My lit-loving heart pounds. “‘They did not know it was impossible, so they did it.’”

“Nice. How about, ‘If a man could be crossed with a cat, it would improve the man, but deteriorate the cat.’”

I smirk. “Speaking of, I still have a cat if you want him, but he’s more of an outside tom now. He runs around the whole neighborhood.” I rack my brain for another quote. “I got one: ‘The two most important days in your life are the day you were born and the day you find out why.’”

He mulls, rubbing his jaw. “How about ‘Don’t wait. The time will never be just right.’”

“Or ‘Any emotion, if sincere, is involuntary.’ I love that one.” I grin, then remember I’m mad at him.

He huffs out a laugh. “Is this some kind of face-off where we see who knows the most Mark Twain quotes?”

“I can go all night,” I say.

“Hmm,” he murmurs, his lip curling. “Mark Twain battle. I sense a contest.”

“We should do it,” I say.

“I dare you to try.”

“Is that a challenge?” I tuck my hands inside my pockets. They tremble. It’s him. I haven’t been able to get him out of my mind since the penthouse, wondering how he is.

If he’s as lonely as I am.

“Name the time and place, Elena.”

I suck in a sharp breath at the way he’s looking at me, those eyes warming.

And shit, he has no right to say my name like that, as if he’s savoring it.

My eyes stare at his lips, the fullness, the softness mixed with strength— I look around and realize Topher and Devon are looking at us strangely.

“What?” I say.

“Nothing,” Devon murmurs.

“Just awed by y’all’s memorization abilities,” Topher says. He looks at Jack. “Are you familiar with Romeo and Juliet?”

Jack clears his throat. “Yeah, I’ve been refreshing myself all week.”

I picture him laid up in his bed, sans shirt, turning the pages of the play. Maybe reading glasses on his face. My face feels hot.

This is really going to be a long month.

“Hey, guys,” comes a familiar voice behind me, and I start and turn, my eyes widening at the sight of my sister.

“Giselle? Are you doing the play?”

She dips her head and nods. I haven’t seen her since the library. Mama cooked lunch on Sunday, but she said she wasn’t feeling well and didn’t come.

Wearing a tweed jacket, dressy slacks, and heels, she walks over to us. I guess she came straight from her classes at Vandy. “Mama said Laura mentioned no one signed up to play the role of nurse, and well, I thought I might give it a go. You don’t mind, do you?”

I want to frown but put a smile on. “Of course not.”

But . . .

She’s never shown one iota of interest in the fine arts.

I flick my gaze behind her. “Preston here?”

“No.” She grimaces. “He hates this stuff.”

Right. He never came to any of my plays.

“Well, welcome to the crazy.” I do what any good sister would. I motion her to join our circle, introducing her to Devon and Jack.

She shakes hands with them and grows quiet, her finger twitching at the seams of her jacket.

Jack frowns, a pucker on his forehead as he takes her in, then turns back to me, a question in his eyes. I give him a nod and let him connect the dots. Yeah, she’s the one who’s with my ex.

Devon smiles at us, appreciation in his gaze. “You two look nothing alike.”

“Elena’s the fun one,” Giselle murmurs.

“And you’re the smart one,” I add.

She pushes up her glasses. “Well, you’re the one everyone adores.”

I blow out a breath. What is up with her? I push it aside.

“She’s recently engaged,” I say. It’s a non sequitur, but her ring is right there, glittering up at us.

Jack starts, looking at Giselle’s hand, then giving me a lingering look that I avoid.

“Congratulations,” Devon says with a smile. I don’t think he ever stops smiling. “Shame. I was hoping Elena knew some single ladies.”

“Elena knows everyone in town. I’m sure she can hook you up.” There’s a wistful tone in her voice, and I frown, about to disagree, but I realize she’s right. I do know everyone. Even though I moved away, as soon as I came back, I fell right into getting reacquainted with everyone in Daisy, either through the library or the community center.

I look at Devon and Jack. “We’re having the engagement party at my house for Giselle and her fiancé in a few weeks. You guys should come.” I groan inwardly. Why did I say that?

Jack starts and glances at Giselle. “Is that so?”

She nods. “Yes. Please come. I’d enjoy getting to know Elena’s friends.”

I shouldn’t have even invited them. It’s not my party. I’m just hosting it.

“My schedule is tight,” Jack says, shrugging.

That means no.

Devon laughs. “I’ll be there. I’m digging this town. What should I bring? Wine? Whiskey? Beer? What’s your favorite, Elena?”

I smile, my face burning at Jack’s odd behavior. I need some distance from him, from his coolness, like now, but I hang tough. “Just you and a smile.”

“Bells on, babe. So tell me about the single girls in Daisy.”

I nod. “There’s a teacher at the elementary school, Ms. Clark. Twenty-two. Long blonde hair. Drives a red convertible Mustang. Might be your style. She auditioned. I’m sure she’s here somewhere. Everyone gets a part if they want it.”

I dart my eyes around the gym until I find the teacher. She’s talking to a group, but her eyes are focused on Jack like a laser beam. I picture her dashing up to Jack and fawning all over him like those girls at the VIP room.

Devon slides in closer. “Oh, tell me more. Does she have a ruler she can pop me with?”

“Ask Jack,” I say, grimacing, even though I try not to. “He got her phone number when he visited the school. Heard from Birdie Walker he was very interested.”

Devon sends Jack a hard glance. “Did you now?”

“She pressed it in my hands.” Jack glares at me.

He should have ripped it into shreds!

Elena. Stop. He isn’t yours.

Tell that to my body.

Annoyance rises, with him for being Romeo to my Juliet, with myself for daydreaming about him all week, and finally with Giselle for being part of something that’s always been mine.

“You should totally call her,” I snap.

Jack’s nose flares, his eyes glittering. “I will. Thanks.”

“She’s right up your alley.”

“Really. Glad you know what I like.”

“VIP-room perfection,” I say curtly.

A muscle pops in Jack’s jaw. “Elena . . . ,” he starts but stops, his face like granite.

We stare at each other, and the air around us feels tight.

Giselle frowns, looking from me to Jack. “Uh, is everything okay?”

“Fine,” I scoff.

Topher clears his throat. “Nice evening out. Wonder if it will rain?”

I could throw out a weatherman comment, but I bite my tongue and force myself to keep my lips zipped.

How is he able to bring out this childish side of me?

I’m acting like a jealous girlfriend—and that is not what I am!

But ever since I heard about Ms. Clark at the beauty shop, it’s been stewing.

And he just said he’d call her.

And obviously, he probably hasn’t even thought about me again.

A long exhalation leaves Jack’s chest, and he murmurs that he wants to go talk to Laura. He turns and leaves, his back stiff and tense.

“Well, that went great,” I mutter.

Later, after Laura has given some brief instructions about rehearsal dates and times and introduced everyone, the cast settles in chairs at a long table. Read-through time.

Jack sits next to me, the heat of his leg close to mine. I scoot over to give him more space.

He shook every hand in the place before we sat down. A couple of people asked for autographs, and he signed their playbooks. I tried to not watch him, but it feels impossible. He’s the kind of man people stare at. He’s earnest and kind when he talks to them and not at all cocky. Once or twice, though, I caught a red flush on his cheeks when people got close to him, and it makes me wonder . . .

Patrick sits on the other side of me, playing Tybalt, Juliet’s cousin. Topher sits directly across from me, playing the sparkling Mercutio. Giselle occupies a spot at the end of the table, head down, glasses perched on her nose as she thumbs through the playbook. Ms. Clark plays the prince, although in this case, since the play has a majority of male roles, it’s princess. Suits her, I think, watching as she reapplies her lipstick as she sits directly across from Jack. She keeps reaching over the table and touching his arm, commenting how much she loves football and the Tigers.

Please.

Control yourself, Elena.

Devon is at the back of the gym, shooting hoops with Timmy.

“Let’s start and see how far we get tonight with a read through,” Laura announces with a smile. “Scene one starts with Sampson and Gregory from the house of Capulet. It’s fun and snappy. Tybalt enters, and he’s ready for a fight.”

Patrick laughs. “I’ll try to be angry. We could end the play early if I just tell them about loving your neighbor and all.”

Laura raises her head and smiles, her eyes drifting over his face. “You’ll be great, Patrick.”

I arch my brow.