Page 12 of Keeping Score

“We’re meeting my dad for breakfast.”

That surprised me.

And irritated me.

I hated that guy. I’d gone with Maggie to see him whenever she asked, but every time I did, he seemed to spend more time talking to me about hockey than he did talking to Maggie about any of the numerous, more interesting things she had going on in her life.

“When did that happen?” I asked, sliding into bed beside her.

“I texted him during the party and asked if I could see him. He said yes.”

I frowned.

“What?” Her head turned in my direction, but her sleep mask was already covering her eyes.

I laughed, shaking my head.

“Nothing.”

Maggie still got defensive at any hint of a negative comment aimed toward her dad, and I wasn’t going to get into that with her when she was already drunk and exhausted.

“I wish you got along with him better,” she mumbled, cozying up against her pillow.

It was a hard position to be in. Hating the guy of my own accord, while my girlfriend wanted me to be his best buddy, all while my best friend could barely hold back his irritation that we were still seeing this guy he wished would just go away for good.

Yeah, well, I wish he was easier to get along with.

“He’s my dad, you know?” Her words slurred with exhaustion.

“Yeah, Mags,” I told her heavily. “I know.”

I didn’t say anything else.

I wasn’t going to lie to Maggie. But I also wasn’t going to piss her off either.

So, I stared at the ceiling above me, listening to the sound of her snores fill the room.

Timothy Brynn kind of gave me the creeps.

Not because he was creepy. He was more of an asshole, if anything.

But looking at him and seeing Liam’s face had a remarkably eerie effect on a person. The expressions, the build, the facial features—they were so similar it was as if I were looking at my best friend twenty years in the future.

Not to mention those same green eyes that seemed to be everywhere I looked. Damn, the Brynn genes were strong.

As he walked over to where we were waiting in the lobby of the restaurant, Maggie leaned up to whisper in my ear.

“Be nice.”

I gave her a smile of silent reassurance that I would.

I was never rude, exactly, but it was hard to pretend to care about conversations that revolved around only three things: her father’s career, Liam’s career, and my career.

It was like the topic of Maggie being one of Boston’s best family lawyers slipped his mind every time he saw her.

Infuriating, really. Though apparently, Maggie didn’t care.

“Hi, Dad,” she said, grinning as he approached.