“I didn’t touch her,” I said calmly. “She threw herself on the floor.”
“Oh, come on!” Nathan scoffed. “Why would she do that? Look at her! She’s hurt!” He knelt down and helped Danica up, his arm lingering around her waist a little too long. “You’re out of control. You’re letting your grief turn you into a bitter, vindictive woman.”
“You know what?” I said, my voice quiet. “I’m tired of this game, Nathan.” I took a step closer to him. “Just choose, Nathan. Right now. Choose me or her.”
Nathan froze. He looked at me, then down at Danica, who was clinging to his arm like a limpet. He opened his mouth, then closed it. He looked trapped.
“I… Karylle, that’s ridiculous,” he stammered. “I can’t choose between my wife and my best friend’s sister. You’re both important to me.”
“That’s an answer,” I said.
I turned and walked out the front door into the cool night air.
I stood on the porch, taking deep gulps of oxygen, trying to stop the tears from falling. I wouldn’t cry for him. Not anymore.
“Karylle?”
A deep, familiar voice came from the shadows near the driveway.
I looked up. Leaning against a sleek black sedan was Martin—Danica’s older brother and Nathan’s best friend.