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“He’s right,” Rowe says. “You find something wrong with every guy you date.”

“I do not.”

She raises her eyebrows. “Matt? Loud chewer. Tyler? Close talker.”

“That one guy, Zach?” Boone points at me with his fork. “Too pretty.”

“Ooh, he was pretty,” Rowena says on a sigh.

“When was the last time you even went on a date?” West says.

“When was the last time you went on a date?” I toss back.

“He’s too in love with Mallory to date anyone else.” Rowena smirks. We love to tease West about Mallory. They’re in a band together, and every time we see them perform, we decide everyone else knows what neither of them will admit—they’re in love. West denies it, of course.

Sometimes I wonder if he’ll ever figure it out.

“At this rate, we aren’t going to get any more grandchildren till we’re in the grave,” Momma quips.

I drop my napkin onto my plate. “I am leaving this nut house. See you all bright and early for day one of wedding prep?”

“I feel like we’ve been prepping for this wedding for years,” Quent mutters.

“Hattie, wait, you’re not actually mad, right?” West asks. “Because if we had it to do again, we’d probably do the same thing.”

“Yep,” Boone says. “One hundred percent.”

“I’m fine.” I push my chair back and start to stand.

“Wait, Hattie, before you go—” Noble reaches up and grabs my arm. It sends a zing through my entire body.

Stupid Noble. Stupid chocolate eyes. Stupid face.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

“I . . . uh . . .” He starts and stops, almost—embarrassed or nervous? It’s unexpected, and I hate that I find it endearing.

“I wanted to say something while you’re all here,” he says.

Slowly, I sit back down, and his hand falls away. I miss the warmth of his touch instantly, so I pick up my water and take a drink, trying to slow my racing heart.

“I’m not good with speeches⁠—”

“We’ve seen you on television,” Rowena says. “You do okay.”

He waves her off. “That’s a put-on, you know? Half the time it’s scripted and memorized. Part of the job. Sometimes I feel like I’m playing a role out there, like, I don’t know, like an actor or something.”

My eyes dip down to his hands, working the napkin in his lap.

He is nervous.

Something inside me softens.

“And as bad as I am with speeches, I’m even worse about feelings. Especially talking about feelings.”

“Oh, man, have you gone soft?” Boone says, a groan in his voice.

“There is nothing wrong with a man having feelings, Boone,” Rowena says. “It’s a very attractive quality.” She props her elbow on the table and rests her chin on her fist, mooning at Noble.