The Granger family living room looked like a war zone—overturned vases, a half-shattered wine glass bleeding red across the rug, and a smashed photo frame face-down on the floor, glass splinters glittering like shrapnel.
Clive Granger’s slap cracked through the air. ‘I should’ve had a vasectomy.’
Rhys winced, hand on his cheek. ‘I just thought—’
‘You thought?’ Another slap. ‘You thought wrong, dumbass. You said Mirabelle was obsessed with you. That she’d still marry you even if you were screwing your way through Skyline. And now what? She’s walked. You couldn’t even keep a woman. Jesus, Rhys, I can’t walk anywhere without someone stopping me to ask about you and Catherine Vane. Everyone knows.’
‘Um, we never actually told anyone about—’
‘Bullshit!’ Clive’s palm met skin ag
