Page 48 of Snowed In with My Best Friend's Dad

"What won't I believe?"

"Mira is pregnant."

My hand shot out against the wall of the building, bracing myself as a wave of nausea threatened to consume me. Jesus fuck.

"I don't completely understand why being pregnant made her feel she had to totally end our friendship, but it is why she moved home and is now taking online classes. I feel terrible, though, because I should've noticed that something was wrong."

I remembered Lindsay telling me that Miranda had been sick on New Year's Eve. Surely, that had been too early to know if she was pregnant. But what other explanation was there? And holy hell, I’d fucked her and then berated her that night.

"Dad? Are you there?"

"Yes, honey, I'm here." I scanned my brain for what the next logical question should be. What I wanted to ask was who was the father, but a decent person would ask how she was. "How is she doing?"

"She seems alright, although I guess it's still early because she's not showing. She says she's only about six weeks pregnant. But in true Mira fashion, she's gone into full planning mode and is finishing school and working in tutoring and doing her student teaching and—"

"She's keeping the child?"

"Yes. I don't really know what the deal with the baby’s daddy is. Her dad seems to think that she isn't sure either, which is weird. Mira isn't really a hookup kind of girl. I totally thought she was a virgin."

The length of Miranda's pregnancy finally sank into my brain, and doing the mental math, I realized I couldn't be the father. Relief started to settle in until I realized that meant Miranda had slept with somebody else. The jealousy flared deep in my gut. It made no sense how angry that made me. This woman had an unhealthy hold over me in that I would be more upset to learn she'd slept with somebody else since me than worried about knocking her up.

"Anyway, I just wanted to tell you that all is well. And from now on, I'm going to try and be a better friend to her."

"That’s good to know," I said absently.

"Are you alright? Where are you?"

"I’m at a charity event."

"At the gallery? I was thinking of going to that, but Liam and I are going to see a movie instead."

I frowned. Lindsay loved art, and the fact that she would give up something like this to go see a movie with her boyfriend bothered me. I didn’t want her to give up her goals and dreams for a boy.

But she had to live her life. I suppose I needed to be grateful she wasn't pregnant. Jesus fuck. I was a nearly forty-two-year-old man who fucked a twenty-one-year-old girl and possibility got her pregnant. Was I really that guy? Well, no. I wasn’t the father.

When I got off the phone with Lindsay, I considered going home, but then I caught sight of the open bar in the gallery. I went inside, making a beeline to it. "Double scotch. Neat."

A moment later, I downed the scotch, feeling it burn through my gut. Unfortunately, it did nothing to quell the insane jealousy brewing there.

"There you are." Dunk stepped up next to me. He glanced at my empty glass and at me. "Something wrong?"

I shook my head and rolled my shoulders, as if that would get rid of the torrent of emotions swirling through me. "Everything's fine." I spoke in a clipped voice as I scanned the room. My gaze stopped on Naomi. Naomi somebody. I couldn't remember her last name, but eight or ten months ago, she'd been a good fuck when I was at another charity event. I waited for the bartender to pour me another drink and then I picked it up and made a beeline to her.

When she saw me, she smiled knowingly. This was exactly the woman for me. Long, blonde hair that was probably extensions, but if I didn't tug too hard, they would pass for real. Large, round, firm, fuckable tits, also not real. An ass my hands could grip as I pumped deep inside her. And when it was done, I could leave and nothing about her would haunt my mind.

"Hey, Brett," she cooed, sidling up next to me.

"Naomi." I noticed she didn't have a drink. "Can I get you something?"

She gave me a smile that told me she knew exactly what I was after and was going to be more than willing to give it. She took my drink and with a sensuous smile brought it to her lips. "I'll just have a little of yours."

She coughed, and I probably should have warned her that there was no mixer in the drink. But she recovered. "You like them stiff, don't you?"

I slid my hand over her ass. "If I remember correctly, you do too." She turned her body into mine, pressing close, closer than was acceptable in public. It should have been exciting, erotic. I had a ready, willing, and able woman with a body made for fucking grinding against me. My dick wasn’t interested. The little bastard didn’t even twitch.

I took my drink back and downed it, thinking maybe I needed to calm down and then my dick could get into the mood. "I need to look at some art first."

She nodded. “Of course."

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