Page 183 of Before We Were

She pulls back, her eyes narrowing as her sweet facade crumbles. "Is this seriously because ofher?" she spits, venom dripping from every word.

"Watch your mouth, Farrah," I warn, my voice dangerously low. The thought of her even speaking Nora's name makes my blood boil.

She presses on, undeterred. "Do you love her, Nate? Or is she just another distraction from your fucked-up little life?"

Her words hit a nerve, raw and exposed, but I don't back down. I step closer, my gaze locking with hers.

"You don't get to talk about her, period. Because she's…" I pause, the truth clawing its way to the surface.

She's everything you could never be.

Her face twists in anger before she sneers, "What? A fragile little whore who needs you to fight her battles for her?"

Something snaps inside me.

Before I can stop myself, I've pinned her against the counter, my rage a barely controlled inferno.

"I told you to watch your fucking mouth," I growl, my voice shaking with intensity. "I won't say it again. Understand?"

Her eyes widen, a flash of fear flickering before she masks it with defiance. Before the tension can escalate further, the door creaks open and Mom steps in. The timing is almost too perfect, like she has a sixth sense for damage control. I step back, putting distance between us.

"Everything okay here?" she asks, her sharp gaze flicking between us.

Farrah's smile returns instantly, syrupy sweet. "Of course. I was just grabbing a salad bowl to take outside."

I watch, incredulous, as she picks up the nearest bowl and walks out, her exit as graceful as ever. The smell of her perfume lingers, cloying and artificial, so different from Nora's subtle, sweet scent.

Mom raises an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. "Just so you know, I never liked her."

I let out a humorless laugh, running a hand through my hair. The anger is still there, simmering under my skin, but Mom's presence helps ground me.

"To be fair, I'm not sure I ever really did either."

Mom folds her arms, concern etching lines around her eyes. "Jake invited her?"

I nod, frustration bleeding into my voice. "We're not—I don't know why he did."

Her gaze softens, but there's worry there too. "Have you spoken to him yet? About??—"

"No," I cut in. "You need to though. Sooner the better."

"I know, Nate. Just… not today. Please. We've got guests, and the last thing I want is a scene." The irony of saying this after what just happened with Farrah isn't lost on me.

"Fine," I say softly, though the word tastes bitter.

Kat strolls into the kitchen, her eyes bright with mischief. "What'd I miss?"

The second I step outside, I zero in on Jake.

He's leaning against the table, drink in hand, talking to Ollie, looking far too casual for someone who just lit a goddamn fuse.

"Jake," I snap, striding over to him. The sun beats down mercilessly, but the heat in my blood burns hotter.

He looks up, feigning surprise with practiced ease. "What?"

"Why did you invite her?" I demand, keeping my voice low enough not to draw attention. My fists clench at my sides, the sharp edge in my voice could cut through steel.

He shrugs, his calculated nonchalance lighting a fire under my already boiling blood. "Guess it must really suck to be out of the loop when things are happening."

---