Mateo’s eyebrow climbed even farther up his forehead. “When I get up there, people have expectations. Then they either think I suck, and I’ve let them down, or they’re impressed, and they want me to do ten more songs. Of course, sometimes people have no idea who I am, but feel the need to approach me and tell me I should be a singer, and then it’s awkward, like ‘Well, actually…’” He shrugged. “I’d prefer to avoid all that.”

“Yeah, that makes sense. Although I still hope you’ll sing tonight? With just your friends around?”

Mateo avoided the question with a shrug. “What about you? Do you like karaoke?”

“Sure, it’s fun. Lynn loves it too. I get up there with her sometimes. She always wants to duet ‘Paradise by the Dashboard Light.’”

To Archer’s delight, Mateo laughed at that. “Excellent song choice. That would be fun for karaoke.”

“Maybe you’ll sing it with me tonight?” Archer wanted to kick himself as soon as he said it. What the fuck was he thinking, asking to duet with Mateo Dixon?

Mateo studied him for a moment. “Maybe.”

“I mean … you don’t have to,” Archer backtracked. “I’m not that good.”

“I don’t care how good you are,” Mateo said. “And you’re right, it will be different with friends.”

“Okay,” Archer said. “If you want to.” He took a deep breath and tried to relax. Their legs touched the rest of the trip.

Mrs. C dropped them off in the square by the general store, and they went in there first to get a card, snacks, and decorations. Their next stop was the vintage boutique to pick out a gift. Archer found a kimono cardigan he knew Betty would love—black with pink flowers—and Mateo bought her a straw hat with a pink band that matched the cardigan.

Finally, the Hallfield bakery. Archer hadn’t been inside the last time, but he remembered the mouthwatering smell from when he walked by. The place was packed with sweaty tourists, giving them plenty of time to browse the cases while they waited for their turn. As per Hallfield’s claim to fame, there was a whole display case of pies. Archer hovered, trying not to drool.

“Does Betty like blueberry pie?” Mateo asked with a playful nudge. “Or is this for you?”

Archer chuckled. “I’m tempted! But you’re right, let’s look at the cupcakes.” Archer took Mateo’s arm and pulled him over to the next display case, which proved an effective distraction from the pies.

There were at least ten different types of cupcakes of all colors of the rainbow. Archer hemmed and hawed, trying to make up his mind. “Chocolate fudge, vanilla cream, strawberry cheesecake … Oh, man, how do we choose?” he moaned.

“Easy,” Mateo said, nodding at the worker waiting to take their order. “We get some of each.”