Page 163 of Shy Girls Can't Date Rockstars
Miranda grows rigid with tension. “My office key. It wasn’t an accident that I found it in the foyer.”
“You didn’t notice you’d dropped it.” My knuckles crack as my hands form fists. “How could you? How could you berate my mother into giving you the money her father left to her?”
“Ourfather!“ Miranda snaps. “He was my father too, and he didn’t leave me a dime.”
“Because you kept taking from him while he was alive.”
“He couldn’t see the bigger picture. The part down the line where he was paid back his initial investment and more.”
“But he’s gone, Miranda,” I say, my voice growing hoarse. “He’s gone, and so is your business. What investment? He was right not to believe in you.”
Fire burns in her eyes. “How dare you! You ungrateful little wretch.”
I lift on tiptoes, hoping my petite frame doesn’t betray me. “How am I wrong?”
Miranda turns, slams a hand on the island countertop, and lets out a guttural scream.
My heels land on the floor. I shiver through a wave of goosebumps and force myself to step backward.
Then the scream fades.
Miranda’s hand slides off the counter. The wildness drains out of her face, leaving exhaustion.
“Emancipation? Exactly how do you plan on doing that?”
“How do you think?” My heart is racing. “I’m coming into money. My parents’ business and home are selling. I won’t let you get your hands on my mother’s money again.”
“That’s what this is about?”
“Of course. All you think about is money. Every time you get your hands on it, you blow it.” I throw my arms out wide. “Just look at this monstrosity of a house. Imagine what your father would’ve said. This was such a bad financial choice, but you made it.”
“You read some letters and now you think you have me all figured out?”
“No, I think you finally make sense.”
“Bravo. You can walk out on me like the rest of the family.”
“You don’t exactly make it easy to be around you.”
“Of course, it’s all my fault. Don’t you take any of the blame, Alice.”
“Me?” I press my hand firmly over the space above my heart. “How is it my fault?”
“Sarah was my big sister,” Miranda fires back. “I spent my whole childhood thinking that meant something. That she’d always be there, no matter how badly I messed up.”
I stay very still.
“And then one day she wasn’t.” Miranda’s jaw shifts. “She stopped protecting me because she cared about you more. I know you’re her child, but it still hurt. Hurt so much I couldn’t stomach the thought of being at her funeral.”
I blink away the blur in my vision. “She had a new family.”
“It’s not my fault I didn’t want to follow the same conventional path she took.”
“I didn’t say it was.”
“Sarah was infuriating,” Miranda says, but there’s something tender beneath it. “She was so certain about everything. Her principles, her choices, and the way she lived. Yet, somehow she managed to be kind about it. That was the worst part. I could have handled her being self-righteous. But she was just... good.”
“Why is that a bad thing?”
