KARA

Cass was on his third glass, staring into it like it might hold the meaning of life.

I watched from across the room, tucked into the corner of the reception bar. A group of women hovered nearby, waiting—eager, even—for a sliver of his attention. He didn’t notice. Or maybe he just didn’t care.

This was the first time I’d seen him since that night.

The night I slapped him.

The night he left.

And if fate had only granted me this one window to say something—anything—I had to take it. Even if all I got was closure.

The reception was in full swing when I made my move. I approached the bar, sliding onto the stool directly across from him. It felt strangely like déjà vu—the same electric hum of silence, the same locked eyes from that very first night.

Only this time, the light in his eyes was gone.

He looked up briefly—then looked away, back to his drink. His jaw was tighter now. Shoulders broader. Sadness clung to him like a second skin.

I started to rise, unsure whether I was intruding.

But before I could step back, he moved—rounded the bar and took the seat beside me.

I eased back down onto the stool.

He spoke first.

“Eli finally called in his favor today,” he said, glancing at me, glass still in hand.

Ah. That bet. The one he made with Eli over a year ago.

“I take it Eli won?” I asked lightly. What I wanted to say was: So you did fall in love with me?

“You don’t see me driving a Porsche, do you?” he muttered, staring ahead. The muscle in his jaw ticked. He was annoyed.

I knew that tone. I’d hit a nerve.

So I backed off. I hadn’t come to poke old wounds.

“What did he ask for?” I asked gently.

He downed nearly the rest of his drink, then turned to me.

“He wanted me to ask a girl to dance.”

I blinked. “Is that why you came over?”

His mouth twitched. That familiar glint returned to his eyes—like a spark catching flame.

“His favor expired a week ago,” he said, finally looking at me full-on.

“Would you like to dance?” I asked, before he could.

He didn’t answer.

He just stood, took my hand, and led me to the dance floor.

The room faded away. Every eye turned toward us, but I didn’t care. Neither did Eli and Erin—who, judging by their faces, had been hoping this moment would happen.

He placed one hand on my waist, the other wrapped gently around mine. We moved slowly to the music, a slow orbit of two people who had once been planets apart.

I rested my head on his shoulder, leaned in close to his ear.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered.

“You’re forgiven,” he replied instantly.

I pulled back just enough to look into his face. “That easy?”

“I guess… because I understood why you did what you did. And I’m sorry, too. For what happened to your sister.”

A lump rose in my throat.

“I shouldn’t have blamed you,” I said. “She’d struggled with her mental health for years. I knew that. Deep down, I just didn’t want to face it. It was easier to make you the villain.”

“You didn’t know about the restraining order,” he said quietly.

“Even if I did… that was no excuse.”

“To break my heart,” he said, finishing the thought with a small, sad smile.

“I guess I had it coming,” he added. “After the way I used to be. You should’ve seen me.”

“I did.”

Oops. Shouldn’t have said that.

He raised an eyebrow. “Ah, right. The watching.”

I laughed, then froze as he said the next part:

“I was watching you too.”

“What?”

“You didn’t notice, but I saw you. Before that night at the bar. Before Eli made the bet. Every night, I’d catch this girl with the most beautiful brown eyes watching me. You’d always look away. Except that night—you didn’t. And I knew then… you were dangerous.”

He leaned in closer, voice lower.

“I knew I’d get burned if I got too close.”

The song ended.

But we didn’t move.

His hand found my hair. Mine found his chest. We were still pressed together, the whole room holding its breath around us.

I started to step away—terrified I was falling into his orbit again, back into the gravity of the Cassanova I once tried to resist.

But he didn’t let go.

He held my hand. Pulled me gently back.

I looked up.

He didn’t speak.

His lips did.

They crashed into mine like a promise.

And I knew—whatever fire we’d once started—

We weren’t finished yet.