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“You like that?” I ask.

“So much.” A soft smile spreads across her face. “Do you think they’d notice if I stay barefoot the rest of the reception?”

“Declan and Winona? They wouldn’t notice if the building caught on fire. It’s a little cold out for bare feet, though.”

She sighs. “You’re right.”

“Here,” I say. “Give me the other one.”

She swaps feet and says, “Careful Delaney, I might propose so I can have you do this the rest of my life.”

My eyes remain on her foot. I rub with a careful pressure, kneading to get the soreness to release.

“Better?” I ask, carefully setting her foot down and standing to my full height.

“You have no idea,” she says. “You can play sardines with me anytime, QB.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” I say, opening the door and stepping into the hallway.

Cass slips into her shoes and joins me.

About an hour later, the guests and wedding party line the front walkway, Declan and Winona run out between us while we hold sparklers overhead. They drive away in the limo.

Cass turns to me. “Well. We did it.”

“Yep,” I say, nodding.

I know she’s talking about us. This is my moment.

Cass smiles up at me. “Glad that's over.”

Her face doesn’t look glad. Her smile isn’t the easygoing one I’m used to. It’s not the sassy one either. There’s a ghost of regret in her eyes. Does she regret ever agreeing to this? I wouldn’t blame her. We’ve had to deceive our friends and family. And for what? My reputation? Better endorsement deals? At least Porch Light benefitted. But still …

I put my hand on her back. “Come with me, Cass.”

Her face scrunches up, but she doesn’t resist me.

I pull her away from the crowd of guests who are mingling around the walkway. Some are getting ready to leave.

“I don't want to end this,” I tell her before she can say anything.

“Oh, we're ending this,” she says.

“No.” I shake my head, running my hand through my hair. “I mean ... I want to date you. For real.”

“You …” Her brows draw in. Her eyes flit between mine.

“I like you, Cass. I like us. I want to see where things can go between us.” I step closer, afraid she’s going to make a break for it. She still looks confused.

“Like an experiment?” she asks.

“No. Like dating you. Because I know what I want. And I want you.”

“You want to date me?” she asks, obviously still in disbelief.

Have I been that hard to read? I just sought her out to give her a foot rub in a room the size of a casket.

“Yes.” I hold her gaze, hoping something in the way I’m looking at her convinces her of how serious I am.