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Except for the moments when my eyes meet Matt's across the altar.

Brief, electric connections that last only seconds but carry the weight of shared secrets and anticipation. Each time it happens, each time his gaze finds mine, heat blooms in my chest and spreads outward, a physical reaction to the emotional connection that's becoming increasingly difficult to hide.

During the recessional, as we pair up to follow the newly married couple down the aisle, Matt offers his arm with perfect ceremony-appropriate formality. But his fingers press briefly against mine as I take it, a subtle gesture invisible to everyone else that sends awareness racing along my nerve endings.

"Beautiful ceremony," he murmurs, voice pitched for my ears alone. "Though not as beautiful as you look in that dress, Sunshine."

"Thank you," I whisper back. “Daddy.” I wonder if the word will throw him off balance. I say it in part to tease him, in part to try it out. It feels good. Natural.

His step falters slightly, the only indication that my deliberate use of the title has affected him as intended. His answering smile holds a private meaning that warms me from within. "I like how that sounds coming from your sweet lips, Sunshine. I can’t wait for you to hear what I'm thinking about doing to you later."

The promise in his voice sends heat pooling low in my belly, a reaction completely at odds with the formal wedding setting and the dozens of eyes on the wedding party as we process out of the garden.

Professional Jackie would deflect such comments with practiced ease, maintaining appropriate boundaries even during harmless flirtation. But last night changed something betweenMatt and me, crossed a line that makes standard deflections seem dishonest, unnecessary.

"Looking forward to it, Daddy," I murmur instead, so quietly the words are barely audible.

When he glances down at me, the heat in his eyes makes promises that have nothing to do with wedding traditions and everything to do with what will happen when our official duties are complete.

The hours that follow are a blur. Formal photographs in the garden, managing reception logistics, ensuring Catherine's needs are met. Brides forget to eat, I make sure she gets plenty. Matt maintains an appropriate distance throughout, fulfilling his best man duties with the same focused attention he brings to everything. But even across a crowded room, I feel his gaze tracking my movements, his body angled toward mine even in separate conversations, his attention never fully absent despite our physical separation.

It's during the father-daughter dance, as I stand at the edge of the dance floor with the other bridesmaids, that my phone buzzes in the hidden pocket of my dress.

Maya: REMINDER: Book club in 30 mins! We'll wait for you if you're running late. Topic: "Dangerous Desires" Chapter 8-12. CANNOT WAIT to hear your updates too!

I stifle a groan, having completely forgotten our monthly video chat in the wedding chaos. Tonight of all nights, when I'd been anticipating finally being alone with Matt, exploring the connection that's been building between us since our morning confessions.

Me: Can we reschedule? In the middle of wedding reception duties.

The response is immediate and unanimous:

Emily: ABSOLUTELY NOT! We've been patient for TWO DAYS waiting for updates on Hot Storm Chaser. We need details!

Christine: You can step away for a couple minutes. Just tell the bride you need to make a call about tomorrow's brunch arrangements or something.

Jessica: If you don't show, we'll assume you're either dead or getting spectacularly laid, and we'll require FULL DETAILS either way.

I sigh, knowing there's no escaping the Naughty Girls when they're in full interrogation mode. These women have been my support system, my confidantes, my safe space to explore fantasies I never expected to experience in reality. They deserve at least a brief appearance, even if I can't share everything that's happened with Matt.

Me: Fine. But I'll need to keep it short.

Their excited responses make me smile despite the complication to my evening plans. Friendship obligations are as real as professional ones, after all.

As the reception shifts into full party mode, the dance floor packed, drinks flowing freely, the newlyweds surrounded by celebrating friends and family, I approach Catherine with my prepared excuse.

"I need to step away for a few minutes and make a call," I tell her. "Do you need anything before I go?"

Catherine, radiant with happiness and possibly a glass of champagne too many, waves dismissively. "Go, go! Everything's perfect. You've done an amazing job, Jackie."

The genuine appreciation in her voice sends a twinge of guilt through me. It's a reminder that our relationship began as a business arrangement despite the authentic connection that's developed. I slip away during a particularly energetic group dance, making my way through the hotel to my room. I have just enough time to freshen my makeup, adjust my hair, and set up my laptop for the video call before the familiar chiming of the Naughty Girls' dedicated chat platform fills the room.

Three faces appear on my screen, all wearing expressions of eager anticipation that would be comical if they weren't so intimidating.

"FINALLY!" Maya exclaims. "We thought you'd ghosted us for Mr. Hurricane Hunter!"

"It's 'storm chaser,' not 'hurricane hunter,'" I correct automatically, settling more comfortably against the headboard. "And I'm at work, remember? Professional boundaries and all that."

"Professional boundaries," Christine repeats with exaggerated air quotes, her dark eyes twinkling with mischief. "Is that what we're calling it when you're making eyes at the best man during the ceremony?"