Page 50 of Cuffed to my Roomies
Derek brushed past us and went into the loft. I heard the refrigerator door, heard him pop a beer and turn on the TV, heard the metallic shift as he kicked back the recliner. I lifted my face to look at Brett. My eyes still swam with tears. He kissed my forehead and led me inside.
“Are you this upset about your dad coming?” he asked softly.
“She’s pissed because I called her out on being ashamed of us,” Derek called from the recliner, not turning around.
“I’m not!” I cried. I went for the paper towels in the kitchen and mopped my face.
He pushed down the footrest and got to his feet, a storm in his eyes.
“Damn it, Lynette. I’m serious about you. I have feelings for you. We both do. This isn’t something you can throw away, some dirty little secret.”
He stalked out, slamming the loft door behind him.
21
Derek stormed out and left us there. I turned to Brett.
“Do you feel the same way he does?” I asked. I hoped it was a no, hoped his supportive and caring routine from earlier was the truth of how he felt.
Brett walked away from me and got a glass of water. He leaned on the sink, facing away from me. When he finally turned around, the frown lines around his mouth from the first time we met were back, bracketing his beautiful lips.
“I want you to do what’s right for you, always,” he said, and sighed.
“But?” I prompted.
“But it’s hurtful. That you would rather pretend we’re nothing to you, rather than tell the truth and risk the disapproval of a narrow-minded person who doesn’t value you for who you really are—I care about you, too. Too much to walk out when you hurt me, but too much to lie to you either. Yes, I feel the same way Derek does, even if I show it differently.”
I nodded.
“I’m sorry. I don’t know what to do. He’s not just some guy on the corner, he’s my dad. The only family I have left. ”
Without a word, he turned, went in his bedroom and shut the door. I went to bed alone, lonely and worried. I didn’t sleep, just freaked about what the next day might bring. What I could possibly say to my father, and how I could make him understand, or how I could handle the guys, make it up to them that I was selfish and didn’t prioritize their feelings. I didn’t come up with any answers that made me feel better at all.
Late into the night, or maybe in the early hours of the morning, I heard the front door as Derek returned. He knocked softly at my door. I was still awake and miserable, but I didn’t want to talk. I especially didn’t want a renewal of his feelings about how I was being a callous bitch. He didn’t understand that I was hurting, too. That I was truly scared about losing my dad forever. So I didn’t feel like getting up in the middle of the night, tear stained and worried, to hash out the problem again.
I turned my face to the wall and pretended to sleep. When I didn’t answer him knock again, I figured he’d gone to his own room. Then I heard the whisper of my door opening as he looked in on me. My heart pounded and for an instant when I thought he might try to wake me up. When he went back out and closed the door behind him, I laid still for a long time, silent.
I didn’t know what to do. I wanted to show off my happy and successful city life to my dad. I wanted him to be proud of me, and to think that I was using my education to get an opportunity at a major international magazine. That I was a hard worker like him who supported myself financially. That I made a smart, safe choice in moving in with two cops. That my life was going well. And that I was in love.
But I was afraid of what he’d think, what he’d say if he knew I was sleeping with both Derek and Brett, that I was, in my father’s views, a slut. A woman who had sex outside of marriage, who was possibly an abomination for being part of a threesome. I was a good girl growing up. I ate my vegetables. I sold Girl Scout cookies. I made good grades and turned in my homework on time and almost always remembered to do the dishes and make my bed. So it would be a shock of the worst kind for my dad to know what I was doing.
What if he never wanted to see me again? What if he demanded that I repent my lifestyle and break it off with Derek and Brett? I knew he couldn’t make me do that, since I was an adult. But I also knew that if he threatened to disown me, to never see me again, that I’d cry and beg his forgiveness, because he was my dad. Because I loved him and looked up to him, and because he had raised me on his own. I might not have the same values as he did, but I respected him.
