Tate’s glare sliced straight into her, cold and dangerous. Nettie flinched, instantly regretting the slip.
“I really, really should go.”
“Nobody is leaving,” Mrs. Cassidy cut in sharply, her smile returning a heartbeat later as if she hadn’t just scolded them. “It’s been much too long since I’ve had everyone under this roof for dinner and…”
“Maybe we should make it a little longer,” Tate snapped.
“No time like the present,” Nettie retorted before she could stop herself, her discomfort sharpening her tongue. She wanted to disappear, but instead she stood there, matching his glare for one reckless moment.
“Oh my gosh, would you two just kiss and get it over with?” Shannon blurted, her exasperation slicing through the tension like a blade. “I swear – will they? Won’t they? I’m getting whiplash over here!”
Both Nettie and Tate froze. Their eyes collided—hot, startled, electric—and then, as if burned, both looked away. Nettie’s cheeks burned, her heart in chaos. Tate was pale; his entire face was pinched in what could only be described as dismay… or disgust?
“I wish I had a camera…” Shannon muttered.
“Did you see their faces?” Gina preened excitedly.
“Shannon, behave—or you’re sitting next to Tate,” Mrs. Cassidy warned.
“Why is that a punishment?” Tate snapped, bristling again.“Seriously, Mom?”
“Don’t you sass me, young man,” Mrs. Cassidy clapped back with all the authority of a woman who had raised two strong-willed children and wasn’t about to be challenged. “I brought you into this world, changed your diaper, and kissed every boo-boo… and when I pick up an iota of attitude from you—you’re gonna get it back tenfold.”
“Listen to your mother, Tate,” Mr. Cassidy said simply, as if that closed the argument. He reached across the table to squeeze his wife’s hand. “She rules the roost—and my heart.”
“Y’all are too sweet,” Gina sighed, and then immediately stuck her tongue out at her brother. “Too bad for you that I got it all - and you got none of it.”
“Is this what I showed up for?” Tate grumbled.
Nettie wanted to laugh, but her chest was too tight.
“Nettie, dear, take a seat and… Shannon, you too, sweetie.”
“I’m by Gina in the corner,” Shannon announced quickly.
“It’s a round table, Dummy,” Tate muttered, dragging out two chairs with jerky, impatient movements before plopping down farther around the table. “Dad, where are you sitting?”
“By your mother.”
Tate rolled his eyes again. “Mom—where are you sitting?”
“By your father,” Mrs. Cassidy chuckled as she leaned in to kiss her husband’s cheek. The tender smack on her backside that followed made her squeak and giggle like a girl.
Everyone saw it. Nettie most of all.
Her throat tightened again, but for a very different reason. Envy. Longing. That ache of watching something so simple—love made ordinary, constant, and unshakable—and knowing she didn’t have it. Had never had it. The silence of her grandmother’s house felt heavier in her chest.
“Are you sitting down or are you going to stand there all night?” Tate’s voice cut through her thoughts, sharp andimpatient. He set a glass of iced tea in front of a plate with a pointed slam. “Pick a spot and plant your butt in a chair.”
Swallowing back her first instinct to snap, Nettie reached for a chair. Tate’s glare stopped her cold.
“My father is sitting there.”
“Oh.”
She shifted to the next one, but he cut her off again. Her jaw clenched. The heat rising in her face was half embarrassment, half fury.
“My mother is sitting in that one,” he bit out, his scowl deepening before he yanked out a chair and shoved it toward her.
