Page 65 of Tessa and Nash

Virgil Tucker is, in fact, staring into my soul from the feed store booth he’s running with Penny. Penny waves wildly the second she sees us, then immediately starts whispering to the woman beside her, giving a live update to a sports commentator.

Tessa’s fingers slide into my coat pocket, warm against my knuckles.

It’s subtle. Private. Not for the town.

My whole body goes still anyway.

“You’re doing the smile again,” she says quietly.

“What smile?”

“The one that says I’m fine when you’re absolutely not fine.”

“I…” I inhale, then force my shoulders to drop. “Okay. Fine. I’m not fine.”

Tessa’s thumb strokes my knuckle inside the pocket once, calming me without letting anyone else see.

“Better,” she says.

“Do you have a manual for this?”

“Yes,” she replies. “It’s called stop panicking in public. You should read it.”

I huff a laugh, but it comes out strained.

Tessa looks out toward the gazebo, where Dottie Mae Carter sits on a chair with a giant smile plastered across her face. Dottie is bundled in layers of wool and attitude. Someone has given her a microphone. That’s a dangerous combination.

“Come on,” Tessa says. “We’re late.”

“For what?”

“For you getting over yourself,” she says, and then she starts walking, dragging me along as a reluctant sled.

We move into the crowd. People make space for us as if we’re royalty. I nod at faces I’ve known my whole life. I get slapped on the shoulder by men who look thrilled about my engagement. I hear congratulations whispered.

“Tessa!” Clara Jenkins calls from the bakery table she’s set up near the gazebo. She’s selling pies “for the historical preservation fund,” which is code for Clara wanted a reason to bake.

Clara’s eyes sparkle when she sees us together. “There’s my engaged girl!”

Tessa’s posture doesn’t change, but her smile softens in a way that surprises me every time. She actually likes people. When she chooses to.

“Hello, Clara,” she says warmly.

Clara leans forward conspiratorially. “I saved you a slice of pecan. It’s lucky.”

“We’re going to need all the luck we can get,” I mutter.

Clara laughs as if I’m charming and not actively dying inside. “Oh, Nash. You’ll be fine. You finally have someone who can keep you in line.”

Tessa lifts her brows. “Keep him in line?”

Clara pats Tessa’s hand. “Honey, everyone’s been waiting for the day someone could.”

“I’m right here,” I say.

“And you’re lucky,” Clara says brightly, then hands Tessa a paper plate, offering a blessing.

Tessa accepts it.