Page 10 of Toxic

Bridget

A Week Later

No matterhow nice it's been to see my father and brothers, I miss Sean. I'm ready to go back to Chicago and wonder why I let my father pressure me into spending the holidays in New York.

Plus, I'm still pissed that Dante kissed me.

It's the same bullshit as usual. The minute I have some chance of happiness, he tries to destroy it. And I don't believe for one minute he would mean a word he said past last night. All he would do is use me like always, destroy my relationship with Sean, then throw me back again.

All our encounter did was make me hate Dante more. It makes me feel like I cheated on Sean, even though I didn't return Dante's affection. I've gone back and forth all week, debating whether I should tell Sean or not. I'm still undecided when my phone rings from an undisclosed number.

"Hello?" I answer.

"Hey, baby." Sean's voice comes through the line, and I can feel his smile. It's loud wherever he's at, and it's only noon, but I wonder if the pub is full for the holiday.

My flutters take off. "Hi! Why isn't your number popping up?"

He chuckles. "Why don't you tell me your address, and I'll tell you in person?"

My heart stammers. "Are you serious?"

"Yep. Now tell me your address before I have to put more money into this phone."

I rattle it off then say, "I'll have my father's driver come get you."

"No, it'll take longer to see you. I'll grab a cab."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, baby. I'll see you soon."

"Bye!" I hang up, filled with excitement. I leave the living room and make my way toward my bedroom to fix myself up.

My father stops me in the hallway. "Why do you look so happy?"

"Sean's here!"

He arches his eyebrows, glancing behind me. "Oh?"

"He's at the airport and grabbing a cab."

"I see." My father clenches his jaw. He's met Sean during his trips to Chicago, but it's the same expression he always has whenever I have a boyfriend.

"Daddy, can you be nice when he gets here?"

"I'm always nice."

I put my hand on my hip and tilt my head. "Why don't you like Sean?"

My father shifts on his feet. "I never said I don't like him."

"Then what is it?"

My father studies me. "He's not good enough for you."

"That's not true!" I protest, remembering how Dante said the same thing, which only angers me further.

"It is. No one will be," my father adds.

---