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“There’s nothing we can say to get you to go up there?” says Ari. “You might like it?”

“Nothing,” says Quint. “I have many enviable talents, but singing is not one of them.”

“Me, either,” I say.

Quint gives me a look. “Maybe not, but you were pretty cute up there all the same.”

I go still. In fact, we all go still. Except Quint, who picks up his spoon and starts trying to fish out one of the cherries from his glass. His tone was casual, but now he’s staring at that cherry like it’s made of solid gold.

“Thanks,” I say. “That’s nice of you to say. If also faintly condescending.”

He spins toward me, horrified. “It was a compliment!”

“And I said thank you.” I grin to let him know I’m teasing. I feel bright, like I’ve been lit up on the inside.Cute.He thinks I’m cute… at least when I sing. My heart is tap-dancing in my chest. Maybe I should do another song tonight after all. “Cute is nice. It’s notgreat.I mean, you could have said that I was radiant. Or…” I search for another adjective. “Fetching.But cute is okay. Could be worse.”

“‘Fetching’?” he says slowly. “Honestly, Prudence, there are times when I wonder if you might be a time-traveler from a different century.”

I laugh. “The old-fashioned name gave it away?”

“Maybe a little,” says Quint.

Jude loudly clears his throat.

Quint and I both startle and look over at Jude and Ari. They’re staring at us—Jude looks mildly embarrassed. Ari has a hand pressed over her mouth, but she can’t conceal her impish smile.

Jude gestures at a table that just opened up across from our booth. “Should Ari and I give you some privacy or…?”

I flush. Quint laughs, but it’s tinged with discomfort.

“Welcome to Karaoke Tuesday at Encanto!” Trish howls into the microphone, and even though most of the restaurant patrons ignore her and continue on with their conversations, the four of us are more than happy to give her our full attention. Like last time, Trish explains how karaoke night works, then kicks things off by singing Shania Twain’s “Man! I Feel Like a Woman.”

She’s good. Really good. Her voice is powerful and raw, her presence hypnotizing. At one point I glance toward the bar and see Carlos leaning over the counter, a dish towel forgotten in his hand. He’s watching Trish with what could almost be categorized as a dreamy stare.

I reach across the table and nudge Ari, then point. When she sees Carlos, she claps her hands over her heart, swooning.

Always eager to see love, no matter where or when, or who. Even if Carlos has beenherolder-man crush for months, I can tell she’d be thrilled to see him find someone.

That’s one thing I adore about Ari. She finds so much happiness in the joys of others.

Trish finishes the song to enthusiastic applause from the audience. She does do a good job of warming up the crowd, I have to give her that.

Next up is a guy who sings a hip-hop song I’m not familiar with, followed by a man and woman who perform a saucy duet. They’re all pretty good. Not great, but not bad. The songs have been fun and they’ve all done their best to work the crowd.

Then Trish calls Ari to the stage, and suddenly, I’m nervous for her. Ari’s voice might be beautiful, but her stage presence is… less impressive.

I hold my breath, silently rooting for her as she takes hold of the microphone.

The music opens with a melancholy guitar riff.

And Ari starts to sing.

The song is, indeed, haunting and lyrical, and Ari’s voice is captivating. My heart swells with pride, to see her, to hear her. I can’t wait until the day that it’shersongs people are belting out through that microphone.

“She’s really good,” whispers Quint.

“I know,” I say, wondering if the tiny twist in my stomach is envy. Except, thinking it only brings back Quint’s earlier words… that I’mcute.Grinning, I lean closer to him. “Some would call her fetching.”

He meets my eye. A shared smile. A shared joke.