Uncovered Secret: Taylor Swift Has A Daughter - Fanfiction

Chapter 18: Matty Healy Comes for Dinner (and leaves cause he's the worst)

Author's note: to clarify the timeline, this is 12 years after Taylor's break right before Reputation, but the whole Matty, Travis etc thing didn't happen yet, just go with it

The kitchen was bustling with a rare kind of excitement, a mix of curiosity and cautious optimism as I prepared dinner. Well, the chef prepared dinner, we were just setting the table. Matty would be joining us, and while this wasn't the first time I had introduced Bridget to someone I was dating, it felt different. Maybe because this time, I felt a sense of serenity within the chaos of my life. Matty and I have been on and off for a while, but never truly serious until now.

Bridget's reaction was nonchalant when I told her about Matty. "From the 1975? Cool band," she said, scrolling through her phone with a half-smile. I could tell she was holding back, her usual vibrant self slightly dimmed. "Are you happy?" she asked, her gaze lifting from the screen to meet mine.

"Very," I replied, not just with words but with the smile that I couldn't contain. It was the truth. Matty brought a balance to the spinning world I lived in.

"Well, that's all that matters then, isn't it?" Bee smiled, going back on her phone. Ah, teenagers. I was lowkey glad we settled back to our regular pace. There was love, but it came with plenty of attitude.

As the time for his arrival neared, I could see Bridget's demeanor shift. A twinge of anticipation, maybe a sliver of excitement, or was it anxiety? "Will he be ok?" she whispered, almost to herself.

"We'll see, won't we?" I winked at her, trying to ease the tension. "Just be yourself, Bee. That's all that matters."

The doorbell rang. With a deep breath, we went to welcome Matty, not just into our home, but potentially into our intricate and intertwined lives.

Dinner was supposed to be a pleasant affair, an opportunity for Matty to get to know Bridget, for us to blend our worlds. The table was set, the food was ready, and the atmosphere was ripe with the potential for new beginnings. But as we sat down, the air was threaded with an uncomfortable tension.

The clinking of cutlery against the plates provided a temporary distraction from the stilted dialogue. Matty, with his seemingly rehearsed questions and exaggerated laughter, appeared to be grappling for a connection with my daughter, but every word felt like a misstep, widening the gap between him and Bridget.

Bee, usually vivacious and outspoken, retreated into a shell. Her responses were clipped, a stark departure from the elaborate stories she usually delighted in sharing. The light in her eyes had dimmed, replaced by a guarded wariness. I watched her push the food around her plate, her appetite lost in the discomfort of the moment.

I attempted to bridge the awkwardness of it all with anecdotes and light-hearted jests, hoping to spark some of the natural chemistry that usually danced around our dinner table. But it was like throwing matches in the rain; nothing caught fire.

Matty's laughter rang out too loudly at times, a clear sign of overcompensation. And Bridget, she just folded further into herself, her forced smiles betraying her unease. It pained me to see her so out of sorts, so unlike the girl who could command a room with her wit and charm.

Then, out of nowhere, Matty's comment sliced through the air, "You must really enjoy the drama, huh? Being the center of it all?" His tone was light, but the insinuation was heavy, charged with accusation.

Bridget's face flushed, her eyes sparked with a familiar fire. "Excuse me?" she shot back, the calm demeanor slipping. "Why would you even say that?"

Matty shrugged, a smug look crossing his features. "Well, all that stuff with the paparazzi, it's a bit convenient, isn't it? A bored teenager wanting some attention, I bet."

I felt a protective rage boiling within me. "Matty, that's enough," I interjected sharply, my voice leaving no room for argument.

"Just like I bet you're enjoying the racist accusations people have made about you on social media," Bee spat out before I could stop her.

He ignored her comment and pressed on, oblivious or indifferent to the line he was crossing. "I'm just saying, it wouldn't surprise me if you orchestrated all of this yourself."

"Get out," I cut him off, standing up, my chair scraping against the floor. The shock on his face didn't mask the hurt he had inflicted on Bridget, her eyes now full of fury.

Matty stuttered an apology, but it was too late. I walked him to the door, my heart aching for Bridget. The door closed behind him with a thud, the sound echoing the finality of my decision. If you don't respect my daughter, you don't respect me. Sure, she's a bratty teenager, but she's my bratty teenager.

The aftermath of the disastrous dinner lingered like a bad taste. Bridget's anger was a palpable force, her eyes blazing with a fire that I'd hoped to never be directed at me.

"How could you bring him into our home? After everything he's said, everything he's done?" Her voice trembled with a mix of fury and disappointment.

I stood there, aghast, struggling to reconcile the protective mother I always strove to be with the accusations now hurled at me. "Bee, I—"

"No, you knew about his past, about the things he's said. Racism isn't just a mistake you can brush under the rug, mom. It's a belief system, and by dating him, you're telling the world it's not a deal-breaker for you," she cut me off, her words a sharp rebuke.

The hurt in her voice stung more than the words themselves. The idea that I could be complicit in such a way was a blow to everything I stood for, everything I had taught her.

"Bridget, I never intended—"

"You never intended to fall for someone who could hurt people, I get it. But intentions don't matter when the actions cause pain," she interrupted, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.

This was not a teenage outburst; this was a moment of realization, a confrontation of values. Bridget's moral compass was pointing accusingly at me, and the gravity of the situation settled heavily on my shoulders.

Bee stormed into her room, slamming the door behind her. I closed my eyes as I let out a deep sigh. Every moment turns into one step forward and two steps back with her. But this time, I knew I messed up. I wanted to see Matty for Matty, not for who he showed himself to others. I should've known.