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I paste on a smile and focus on the hosts.

“And then you went on a date at a local steak place?” Bradley asks.

“It was a blind date,” I say. “My sister and Marcus’s friend, Declan, who is also my sister’s fiancé, set us up.”

“That’s so romantic,” Lauren says.

Marcus lifts his hand off my knee and wraps it around my shoulder.

“Romantic doesn’t begin to describe our relationship,” he says, looking at Lauren with this smile that seems to convey a Hollywood-level infatuation exists between us.

“It doesn’t, does it?” I say, turning and smiling up at Marcus.

“You two,” Lauren says. “I love this for you.”

“So, tell us a bit about Porch Light,” Bradley says. “Our viewers love that the two of you share a passion for community outreach.”

“We do,” Marcus answers before I get a chance to say anything. He straightens as if he’s really proud of me and the outreach we’re doing. “Cass dreamed up the entire project. She pursued everything it took to go nonprofit, to get the town’s approval … every step can be credited to her and her vision and hard work.”

I’m stunned. He’s giving me credit.

“I just want to support the town of Waterford,” he says, looking down at me with faux fondness. “Waterford is the home of our practice facility. I believe it’s good to give back to the community, especially to those with needs for services and resources they can’t afford.”

“That’s a cause close to your heart. Isn’t it, Marcus?” Bradley asks.

Marcus glances over at me. The grip he has on my upper arm tightens just the slightest. Then he looks at Bradley, and his Adam’s apple bobs on a swallow before answering.

“I was raised by a single mom,” Marcus says. “She worked two jobs. As cliché as that sounds, it’s a reality for a lot of women. And my mom, who is my hero to this day, did what she could to feed and clothe the five of us. I was the oldest, so I pitched in where I could. But I had to rely on donations for a lot of things that other kids took for granted—including sports equipment, enrollment and other fees for football.”

I had no idea. How did I not know Marcus came from a lower-income, single-parent home?

I’ve watched him in interviews before. I’ve never heard him talk about his background. I just knew he grew up in Mississippi and he and Treyvon were friends since at least high school.

“We’re grateful to those donors who helped you out,” Bradley says. “If not for them, you might not have made it this far.”

“I definitely owe them a debt of gratitude. That’s why I pay it forward when I can.”

I feel like someone threw a bucket of ice water at me. Or like I’ve been in a dark room and someone flicked on the lights. Marcus Delaney does charity because he grew up without the privileges so many kids take for granted.

Is he bossy? Yes.

Sometimes full of himself? I’m not even sure anymore.

But there are definitely layers to Marcus I never saw. I don’t have a spot in my brain to sort through this new information—not now when the studio lights are aimed at me and a camera is rolling live footage of us out to half of Tennessee.

I grin through my confusion, placing my hand on Marcus’s knee, mostly to anchor myself, but partly, to tell him I’m here. I see him. Maybe for the first time ever.

I try to focus on the questions Bradley is asking Marcus. My head swims. The warmth of Marcus’s leg seeps into my palm.

I stare at Lauren and Bradley in an attempt to keep my mind on the interview.

Lauren smiles softly at Marcus. “And you bought your mom a house the first year you were in the NFL, is that right?”

What? He did what?

“Yeah. I did,” Marcus says.

I shift so I can study him more fully. A slight blush rises up his cheeks. It’s barely noticeable. Lots of NFL players give back to their families when they get their first paychecks. And plenty don’t.