Now I’m standing in the middle of Porter’s with a drink that’s mostly melted ice, and a knot forms low in my ribs tightening between pride and terror.
The last two months ran smoothly. No major bugs in the final beta, even after onboarding more users than I’d planned. Instead of waiting for the perfect moment, I jumped. It’s the second most terrifying thing I’ve ever done. The first is standing right beside me, smiling down at me.
Miles and Rylee turned Porter’s into a small launch party—balloons, a banner, food, drinks, and a room full of people who know exactly how much work this took. My mom keeps telling me how proud she is, then immediately turns to the nearest person to explain just how incredible her daughter is. Miles’s parents, his sisters, and their husbands drift through the crowd, chatting easily with everyone.
It’s… a lot. In the best possible way.
All night, Miles stays close, his hand warm at the small of my back because he knows I’m hovering between I built this and please don’t let it crash in the next five minutes. Rylee refills glasses and gently herds people toward the demo screen like a publicist who believes in the product a little too much.
Jake pauses mid-wipe behind the bar and catches my eye. “Good job.” He slides my drink onto a cardboard coaster. “Don’t forget to use that.”
I laugh—because of course that’s his version of congratulations. And somehow, it means more than any long-winded speech ever could.
OneDate started as a way to fake date your way through awkward events. But tonight, my very own fake date is one hundred percent real. And while OneDate was never meant to help anyone find love, sometimes love sneaks up on you anyway. And that’s okay too.
What was supposed to be a low-key celebration, home by ten, turns into something else entirely. Someone orders shots while someone else queues up music. Laughter spills into every corner of Porter’s. One drink becomes three, and three becomes how is it already last call?
By the time Miles gets us back to his place, my feet ache, my voice is wrecked, and my head is pleasantly foggy with happiness and exhaustion. And now I get to spend the night curled up against the man I love.
The next morning, I wake to the smell of coffee and something sweet, warm, and maple-y. I crack one eye open and find Miles standing beside the bed, holding a tray like a hot chef seconds away from feeding me breakfast.
“Morning.” He flashes me his half lazy smile.
I stretch and prop myself up on my elbows. “How are you awake right now?”
He laughs as he sets the tray down, and my attention immediately shifts to pancakes, eggs, and bacon. “I didn’t finish a bottle of tequila. You earned this. Last night was kind of a big deal.”
I smile as we sit back against the headboard, the quiet of the morning settling around us. We eat shoulder to shoulder. Halfway through my plate, my fork slows when my body officially hits its limit.
“I can’t eat anymore.” I set my plate on the tray beside him.
Miles glances over, already more than halfway through his own. “Really? I’m still hungry.”
I eye his plate pointedly. “Good thing you still have food.”
His gaze lifts to mine, playfulness sparking there. “Not that kind.”
Before I can respond, his finger dips into the syrup and traces a slow line along my collarbone.
“Miles,” I warn, already smiling.
“Oops.” His grin makes it clear he’s not sorry at all.
He leans down. His tongue following the line of syrup, slow and deliberate. Heat curls low in my stomach. Somewhere in the movement, the tray tilts, and our abandoned breakfast hits the floor.
I gasp, laughing. “The carpet?—”
“I’ll clean it up later.” He’s already climbing on top of me, his voice lower. “Right now, I’ve got more important things to take care of.”
And I let him.
Two orgasms later, Miles’s mouth is warm against my neck. I loop my arms around his shoulders. “I’m officially a big fan of naked yoga.”
“And you were skeptical at first.” He presses a kiss just below my ear.
His phone vibrates on the nightstand. We both freeze.
“Who is it?” I ask.
