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“You look beautiful,” Libby’s mom said as she rushed toward her and pulled her into a hug.

Reagan’s mom was right behind her wearing a mischievous grin. “You really do, honey. And don’t worry,”

she paused and beamed, “she doesn’t suspect a thing.”

Libby tried to take a deep breath and steady herself, but it was impossible. Her adrenaline was o the charts.

As her family and Reagan’s all said very nice things Libby couldn’t process, Taylor stuck her head out of the brewery.

“We’re ready.”

Libby’s grandmother reached for her hand. “Come on.

Let’s get one step closer to giving me another little Cassanova.”

As conspicuous of a mob as they were, Libby was shocked no one stared as they walked toward the completely renovated space christened Soto Ceramics. It wasn’t everyday three grandmas, a grandpa, and two sets of parents marched down the street together.

On the way, they passed the formerly empty brick building that was now home to a co ee shop on the first floor and KMQ Matchmaking on the second. It was the more modern wing of the Cassanova empire and helped attract clients who found downtown too stu y. It was still losing more money that it made, but they broke close to even by leasing the ground floor to the co ee shop. Even if it wasn’t flying on its own yet, it was her legacy, something she’d built for herself. Libby was grateful it existed at all. After the initial mass exodus of established clients, she often doubted there would be anything left. Working nonstop to attract new clients and win back a small fraction of the old, they’d

managed to survive with the help of a huge loan from her grandmother she was still paying back.

“Ready?” Reagan’s dad put his arm around her shoulder, his face radiating pride, when the mob stopped in front of the pottery.

Libby glanced at her grandmother, who replied with a curt nod.

“As I’ll ever be,” she decided before opening the heavy metal door.

Instead of stepping directly into the studio, Libby walked into the bri

ghtly lit gallery space where Reagan had started selling her work. With each step toward the back, Libby’s heart raced until it was nearly impossible to breathe.

Against the wall dividing the gallery from the workshop sat handmade lanterns Libby had commissioned under a pseudonym, one for each of them except Libby. Once they were all lit, she texted Taylor. A moment later, the lights went out in the back and music played through a wireless speaker she’d stashed in one of the workstations that morning.

When they stepped through the door, Reagan was standing with her hands on her hips as if trying to figure out why her students were suddenly lighting the lanterns they’d been painting.

As soon as she saw Libby, her eyes widened. Maybe because she didn’t expect her in the middle of the day, or maybe because she was flanked by their candle carrying family like a freaky ritual was about to go down.

“What’s going on?” Reagan asked, her voice husky and barely audible.

Oh good, she’s as terrified as I am.

Libby reached into the pocket of her mustard-colored blazer and pulled out the little box that had caused her such

a headache that day. As soon as Reagan saw it, her wide eyes grew watery.

“Oh my God,” she gasped, putting her hand over her mouth. One of the best things she’d learned about Reagan was her secret love of romantic movies and all things mushy.

The candle lit circle grew larger as Imani, Kimber, Sue, Mary, and Janice emerged from the back followed by Taylor, who was already crying.

Libby reached out and took Reagan’s trembling hand in her own shaky one. “From the moment we met, you turned my life upside down in the most amazing and unexpected ways. I was barely living half a life before you came along and woke me up. You’re the most generous, supportive, loving, and unique soul I’ve ever known.” She flicked the box open with her thumb like she’d practiced a thousand times over the last three months. “I promise to devote my life to loving you and supporting you if you’ll do me the honor of

—”“Yes!” Reagan shouted before she’d finished asking, lunging forward and tackling her in a tight embrace. It was only then that Libby realized she’d been trembling even harder than Reagan as her entire body shook in her arms.

In a fit of nervous laughter, Libby squeezed her back as hard as she could. “Really?”

Reagan wiped her tears. “Yes, really! Let me see the ring!”

As their friends and family cheered and walked in closer to get a look for themselves, Libby placed the white opal that shone with flecks of pink and turquoise on her ring finger.