“Let him in, Farrah.”

She steps aside and Cohen walks in, Declan following closely behind, but when he spots me, he stops abruptly, his eyes widening.

I smooth down my hair, which I know is fluffed out on the side, and straighten my shirt. “I, uh . . . I haven’t had time to take a shower lately.”

“More like she’s been trying to sniff the essence out of the couch for the last few days.” Farrah imitates me, collapsing on the couch and stuffing her face into it. “She’s vile. I suggest keeping a two-foot radius at all times. I have plastic gloves if you need to touch her.”

“You can leave now, Farrah,” I say.

“No way,” she says. She takes a seat at the kitchen counter and picks up a water glass. “This is going to be some good stuff. I’ve dealt with you for the past week—the least you can do is give me a front-row seat to Cohen eating crow.”

“When did you get so annoying?” Cohen asks.

“Always have been.” Farrah winks and gestures toward the living room. “Go on, tell her you were being bitchy.”

Ignoring her, Cohen comes closer and sits on the couch across from me. Hope springs in my chest at just the sight of him.

“Hey,” he says.

“Hi.”

“Bor-ing!” Farrah shouts, cupping her mouth.

“Want to go for a walk?” Declan asks Farrah, taking her hand and pulling her off her stool.

“No, I don’t,” she insists as Declan strong-arms her toward the door. “Unhand me. Luna, help, help! He has me in his grasp.”

I ignore her as Declan escorts Farrah out of the apartment. Once the door shuts, Cohen relaxes and reaches out to take my hand.

Before he can say anything, a stream of words rushes out of my mouth.

“I’m so sorry, Cohen. I should have told you about Alec and me. I never should have kept it a secret, and I’m sorry about The Wedding Game and making you feel like I control your life—that’s not my intention at all. I’m just protective. I saw what happened to you in school, and I don’t ever want to see that again, so I might be controlling at times, but it’s just because I want you to be happy and to never get hurt. I want you to be able to live your life freely and openly, and I want all the best things for you, like a penthouse in Manhattan and a family and kids, and I want to be an aunt and I want people to—”

“Luna, slow down.” Cohen squeezes my hand. “I know, okay? I know.”

“You know what? I said a lot.”

“I know all of it. I know you’re sorry. I understand why you didn’t say anything, and I came here to apologize to you. I was . . . hell.” He exhales. “I was wound up from the challenge, nervous about the wedding being televised, frustrated that I was relying on you too much to create this moment in my head that I wasn’t even sure I’d wanted in the first place.” He squeezes his eyes shut, and then pops them open. “I put blame on you that never should have been there in the first place. You’ve been nothing but a loving sister to me. Supportive in every way, loving Declan like another brother.” He cups my hand with both of his. “I’m sorry, Luna. I overreacted and never should have said the things I said to you. I didn’t mean them.”

“Really?” I ask, tears streaming down my face. “Because I can make it up to you. I can step away, give you your space, retract my opinion on everything. I want you to be happy, and if that means I need to take a step back, then I will.”

“I don’t want you to take a step back. I want you in my life like you’ve always been, especially if Declan and I decide to have children.” He takes a deep breath and pulls me into one of his all-encompassing, life-affirming hugs. When he releases me, he leans back and lets his breath out.

“Come on,” I say, nudging him. “I’m not that bad.”

“You are.” He laughs and nods to the bathroom. “Go take a shower. Mom and Dad want to have dinner with us in half an hour. I told them we’d meet at that Italian place down the block.”

“Seriously?”

He nods. “Hurry up, Luna. Or I’m leaving without you.”

Feeling a little lighter, I pop off the couch and rush to the bathroom, where I block out the hurt and pain of losing Alec and focus on the relief coursing through me that things are going to be okay with Cohen.

“To our beautiful children, the television stars,” my mom says, holding up her glass of champagne.

“And to our daughter, for not swearing on national television while an old lady named Helen sat on her,” my dad, ever the jokester, adds as we all clink our glasses together.

“I take it you watched the first episode,” I say after taking a sip and setting my flute down. I’m sitting between Declan and Cohen because I needed to feel both of their love after our long week.

“Oh, we popped popcorn and everything,” Mom says. She looks more beautiful than ever—her skin is glowing, and she can’t seem to stop smiling. Australia treated them well. “That Helen—I can see why you refer to her as a ‘pill’ in all those emails. What a wretched woman.”

“She’s even more wretched in person,” Declan adds.

My dad pats Declan on the back. “Well, at least you guys held it together. I can’t wait to see how everything is pulled together on Friday.”

“I’m also thrilled about the tea ceremony tomorrow Declan’s parents put together. Moreen and I have been emailing back and forth about the details,” Mom says with a soft smile.

“Yes, Jonah has been emailing me as well,” Dad says. “Lovely people, but mainly, I can’t wait to finally see you two get married. About damn time one of my kids finds the love of their life and settles down.”

I keep my face neutral as Alec’s face flashes through my mind. I wonder what he’s doing right now, if he’s made up with Thad—or even with his mom. Is he sitting at home, alone, with no one to talk to? My eyes start to tear just thinking about him being alone, and the pain he must be facing.

“Well, I might not be the only one of your kids in love . . . ,” Cohen says with a smirk.

I could kill him.

“What?” my mom gushes. “Luna, are you seeing someone?”

“No,” I say just as Cohen says, “Yes.”

“Cohen,” I whisper under my breath, but that doesn’t stop him.

“Met him on the show.”

“Cohen, stop.”

“He’s really handsome,” Declan adds. I whip around, ready to chastise him, when my mom coos and claps her hands.

“Is he a PA? Maybe a set designer? Oh, honey”—she turns to my dad—“wouldn’t it just be a dream if it was that Alec from the other team? We said he’d be perfect for Luna. Granted, he’s competition, but oh so dreamy.”

My mouth nearly hits the table. Say what?

Cohen laughs out loud while Declan clutches his heart.

“What?” My mom looks between us. “Is it Alec? Please tell me it’s Alec.”

“Oh, that’s great.” Cohen wipes under his eye. “Mom and Dad even picked him out for you.”

“Is it Alec?” my dad asks now, looking positively giddy.

What is happening right now?

“I mean,” he continues, “just from the one episode, we could see there’s some pain hidden behind those green eyes, and who better to help him than our little Luna bear?”

“Well . . . is it him?” my mom asks, so hopeful.

Sighing, I move my silverware to the side to keep my hands busy. “It was him.”

“Was?” My mom looks from one to the other among us. “What happened?”

“There’s been a minor setback, but things will get back on track this weekend—don’t worry, Mom,” Cohen says.

“No, don’t listen to him. I, uh . . . I broke up with him.”

“Because you’re an idiot,” Declan says.

“Hey.”

“He’s right,” Cohen replies. “You’re an idiot, but I was the cause of your idiocy. So it’s excused.”

“Are we missing something?” Dad asks, looking thoroughly confused, his flute of champagne half-raised to his mouth.

“Nothing you should be concerned about,” Cohen says with such confidence that I actually want to puke.

“Don’t do anything stupid,” I say. “I know I’ve intervened a lot in your life, but stay out of this, Cohen. I said something to him that I can never take back.”

“What did you say?” Mom asks, leaning forward, as if she’s watching a soap opera unfold.

“Not something we need to talk about. Hey, let’s talk about how Helen is probably getting ready to make that cake, huh. Wouldn’t I love to be a fly on the wall for that.”

“Do you love him?” Cohen asks.

Everyone turns to stare at me.

“Doesn’t matter.”

“What?” Dad asks. “Of course it matters. The number of times I messed up with your mom is embarrassing, but because I loved her, I begged and begged for forgiveness—and she gave it. So it very well does matter.”

“It does,” Mom chimes in. “So . . . do you love him?”

“Do you?” Declan nudges me.

I glance around the table as their expectant eyes stare me down. Emotion climbs up my throat, and tears well up in my eyes. Before I can stop them, they fall over and onto my cheeks as I nod.

Cohen wraps his hand around my shoulder and brings me into his chest.