Three.

And then, without saying a word, he takes my hand, intertwining our fingers and guiding me out to the dance floor. He spins me before bringing me in close.

Really close.

His hand spans my lower back as my hand falls to his chest and glides up to the back of his neck, just as our eyes connect.

His eyes read like a picture book, showing every emotion within him.

Relief.

Excitement.

Love . . .

I hope he can see the same within me, because I’m about to burst—just from having him this close again, his eyes searching mine, his lips wet and waiting.

He sighs. And he tips his forehead against mine, like so many times before. “I love you.”

My lip trembles, those three words cutting me hard and deep all at once, and I can’t contain the sigh of happiness that pops out of me.

“I love you, Alec . . . so much.”

“Hell,” he says, nuzzling his head against mine. “Jesus, I needed to hear that. Badly.” He lifts his head up just enough so I can look him in the eyes. “I’m so fucking sorry, Luna. For asking you to lie to Cohen, for—”

I stop him with my fingers to his lips and then bring them back to the nape of his neck. “I know. But you need to know something. When I said I chose wrong, I didn’t mean it. I was angry and upset and I lashed out at you. You didn’t deserve that, and I’m sorry.” I grip him even tighter. “Coming to your apartment to help you bake a cake was the best choice I ever made, because it opened my heart to a confusing, beautiful, knucklehead of a man. I love you, with everything in me, and I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me.”

“Luna Moon, you don’t need to ask for my forgiveness, because you have it. I just want to know if I can take you home tonight. Make you mine again.”

“I never stopped being yours,” I say, standing on my toes and pressing my mouth to his.

He hums against my lips and then parts his mouth, closing the space between us and delivering one of the most sensual and loving kisses I’ve ever experienced.

He pulls away, and from the corner of my eye, I spot Thad and Naomi, and Declan and Cohen, still dancing, but smiling ear to ear as they watch us make up.

“Are you back together?” Naomi asks, raising her voice over the music.

Alec brings his mouth to the back of my hand and kisses it. “We’re back together.”

They all cheer, and Alec picks me up and swings me around. Setting me back on my feet, he cups my cheeks and lights me up all over again.

I sigh into his hold and relish the knowledge that The Wedding Game wasn’t just a challenge to create the best ceremony and reception. It was a challenge for my heart, opening it up to someone else and filling it with love.

At least I know one couple who won this season on The Wedding Game, and we didn’t need a wedding to prove it.

EPILOGUE

ALEC

“Have I told you I really like this dress on you?” I murmur into Luna’s ear, my arm wrapped around her waist.

“About three separate times,” she says with a chuckle, moving her head to the side so I can kiss her neck. “But I’ll never turn down a compliment from you.”

“Are you flirting with me?” My lips press against the spot right below her ear, and she turns in my arms so she’s facing me.

“Always. I’m always flirting with you.”

I smile widely and gaze into her eyes, feeling like a goddamn king right about now. “Are you really going to move in with me?” I still can’t quite believe she said yes to my proposition last night.

“How could I not? You built me a craft room.” Yeah, I may have set up my second bedroom as a craft room for her. In my mind, we won’t stay in the apartment longer than a few years. I have plans for a family with this girl, and we’re going to need a bigger place for that, but what we have for now will work. “I still can’t believe you did that. I don’t think I’ve ever humped someone as hard as I humped you last night.”

I laugh out loud, pulling the attention from everyone around us. I cup her cheek and quietly say, “The humping was very much appreciated, and feel free to do it whenever you want.”

“I will.” She rises up on her toes and kisses me lightly before spinning around in my arms. Just then Diane walks on set, which is a cube of a room, decorated with flowers and sectioned off in threes. Behind each team is a small replica of their wedding, pulled together by PAs. Just seeing them all together makes me laugh, especially with our incredibly flamboyant feathered theme against the two more neutral ones.

She spots us and, with her fingers, motions for us to break up. “Team Rossi, Team Baxter, get in your respective spots.”

After Thad and Naomi’s wedding, Diane asked if The Wedding Game could do some web content about our relationship, since it developed on the show. We of course said yes, because it would be great exposure for Luna—and it has been. Not only has her partnership with Marco been going better than she ever imagined—launch date next year—but collaboration requests from other wedding companies have begun to pour in, and she’s been offered a DIY column in the top bridal magazine, aptly called Brides. She’s been busy, and I couldn’t be prouder. I told her that at the rate she’s going, she could be my sugar mama and I could sit back, quit the divorce train, and just enjoy my girl’s riches . . .

She said I would get too bored, which is true, but she has incorporated me into her YouTube channel. I have my own series, Crafting with Alec. It’s cute shit. Watch me fuck up a lot while Luna patiently teaches me how to do things. On the rare occasion I do something right, I feel extraordinarily accomplished. I’m not ready to quit my job just yet, but Luna said her “hot boyfriend” has nearly doubled her followers.

I do look like Chris Evans, after all.

“This is the big moment. Please refrain from swearing if you don’t win,” Diane says, holding up a large envelope. “Graceful losers all around. Helen, Thad, I’m looking at you two.”

“Why did you single us out?” Thad exclaims, panicking. “Does that mean Team Rossi won?” I grip his shoulder, trying to ease his anxiety.

Thad and Naomi found out they’re having a girl, and Thad has been going crazy, overbuying things for his little girl—not ideal for their tiny apartment. There’s an archway of baby things in their entryway that you have to walk under in order to get to their living room.

“No,” Diane says in a clipped tone. “I’m saying stay calm and respectful. That’s all. We don’t need any hysterics. We only have one chance to capture a true reaction to the winner, so keep it together.”

She hands the envelope off to Mary, who has been keeping her distance. Rightfully so. Rumor around set is this is her last season, and they’re looking for someone to take her place.

Guess who wants to apply for the job? Luna, right? Nope . . . Thad. He’s caught the crafting bug and thinks he would be an energetic and fun host. At least that’s what a lot of the forums are saying online.

I mean, I can see it, actually.

“Places!” Diane calls out. “Remember, until I say cut, you need smiles on your faces, and then you’re allowed to wallow. We will run through some quick interviews, and then you’re free.”

I stand next to Thad, my hand still on his shoulder as his body vibrates with excitement. A campaign on Instagram has started that’s centered around Thad, earning him a cultlike following that loves him in all his dramatic glory. So by the time the final episode aired, Thad was actually hopeful that his popularity could mean a win—though Team Rossi easily had the best wedding. As for Team Hernandez, well . . . they had Helen.

I glance over at Luna, who is standing between Cohen and Declan. Last night I asked her how they were feeling about everything, and she said they had a second option if they didn’t win the penthouse, which they were a little more excited about: an old brownstone they want to renovate in Brooklyn. People are calling it a money pit, but they see the potential.

Diane counts down and then points at Mary, who erases her scowl and turns on a smile for the camera. “America has voted, and the winner of The Wedding Game is . . .”

She has to count to five before she reads the card—Diane’s orders. And it’s annoying. I hate when reality shows do that. Just fucking say it already.

Mary unfolds the envelope, smiles, and then looks straight at the camera.

Thad tenses.

Naomi sucks in a sharp breath of air.

And I feel my butt cheeks squeeze together in anticipation.

“Team Hernandez.”

“What in the ever—!” Thad shouts. I slap my hand over his mouth, and he continues to mutter obscenities against my palm.

Luciana and Amanda cheer while Helen swoons against their workbench. We watch them celebrate as Mary walks over to them, envelope in hand. She looks at the camera again and says, “Until next wedding season, keep crafting and falling in love.”

Diane yells, “Cut!” and I release Thad’s mouth.