“Imagine if you dorks would have just done that from the beginning instead of making this dumb bet,” Morgan said with an I-told-you-so look at the three oldest cousins.

Dixon flipped her off. “Because then I wouldn’t have met Fiona.”

Griff flashed his cousin a smug grin. “Kinsey would have still been Morgan’s roommate.”

“But she never would have had a reason to pity date you,” Dixon shot back.

Everyone at the table turned and looked at him.

“Grandma worked in mysterious ways,” Nash said, not ready yet to let his cousins and siblings in on what was really going with him and Chelle, because he wasn’t sure himself. “Don’t think she didn’t have a plan for you three. The younger cousins aren’t getting away unscathed.”

“No fucking way,” Morgan said with a vehemence that left absolutely no doubt about how she felt. “There’s no way I’m joining your Last Man Standing bet.”

Macon and Bristol nodded in agreement as they finished their breakfasts. After that, there was the usual fight for the check—one Nash always won because, while the rest of them were arguing amongst themselves, he had already given his credit card to the waitress before they’d even ordered. He took care of things. That’s just what he did.

“So, here’s the book I was telling you about,” he told Macon as they pulled on their coats and walked toward the diner’s door behind the rest of the cousins. “You need to read it right away.”

“You know,” Macon said as he took the thick stack of paper, “normally the author emails these things. No book agent gets an actual printed manuscript anymore.”

“Yeah, well, it’s important to take screen breaks.” It was all true—and it was the perfect way to cover up the fact that he couldn’t email the files to his brother because the files Chelle had sent were protected against anyone sharing them, if not printing. “You know, too much screen time can lead to eye strain, fatigue, and headaches.”

His younger brother rolled his eyes. “Thank you, Dr. Nash.”

“I’m just looking out for you.” The as always went unsaid.

“And Chelle now, too.” Macon ran his thumb across the edge of the stack, curving the pages’ edges. “Does she know you’re sharing it with me?”

“It’s for her own good. She’s really talented.” All true.

His brother shook his head and muttered something that sounded a lot like you dumb fuck before saying, “Brother to brother, I have to tell you, you’re walking on thin ice here. Writers are weird about sharing their work before they’re ready.”

Nash opened the diner door and walked out behind his brother into the cold, overcast December afternoon. “It’s ready.”