Kitty had never liked me, because she knew I'd had feelings for Darren. After they got married, I'd kept my distance. I spent most of my time living at the shop just to avoid any appearance of impropriety. On the rare occasions we crossed paths, I called her "sis" like a good girl and never once stepped out of line. I even swallowed every passive-aggressive jab she threw my way without complaint.
But now? They'd used my feelings. Played me for a fool.
So why should I—why should my family—be the ones dragged through the mud?
For the first time, I didn't want to back down.
I raised my hand to strike, but someone seized my wrist in a crushing grip.
Darren swept a glance over the paint splattered across my body, then frowned at Kitty.
"What the hell is wrong with you now?"
There was no real bite to it. No anger. Meanwhile, his grip on my wrist was iron-tight, as though he were terrified I might actually hit someone.
Kitty pointed at me, her voice dripping with wounded innocence.
"Darren, she's the one who wrecked our marriage. She forced you to divorce me and marry her. All I did was splash a little paint to vent. That's not unreasonable, is it?"