Page 140 of Merry Me
But his silence was loud. Final. Like a slammed door.
Terry must’ve felt it, too, because the sympathy-drip dried up fast. He pivoted so fast it gave me secondhand whiplash.
“I mean…” His eyes flicked toward Brittany, and suddenly his voice turned slick again. “Look, I’ve got three beautiful girls. Natalie’s always been a little…prickly. High-strung. Never did know how to relax.”
I would have snorted if the situation wasn’t so surreal…because how the fuck would he know what I’d always been like?
Terry smiled like that was an endearing quirk. Like he hadn’t just dismissed every wound I wore as a personality flaw.
“But this one,” he said, motioning lazily to Brittany like she was a car he was trying to unload. “She’s fun. Real easy to be around. Wouldn’t give you any trouble.”
Brittany didn’t blink. She didn’t look confused or insulted. She smiled like the world owed her something and she’d finally found the cashier.
And then she arched her back—pushed out her chest like she was on a reality show, and the rose ceremony was about to begin.
I gagged a little in my throat. I didn’t mean to. But it was either that or let my stomach heave up the steak dinner I’d managed to choke down earlier.
Which was not something these people deserved.
“She could keep you company tonight,” Terry added, the words dripping out like oil. “Make the money worth your while.”
My heart didn’t just drop. It detonated.
Every molecule in my body stilled. Froze. Burned.
I couldn’t hear anything—not the music, not the distant clink of silverware, not even my own pulse. Just a high-pitched, white-hot static ofAre you fucking kidding me?
This man—the man who had shown up out of nowhereclaiming he wanted tofixthings—wasn’t here for closure or forgiveness.
He was here to barter. To beg. To sell.
Had he really just asked myboyfriendfor a loan while pimping out his other daughter like some blackjack table bonus?
Was this his idea ofrebuilding a relationship?
I felt something hot and acidic surge in my throat. I wasn’t sad. I wasn’t hurt.
I wasfurious.
The kind of fury that came from every scraped knee he never kissed, every birthday he missed, every night I stared at the door wondering if maybe—maybe—he’d show up this time.
I wanted to scream. I wanted to claw the smirk off his face and throw Brittany’s six-hundred-dollar shoes into the nearest punch bowl.
Easton’s voice cut through the quiet like a blade wrapped in thunder.
“You should walk away. Right now.”
“Come on,” Terry chuckled, but it was dry, brittle. The kind of laugh people fake when they’ve just been caught stealing from the offering plate. “You’re acting like I offended you.”
Easton stepped forward, the air around him suddenly ten degrees colder. “You did. Not for my own sake…I’ve had people try to con money out of me since the moment my face hit a billboard. But you just insulted your daughter. The woman I love. The woman I’m going to marry as soon as I can convince her.”
I don’t know what stunned me more, how calm he sounded, or how much it shook me.
As soon as I can convince her.
Something hot and fizzy lit up inside me, as if a soda can had exploded beneath my ribs.
But I didn’t pause to savor it, I couldn’t. Not with what I was hearing.
