“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Macy snapped.
Nathaniel’s face was the picture of disdain, or at least punchable, in Macy’s opinion. He ignored her, opting to address his sister instead.
“You have a lot of nerve showing up here, Harper,” he said, face pinched in disgust. “You picked this lifestyle over your family, now you’ve come to rub it in everyone’s faces.”
Harper flushed pink, her hands balling into fists. “I most cer-certainly am n-not.”
“See? You’re a stuttering mess because you know I’m right.” At the derisive mention of Harper’s stutter, Macy could feel an angry well of protectiveness form within her chest, but Nathaniel continued speaking, despite the murderous glare she was giving him. “The dancing? The kissing? It’s embarrassing, like real love could ever happen
