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I blink, momentarily startled. "How did you?—"

"Catherine's been posting ceremony highlights on Instagram," Jessica explains. "Including a very interesting shot of the wedding party at the altar. You think we wouldn't notice the way Tall, Dark, and Stormy looked at you?"

Heat rises to my cheeks as I make a mental note to check Catherine's social media posts. "He was not looking at me in anyparticular way," I protest, the lie transparent even to my own ears.

"Honey," Maya says with exaggerated patience, "that man was eye-fucking you so hard I'm surprised you didn't get pregnant from across the altar."

The crude but not entirely inaccurate assessment draws a reluctant laugh from me. "You're exaggerating."

"We are not," Jessica insists. "Now spill. What's happening with Hot Storm Chaser? And don't you dare say 'nothing' because your face is already telling us otherwise."

I hesitate, caught between the urge to share with the friends who understand this part of me and the desire to protect something that still feels fragile, precious, too new for outside examination. But these women have been with me through years of dating disasters, professional triumphs, and personal doubts. If anyone deserves the truth, it's them.

"Something... is definitely happening," I admit finally, unable to keep the smile from spreading across my face.

"I KNEW IT!" Jessica crows triumphantly. "The second you described him at the rehearsal dinner, I told you he was giving off major Daddy Dom energy!"

"Details," Christine demands, leaning closer to her camera. "We need specifics. How did it start? What happened? Is he a Daddy?"

The direct questions send heat flooding my face as memories of last night flash vividly through my mind. Matt's hands pinning my wrists, his voice dropping to that commanding register as he outlined his rules, the feel of his palm against my skin as he delivered the discipline I'd been unconsciously craving.

"Earth to Jackie," Jessica prods, obviously enjoying my flustered state. "You've gone completely red, which tells us everything."

I take a deep breath, gathering my thoughts. "It started during the storm yesterday," I begin, deciding to share the emotional connection rather than explicit details. "We got trapped at the venue when roads flooded. Spent hours talking, really talking, beyond the wedding small talk. He's... perceptive. Sees through my professional persona in a way that should be terrifying but somehow isn't."

"And?" Maya prompts, clearly expecting more salacious details.

"And yes, he's a Daddy," I admit, the confession sending a pleasant shiver through me even now. "Not in an overbearing or controlling way, but confident, assured. He knows what he wants and isn't afraid to say it directly."

"Did you sleep with him?" Christine asks, never one to dance around the point.

The blunt question would normally make me deflect with humor or vague non-answers. But something about Matt, about what's developing between us, makes honesty feel more natural than evasion even with my typically nosy friends.

"Yes," I confess simply. "Last night. We fell asleep together, we did not have sex. And it was... transformative."

The single adjective, chosen carefully from many possibilities, speaks volumes to women who read and discuss the same romance novels I do, who understand the fantasy of finding someone who sees and accepts all aspects of yourself, including the parts usually kept hidden.

"Oh my god," Jessica breathes, eyes wide. "You found your real-life Johnathon Trivalta."

I laugh at the reference to the hero of our most recently discussed book, a dominant CEO with a penchant for discipline and deep emotional wounds that only the heroine could heal. "Not exactly. Matt's more... grounded. Less dramatic. The dominance isn't a power play or control issue. It's aboutcreating clarity, structure. A safe space where boundaries and expectations are explicit rather than assumed."

"Even better," Maya declares. "The fictional ones always have too many red flags anyway. So is this just a wedding fling, or...?"

The question cuts to the heart of what's been occupying my thoughts since our morning conversation.

"I don't know yet," I answer honestly. "We've talked about after the wedding. About him being based in Charlotte when not on assignment, about making time when our schedules align. It seems... possible. But complicated."

"Complicated how?" Christine asks, her expression turning more serious. "Because of the distance when he's working, or because of deeper concerns?"

The perceptive question, cutting past logistics to potential emotional barriers, is why I value these friendships despite their occasionally overwhelming enthusiasm.

"Both," I admit. "The practical challenges of his travel schedule, certainly. But also... I've never done this before. Allowed someone to see past the professional exterior to the messy, contradictory person underneath. It's terrifying."

"But worth it?" Maya asks gently.

I consider the question seriously, weighing the emotional risks against the profound connection I've experienced with Matt in just a few days.

"Yes," I say finally, surprising myself with the certainty in my voice. "Worth it in a way I didn't expect."