Daniel picked up a brochure and waved it in my face. “Here, Nathan, look at this one. Flown in from Italy. Imagine it in the entryway. Wouldn’t it look amazing?”
I waved him off, pushing the brochure back. “No thanks. I’ve already made my choice. You two take your time.”
Daniel blinked, then lifted his wrist in a limp flourish, feigning deep injury. “Ohhh, what’s this? You don’t want me here? Should I leave?”
But before he could take a step, Cassandra grabbed his hand tightly. “Why are you leaving?”
She swung her head back at me, eyes blazing. “Nathan, Daniel is family now. Can’t you treat him with some respect? Don’t bring your bad temper from outside back into our home!”
Her words stopped me cold.
Family? Since when? And how come I, the so-called man of the house, was the last to know?
But then again, what did it matter? She could sell our home without asking me. Why would she need my approval for anything else?
Having that thought, I laughed bitterly and remarked, “This little sissy only looks good in your eyes. If he wants to leave, let him leave. What’s with all the whining?”
Both of them froze, caught off guard by my bluntness.
“Who are you calling a sissy?” Daniel snapped. “Watch your mouth!”
He huffed and puffed like he was storming out. “Fine! I’ll leave, no need to insult me!”
But Cassandra tightened her grip on his hand. “Nathan, we’re about to get married. Can you act like a grown man for once? From the engagement until now, you’ve never treated me kindly. And now you’re dragging Daniel into it?”
Daniel tugged on her arm, though his body pressed even closer to hers. “Cassandra, don’t. Just drop it.”
But Cassandra’s temper finally snapped. “No, I won’t drop it! I’ve had enough! Nathan, keep pushing! Go ahead and make a scene! And when your wound splits open again because of your tantrums, don’t you dare turn around and blame me for not warning you!”
Nathan's POV
The store instantly went dead silent, and the salesgirl lowered her head, pretending to fuss over the shelves, clearly feeling awkward.
My heart felt like it had been dropped into an ice pit.
So that was it. In her eyes, my scar wasn’t a mark of pain or a reminder of the promise she once made to me. It was nothing more than a tool I used to grab her attention.
And I had actually been foolish enough to believe she’d still remember her promise, the way that scar has always remained etched into my skin.