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“I made up for it later at least.” His hand slides across the seat to clasp mine and my heart nearly stops.

“Fine. I guess I can overlook your bad manners after the whole candy shop stunt.”

He brings my hand to his face, his lips brushing over it in a whisper of a touch as he says, “So we’re closing the book on the gummy worm-fueled hatred?”

I can’t pull my eyes away as he drags kisses across the top of each knuckle. “Slammed shut.” My heart pounds as I open my palm and press it against his cheek. Finally, I pour out something I’ve held in since I met him. “Have I ever told you how handsome you are?”

He shakes his head, his eyes locked on mine.

“You are, Decker. You’re handsome and sweet and part of me wishes this whole thing were?—”

The car brakes, jolting my words to a halt.

I look out the window. Of course, we’re already at the gala.

Before I can finish my sentence, our door is being thrown open.

Decker gives me one last lingering look, and then he’s gripping my hand, guiding me down the shortest red carpet known to man.

Tonight is not as much about who the guests are as it is about the charities and how much attention these guests can bring to them.

It feels incredibly intimate for a red carpet event, and that’s fine by me.

We pose side by side, smiling and laughing—genuinely laughing—for the cameras.

He kisses the top of my head for one picture, and our audience erupts.

The next thing I know, he’s lowering his face to mine, his green eyes searching for approval before I answer him with a chaste kiss on the lips.

This does nothing but make my pulse and the decibels in the vicinity climb as photographers shout our names, asking for more angles of the “lovebirds.” My racing heart is enough to keep me moving.

I grab his hand and lead him inside the old theater, wanting to keep him all for myself, but knowing I can’t.

The venue is one of my favorite Vista City landmarks.

It’s breathtaking. Art deco designs and lush rugs surround us.

Hand-painted walls and ceilings guide us further into the impressive space.

I smile and wave as we rush through the crowd, Decker still trailing behind, a dreamy grin pasted across his lips as his eyes dart from our surroundings to me.

It’s been so long since we discussed it, I almost forgot that the whole reason he’s here with me now is because I burned up part of his retirement investment.

The one that was supposed to fund his purpose: giving care and finding homes for the creatures he’s most passionate about.

It makes my chest ache to think that not only did I damage a tiny piece of history that night at the music hall, but a piece that Decker wanted for his own.

I’d buy him a million places just like Gable’s if it would make him happy.

I’d even buy him a place for his shelter if he’d let me.

Before I can stop myself, I’m whirling to face him in a flurry of pink satin and pressing my lips to his again in a quick peck.

I turn back around, carting him toward the ballroom where the event will be held, but I only make it three steps before he’s yanking me back and spinning me to face him.

Our eyes lock before his head dips and he drops a quick kiss right back on my lips.

A crooked smile is pasted across his mouth when he pulls away.

My pulse accelerates as I pivot back toward our destination. “We need to find our table. Don’t want you to miss your speech.”

If I look back now and meet his eyes again, I’m afraid I won’t be able to control myself.

So, I blaze a path through the tables, not sparing a single glance over my shoulder.

Decker marches along behind me until I realize I probably look like a child lugging her doll around.

Dropping his hand, I slow up, join him at his side, and loop my arm through his.

I spot our table. My mother stands, followed by my dad as we approach. Decker draws in a deep breath as he closes in on them. It’s cute that he’s nervous.

“Decker, this is my dad, Roger.” I unhook our arms and he steps forward, exchanging a firm handshake with my dad. “And you’ve met my mother, of course.”

“Of course. You two look great.” Decker beams.

"I could say the same to you two," Dad chimes in. "And I’ll be honest with ya, Deck—" I die a little at the nickname. "I haven’t seen Lena-Love glow like this in… I don’t know—maybe ever." He lowers his voice. “Her job can be pretty demanding.”

Endearing is not typically a word I use to describe my father, but I always find it cute that he continues to refer to my hectic career as a “job,” like it’s any other nine-to-five.

To be honest, these days I wish my schedule were as predictable as a 9:00 a.m. start and a 5:00 p.m. finish.

But I know how fortunate I am to have a job some only dream of.

I’m also fortunate that to my father I’m still his little Lena-Love.

I’m not the girl on the stage, I’m not a paycheck, I’m simply his daughter.

I smile at him, knowing he means well, but also hating that my faux-glow is fooling even him.

Decker and my dad chat it up while I stuff my face with hors d'oeuvres in an attempt to absorb some of the champagne.

Bonus: If I keep my mouth full, I don't have to answer any probing questions or engage in any Super Bowl talk with my mother.

A waiter in a white button-up and black bowtie drops off a salad, and I pick at it as my mother engages in a conversation with some other local philanthropist. Antonia is happily chatting with some local politicians across the room, and Gustav has stationed himself near the door, but even he seems distracted.

As much as I want to catch up with my dad, I don’t want to interrupt his conversation with Decker.

Both of them are fully engaged, smiling and laughing, only breaking when Dad needs a sip of his scotch.

Decker sneaks me a wink and warmth spreads across my exposed decollete.

I dip my head, digging into my salad and wondering if anyone else notices the flush.

The two of them continue on and the butterflies in my belly multiply tenfold as Decker politely excuses himself when someone on stage summons him to the podium.

He leans down and pecks my cheek, drawing it out a little longer than necessary before climbing the handful of steps toward the microphone.

When the applause stops, he flashes that million-dollar smile and starts in about his passion for The Vista City Rescue Society.

I’m completely enamored with him, along with everyone else in the room.

His passion for these animals is palpable, and I find myself wishing I were something he talked about that dearly.

Which is kind of weird—to want to be spoken about in the same way as an animal rescue.

But I know he loves it, and deep down, though I know it could never work between us—because of our careers and the timing and the fact that it’s too soon for me to seriously consider dating for real and about a thousand other reasons—I kind of wish he could love me too.

And then his eyes flash to where I sit. My breath catches in my throat at the sudden shift in the room as everyone turns my way.

Decker hones in on me, his full lips parting into a smile that would make anyone weak.

Everyone falls away as he wraps up his speech.

“And I want to acknowledge you, Lena. If anyone deserves an award for their devotion to helping others, it’s you.

Our time together has changed me—my life—for the better in unimaginable ways, and I have you to thank for that.

” His eyes lock with mine a split second longer before dragging back across the crowd, leaving me melting in my seat as a collective awww sounds throughout the ballroom.

Though he’s moved on to address everyone else, I can’t take my eyes off him.

A tapping sound pulls my attention. I turn to find my mom reaching across the table, a fork poised between her fingers as she raps it against the floral centerpiece between us.

I yank the fork from her, and she smiles gleefully, her voice a loud whisper. “Did you tell him to include you in the speech?”

I shake my head, trying to keep the annoyance from shadowing my features.

Her eyes light up. “Brilliant move on his part. People will eat that up.”

I try to reciprocate her smile, but I know why she’s glowing.

Because the fact that he mentioned me will only fuel the rumors after our impending breakup.

Deep down, I know that Decker didn’t do it for that purpose, but the doubt still slithers in.

What if he did? What if his words were just another way to ensure he’s set once we go our separate ways?

He gives his final thank you for the award and lopes back to our table, sliding into his seat next to me and giving my hand a light squeeze.

When he smiles at me, any uncertainty drifts away.

Decker wouldn’t do that to me. He can be strategic, but he’s not manipulative.

We may be headed for a breakup, but it isn’t tonight.

We still have time. The butterflies in my belly kick up speed, turning into something far more aggressive than those irritating little bugs I’ve gotten so used to over the past couple of months.