Page 22 of Snowbound with My Dad's Best Friend

Clearing my throat, I take her coat for her before inviting her in. “Do you want water, or I have some scotch in the cupboard. May need it.”

I let out a laugh, but she remains stone-faced as I walk over to the glass-doored cabinet that holds the bottles of amber liquid.

“No thanks,” she declines, taking a seat on the couch.

Nodding, I set the glasses down, not feeling up for it anymore.

Walking over, I take the seat on the couch next to her, and the nerves sink into my stomach.

I feel nauseous.

The silence is deafening as I try to muster up something to say to her.

Before, I had this all laid out.

What I was going to say, how I would respond, depending on her response.

Now … nothing.

The crackling of my fireplace is the only noise as she nervously puts her hands together between her knees.

That is, until the weather comes back on, giving the same speech I heard moments prior to her showing up.

“That’s right, Scott,” the woman on the news says. “It seems that the storm will last all night, but by the morning, the conditions should be travelable. Make plans to stay home.”

It’s as if the news is trying to put a damper on the night.

Becca’s straight face twists as she stares up at the radar that is now plastered on the news.

“Do you think it’s going to start soon?” Becca comments with worry in her eyes.

“No, they said later tonight. But if it makes you feel better, we can make this quick so you can get back home.”

“Yes, please,” she answers too quickly. “So, what did you want to talk about?”

I filter through my brain, trying to find the right way to approach this, but instead, my mouth opens and I blurt it out. “What’s been going on between us?”

Becca stares at me blankly, staying silent.

“I need answers,” I continue.

It all falls out like word vomit that I can’t control. “And on that note, why did you leave me high and dry all those years ago? I mean…I still feel the same way about you I did five years ago. I just need to understand…And please. No more games.”

Once I stop speaking, I immediately regret my approach.

Why can’t I do anything calmly?

I wouldn’t be surprised if she walks out of my house and never speaks to me again.

Although maybe this is the right approach with her.

Being soft and tiptoeing hasn’t gotten me very far before when trying to get her to talk.

She gets that stubbornness from her father’s side, no doubt.

Back in college, he was the same way.

Even with the professors when he knew that they graded him unfairly.