At one point, Matt leaned across the table, his voice low but pointed. “Ruthie, I expect you to save me a dance tonight. Or maybe that’s what your… guest is here for?” His smirk sent a chill down her spine.
Noah’s hand found hers under the table, his fingers steadying her trembling ones. “She’s in good hands.” His gaze locked with Matt’s.
Matt’s smirk faltered, but he quickly covered it with another swig of wine, his laugh louder than necessary.
As dessert was served, Noah leaned closer to Ruth, his voice low and reassuring. “You’re handling this like a pro,” he murmured. “But if you need an excuse to step away, just say the word.”
