Miranda burst into laughter when she heard Xanthea's name, "Didn't you call out for her all night already? Isn't that enough?"
Her? One night?
Those few words shattered the last bit of hope Matthew had been clinging to. His heavenly elation plummeted into hellish despair.
The person he had slept with last night was Miranda, not Xan?!
Impossible! This couldn't be happening!
"Matt, have you not sobered up yet?"
"Or did you really think, with her personality, she'd take the initiative to sleep with you?"
"Shut up!"
Matthew barked furiously, unable to accept the scene unfolding before him.
He remembered everything now—the drunken blur of the previous night. When Xanthea had arrived, he did suspect whether it was really her, but she was so enthusiastic, he just couldn't resist.
"It was you! You wore Xan's dress, mimicked her voice, came to the bar to find me, and that's why I mistook you for her!"
"Matt, stop making excuses for yourself. You've never been a one-woman man. Why pretend to be the devoted lover now? Isn't this what you've always wanted?"
"Get out!"
Matthew shoved away her clinging arms, his eyes nearly bulging out of his skull, "It was all a setup by you, wasn't it?"
Miranda sneered.
Back in Willowdale, they had already shown their true colors to each other. Now, it was all just a game of manipulation; no need for pretenses.
"I'm the bad one, but what does that make you, the future brother-in-law who slept with me?"
"Shut up!"
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