe and loved. I never knew how much I craved that feeling, and I hate that it’s come at such a huge cost, but still, I won’t throw it away.

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