Page 40 of Marrying the Billionaire Single Dad
He reads the screen and his eyebrows rise. "You wrote this?" He glances up at me.
"Nope." I glower at the Father. "It’s. Not. Mine."
"Oh?" Edward scans it, "Where did you find these lyrics, they’re…"
I set my jaw. If he makes fun of them, I am going to—
"They’re not bad." The Father tilts his head.
"Not bad?" I splutter.
"They’re very good, actually." He chuckles.
"They are?" I stiffen. "Is that good good, or bad good?"
"It’s bad good, which makes it good good…" Edward tosses the phone back at me. "In fact, it’s so good, it makes me wonder what prompted you to write it."
I glower at him.
"Not that you wrote it," he placates me.
Bastard.
"But if you had written it," Arpad picks up the narrative, clever bugger that he is. He raises an appraising eyebrow. "I’d wonder, what sparked it."
The back of my neck heats. Shit, no way. Now I am embarrassed when my asshole friends compliment me on my words. Like I am in kindergarten or something. I glance away, then back at them. "Nothing… Everything…" I raise my shoulders, pocket the phone. "Does it matter how it happened?" I mumble.
"Something prompts you to break your creative block?" Edward surveys my features, "Yeah, I’d think it’s significant."
"It’s her, isn’t it?" Arpad drawls. "She inspired the ol' muse, I take it?"
"Who are you talking about?" I narrow my gaze. "And that's none of your business."
"You know who I’m talking about," Arpad barks a laugh, "and going by your touchy reaction, I take it I was right?"
I glower at him.
"Thought so." He nods, "You going to keep her around a while longer then?"
"Maybe..."
"You come to some kind of an arrangement with her yet?"
"Why does it have to be an arrangement?" I snap. "Why couldn’t it be a normal relationship?"
"You and normal?" He chuckles, "Hello, you are one of the Seven. Have we ever done anything in the normal way?"
He has a point there.
"So," the asshole persists, "it is an arrangement?"
"It’s notnotan arrangement," I finally concede.
"Good grief, you’re resorting to hiding behind wordplay. Thought you saved that for the stage." Arpad chuckles. "Clearly, the situation is far worse than it seems."
"Oh, fuck off." I crack my neck. "I got inspired, I wrote a few words. Big fucking deal."
"It is, though." Edward walks toward me. His features wear an almost understanding look… Which I’d hate on anyone else, but this is Edward. The one of us Seven to have suffered the most from the incident. No wonder it turned him off life, in general… Though he’d deny it, of course. For him, the church is his calling, serving God is his passion, which is noble of him, of course. If only I didn’t get the sense that he is avoiding the real issues at hand. Not that this is the time to tell him, not when I am facing a crisis of my own. And is that what this is, a crisis?
