'It really is like that old saying: a hundred little things show you don't love me, but you still have a mouth that says you do. How ironic.'
Nathan Redgrave watched Morgan Joyce pull Hannah Hale into an embrace, and the last shred of reason in his mind was annihilated by jealousy. He strode over and shoved Morgan away. "My wife doesn't need an outsider like you looking after her. And stay away from her from now on."
Hannah Hale, however, was quite calm. She slowly bent down and picked up the glasses Morgan Joyce had dropped on the floor. "He's my good friend, we grew up together. He's not an outsider."
"Why didn't you tell me you were hurt? I kept calling, but you never picked up. I was worried sick."
Nathan Redgrave looked at Hannah Hale with a complicated expression. Her earlier statement that Morgan Joyce wasn't an outsider had left a sour taste in his mouth.
