We’d had the wedding reception at the house, making use of the ballroom.

Yes, it had a ballroom.

The first time I walked into Alnster House, I’d felt Roane watching me anxiously. All I could do was hold his hand and smile reassuringly. That mansion wasn’t him. That’s why he lived in the farmhouse. The house, however, was his legacy, and maybe one day we’d have to move there with our kids, but for now I was getting a huge kick out of redecorating our cozy farmhouse. I’d even convinced Roane to hire an architect so we could start opening up the spaces to make it free flowing and modern.

“It’s ‘Don’t Look Back in Anger,’” I said, tired of listening to the back-and-forth.

My friends stared at me, uncertain.

I huffed, holding up my hand. “Who is the only person here who remembers 1996? Some of us”—I turned to Roane—“had only been walking for, what, two years?”

He smirked.

“And some of us”—I looked at Caro—“were still in diapers.” Then I gestured to Lucas and Viola. “And some of us weren’t even born. God, why am I friends with you? You’re making me old. Put down ‘Don’t Look Back in Anger.’”

“Words to live by,” Viola said pointedly.

“Ha ha.” I rolled my eyes as they grinned at my expense.

“I don’t remember you being this touchy about your age.” Caro tapped a finger against her chin. “I think marrying Roane has made you tetchy about your age.”

Months ago, a joke like that might have fallen flat, but now Roane just winked at me and squeezed me closer.

“I don’t know why.” Vi snorted. “Think about it, Evie. When you’re forty, your husband will still be a hot, young thirtysomething. You’re like my hero.”

Roane chuckled.

“He’s lucky I love him.” I scratched his beard playfully. “Or I would never forgive him for turning me into a cougar.”

“Oh, you’re not a cougar,” Lucas said. “Roane would have to be fifteen years younger rather than ten.”

“He’s six and a half years younger,” I corrected him.

Lucas grinned mischievously. “Oh, is he? My mistake.”

As he and Viola fell against each other laughing, I mock glowered at them. “Why are you home for Christmas again? Just to torture me?”

“No, we’re home so I can have a painfully awkward Christmas dinner with my loving mother and a father who won’t talk to me.” Lucas’s lips twisted into an unhappy smile.

Vi covered his hand with hers. “At least he’s letting you in the house.”

“Aye, because my mam put her foot down. At last.”