Page 46 of Tessa and Nash

“So,” she says, dragging the word out as she tops off our mugs. “This is… new.”

I smile sweetly. “Good morning, Jet.”

Her gaze flicks between us, catching on the fact that we’re sitting across from each other instead of at opposite ends of the diner like usual.

“Did I miss something?” she asks cautiously.

“Yes,” Nash says immediately. “Several mistakes.”

Jet’s brows knit. “Okay, but last night you two were one heated comment away from a public reenactment of senior year.”

Nash groans and drops his forehead briefly onto the table.

Jet squints harder, clearly trying to solve a puzzle she doesn’t like the answer to.

“And,” she adds slowly, “aren’t you engaged? When are we going to get to meet this mysterious fiancée of yours?”

Nash makes a noise that sounds like physical pain.

Martha Lou snorts as she moves away, but Jet stays another beat, eyes sharp with curiosity and confusion.

“…Huh,” she says finally, then wanders off, muttering something under her breath that sounds suspiciously like this town is gonna explode.

She has no idea.

I stir my coffee slowly, watching Nash squint at his plate.

“This is rough for you,” I say pleasantly.

He lifts his head just enough to glare at me. “Please don’t start.”

“Oh, I’m absolutely starting,” I shoot back. “You lied to the entire town.”

“I panicked,” he hisses back.

“You invented a relationship.”

“I needed time. I already told you that.”

“You slept with your enemy.”

His jaw tightens. “You did not seem like an enemy last night.”

I lean in, keeping my smile firmly in place for anyone watching. “Careful, McCoy. You’re one comment away from choking on your hash browns.”

He exhales sharply through his nose. “This is not funny.”

“No,” I agree softly. “It’s useful.”

That gets his attention.

I lean back in the booth, crossing my arms, studying him properly now. The charm is muted this morning, buried under consequences and caffeine withdrawal. What’s left is raw.

This is the Nash McCoy people don’t see.

And it’s exactly why this is better than anything I could have planned.

“You told me there’s no fiancée,” I say quietly. “Which means the council is operating under false pretenses.”