Page 43 of Hate to Love You
Unaware of the thoughts rampaging through my brain, Bridgette flashes a big, toothy smile at me. I hate her instantly. All the anger I’ve felt over the last nine months roars to life again. The sight of her is like waving a red flag in front of a bull.
“I’m so glad you and your dad were able to get together and work this out.” She leans toward me, and I’m half afraid she’s going to grab hold of my hand. “He’s missed you so much. He talks nonstop about you.”
Realizing that I’m clutching my fork in a death grip, I carefully set it on my plate and inhale a deep breath, hoping it will calm me. It doesn’t.
“Bridgette, is it?” And yes, I damn well know that’s her name. It is, unfortunately, singed into my brain for all eternity.
The happiness on her face falters. She nods, and the smile dims in wattage.
I angle my body toward her and say, “I agreed to meet with my dad and talk to him. I have zero interest in talking with the woman who destroyed my parents’ marriage.”
Her eyes widen before darting to my father as if she’s unsure what to do or say. Which is hilarious. Come on, girlfriend…What’d you expect was going to happen? That you’d waltz in here and the three of us would join hands and sing “Kumbaya”?
Over my dead and decomposed body.
“Natalie!” Dad says sharply.
Glaring at him, I jerk my thumb toward Bridgette, who is squirming silently on her chair. “Why is she here?”
My father looks thrown by the question. He falters before finding his footing. “I thought it was important for you to meet Bridgette.” There’s a pause as I wait for the other shoe to drop. “We’re getting married.”
And there it is.
My mouth falls open. “Are you kidding? Please tell me you’re kidding. You can’t marry her!” I shake my head, trying to wrap my mind around his words and what they mean. “Oh my God, how old is she?”
Bridgette’s face turns a dull red. She looks like she wants to sink right into her chair.
Good. I hope she’s humiliated. She deserves it, the homewrecking little slut.
My father pokers up in his chair, his face turning stern. He used to trot out that expression when I was a kid and had done something wrong. Ironic that he’s now the one doing something wrong and trying to give it to me.
I don’t think so, buddy.
“It doesn’t matter what her age is,” he says calmly. “What matters is how we feel for one another.”
“You can’t be serious.” Turning toward the interloper, I narrow my eyes. “Are you even thirty?”
Her cheeks pinken even more until she looks as though she’s moments away from bursting into flames. I’d rejoice if that were to happen.
“Natalie, I’m appalled by your behavior. I think you owe Bridgette an apology. Maybe we shouldn’t have sprung this on you, but I wanted everything out in the open so we could move forward.”
For the first time since my dad’s fiancée sat down at the table with us, hurt rushes through me like a river. Wetness stings the backs of my eyes, and I blink furiously, not wanting the tears to fall. I’ll be damned if I allow either of them to see how upset I am.
Bridgette clears her throat. “I’ll be twenty-eight next month. I know the age difference is a bit of a shock, but I want you to know that I love your father.” She glances down at her hands, which are twisting in her lap. “We make each other happy, and we want to be together.” Her eyes lift to mine again. “I’m sorry that it hurts you.”
Precariously close to losing it, I bolt from my chair. “I’m sorry, I can’t do this right now,” I say hastily.
Both Dad and his fiancée rise from their seats.
“Natalie, please…Let’s sit back down and discuss this like rational adults,” my father implores.
My hands tremble as I swipe my phone from the table and my purse from the back of the chair. I shake my head. “No, I can’t. I have to go.”
Not bothering to say goodbye, I rush toward the exit. My dad doesn’t try and stop me, which is a relief. I need to get out of here. Away from both of them.
I can’t breathe.
After I push out through the doors into the warm evening air, my feet grind to a halt, and I suck in a deep breath. Then close my eyes and try to steady myself.