Ready For It (MacAteer Brothers #2) - M.L. Nystrom Page 0,13
go out to bars and clubs like some people go to church. You sleep around. A lot. You cuss like a sailor. None of that says mother material.”
How dare he be so fucking judgmental? “So when a man drinks, goes out clubbing, and sleeps with a lot of different women, he’s a fucking rock star. His friends congratulate him on winning longevity betting pools. When a woman does it, she’s a slut. Double standard much?”
He shrugged. “It’s the way it is, and you can’t possibly need money from me either.”
“What the fuck do you mean now?”
He threw the last of the Danish into his mouth and chomped on it. No careful threes this time. “You know exactly what I mean. Your family has a shit ton of money, and you get a monthly cut of it. In fact, you’ll be rich the rest of your life and not have to lift a goddamned finger. You were born with a fucking silver spoon in your mouth, and you’re still sucking on it. If this is your ploy to get child support from me, get ready to fight, baby. You have to prove I’m the father, and I can drag this out until that kid graduates college.”
Oh, no. I’m so done with this!
I stood up and threw my cold coffee at his face. “I don’t want a goddamned thing from you, asshole! This is my kid, and I’d rather raise him alone than deal with your fucking lame ass.”
He spluttered, and the chair screeched as he pushed back. His knees knocked into the edge of the table and raised it a few inches, and the noise caught the attention of several passers-by.
“Bitch!” His yell was to my back, as I’d already turned and walked away. Bitch was right. It stood for Being-In-Total-Control-of-Herself. I’d wear the title proudly.
My rage kept me going until I got to my car, started it, and drove away. Only then did I let the tears roll down my cheeks.
“Fuck that asshole!” The clock on my dashboard said I had an hour before my appointment, and I wasted time and gas driving in circles around the city. I had expected the conversation with Peter to go differently and longer. His anger shocked me, as I thought he would try to convince me to stay with him for the baby’s sake, or perhaps want to coparent with me. I never dreamed he would attack me as he did. His words repeated on a loop in my head while I drove around on autopilot.
“Is this some joke? You? A mother?”
“You like to drink. You go out to bars and clubs like some people go to church. You sleep around. You cuss like a sailor. None of that says mother material.”
“You were born with a fucking silver spoon in your mouth, and you’re still sucking on it.”
My hands clenched the steering wheel. Yes, I liked to go out. I was single. What else was I going to do? Stay home and knit a closet full of blankets and scarves while waiting for the Saturday night HBO movie feature? A fucking betting pool? How many men had betting pools on how long they lasted in a relationship? Hurt, frustration, and anger all rolled into a big iron ball and sat in my gut. The silver spoon remark bugged me the most. I might have come from money and had a lot in my bank account, but dammit, I still worked like everyone else in the world. So what if my money paid for college without taking out massive school loans? I didn’t go to an uber-fancy private high school or Ivy League college. I graduated with honors from a state university, and I earned my degrees with hours of studying and classes. Teaching was a calling, not a hobby to fill a rich girl’s time. I worked hard every fucking day for my students and spent huge amounts of time tutoring and coaching. I cared about my students with a passion.
Fuck, I wanted to call Bevvie so bad. I’d do that later after this appointment. Thank God I had one person in the world that didn’t judge me. Make that six, as her kids and Connor didn’t either. Owen’s name popped into my mind. He’d carried me to the guest bedroom, driven me home, made sure I ate, and argued about leaving me alone. I took a big breath and let it go along with some of the anxiety roiling in my gut