“You’re good,” Cass said with a smile. “I just wanted some space from the chaos backstage.” Then she watched him fill the second bottle. “So, you’re here with . . . Sorry, can you remind me of her name again?”

“Jacintha.”

“Right! Are you enjoying yourselves so far?”

“We just got here, and apparently we’re a bit early. Jacintha hates being late, and I just do what she tells me to.” He laughed, but Cass had trouble keeping the smile on her face.

“I should probably get back,” she began.

Miguel capped the second bottle, then gave Cass what she was beginning to recognize as his signature kind and caring expression. “Listen, I don’t want to overstep, but . . . you seem a little stressed. How are you doing?”

Cass laughed weakly. “You’re right. There was a bit of on-set drama this morning. My co-host is . . . Well, let’s just say he’s doing his best to try and make me look bad.” She was aware she’d said too much, and tried to backpedal. “Actually, that’s not entirely true. I’m making myself look bad, I guess. But I’m letting him get under my skin. He keeps bringing up the concussion every chance he gets. He’s trying to undermine me, so he can take the next show away from Char—away from me.” Cass paused to take a breath. “I am so sorry, Miguel. When I invited you here it was not to be my therapist!”

He smiled, his charming bedside manner fully intact. “Head injuries can cause people to act in ways that aren’t typical for them, but that doesn’t seem to be the issue here.”

Cass wondered if pretending to be her twin sister counted as acting in an atypical way.

“Your symptoms haven’t flared, have they?” he continued.

“No, I feel great in that department.” She beamed up at him, trying to radiate health.

“Good. Then I’m not worried about you at all, and I’m the medical professional. Last I checked, that cocky co-host of yours isn’t a doctor, right?” He smiled warmly.

“You always know just the right thing to say to make me feel better,” Cass said, then remembered her dilemma and winced. “As a fan of the show, any chance you have a killer dessert idea you want to share, along with your medical opinion?”

“Seriously? You’re asking me for baking advice? Actually, Jacintha and I have this tradition—Sunday night bake-offs after our weekly family dinner with my parents. And I did just make something pretty delicious.”

Cass smiled even as she was struck with a sudden sense of longing. What would it be like to be with someone who shared your interests?

“This past Sunday we took this old recipe from back when we were kids. My parents are both doctors and were always so busy, but they baked together every Sunday evening like clockwork.” Miguel smiled at the memory. “Jacintha based this week’s competition on who could come up with the recipe’s craziest twist.”