Just how many secrets has she been keeping from me?
“We dated a long time ago before we ever met,” Miranda states.
I look over and glare at George, confused by this news.
“We dated in university,” George adds that missing piece of information.
My eyes flick to Miranda, who nods.
What the hell?
I don’t understand.
Why did she keep this from me?
Why did theybothkeep this from me?
“George and I weren’t serious in university, but we did date on and off for the entire time we were both there,” Miranda confesses.
Years? They dated on and off for years?
That’s something she should have fucking told me about. He wasn’t some one-night-stand bullshit.
“We weren’t ready to be together then. It wasn’t our time,” George adds, and his confession makes my stomach sink and roll as I try and hold back the bile that’s creeping up my throat.
And now it is their time?
Is that what he’s saying?
“I didn’t realize you were related to George until you brought me home for the first time, and I met him at the dinner table,” Miranda explains in a more quiet and measured tone.
“That was four years ago,” I question.
“I should have told you then, but I didn’t know how, and George was dating someone else, so it didn’t matter. We agreed to keep it a secret for the sake of our partners,” she explains.
“How long have the two of you been fucking around?” I ask through gritted teeth.
They both remain silent.
“How. Fucking. Long?” I ask, raising my voice.
Miranda jumps, and she blinks a few times before recovering her calm exterior.
“After that first family dinner,” George adds, raising a brow at me in some sort of conquest. The smugness on his face as he drops that nugget of truth on me turns my seething lethal.
Miranda glares at him, then turns to me and nods once.
Four fucking years!
Practically our entire relationship.
“I couldn’t believe you brought her home with you. I was so angry. She was the one who got away. The one woman I could never get out of my mind. I knew she was dating someone seriously, but I didn’t know who. Then there she was at our family’s dinner table with you,” George tells me angrily.
How the hell is this my fault?I’m not fucking psychic.
“It was fate that brought her back into my life again that night. I had to know if she still felt the same way. So we slipped away, and when I questioned her about it, I knew she did, so I fucked her in my childhood bedroom,” George confesses.
They fucked that night?