May shakes her head, pursing her lips.
“Oh! Aunt Betty!” Izzy suddenly says. She hugs an older woman who comes up to the bar.
She beams. “Iz! Isn’t this amazing?”
“We honestly can’t thank you enough for letting us do this here,” Izzy tells her. “Lina, this is our Aunt Betty. She and our Uncle Tony own this property.”
My heart warms. “It’s so lovely to finally meet you,” I say with a hug. “I stayed here for a week a few years ago. With some of the Flores family. Is it weird to tell you that week kind of changed the rest of my life?”
She grins. “Are you Domy’s girlfriend?”
“That’s me. Lina.”
Aunt Betty sighs. “There’s just something about this place, isn’t there? It’s so romantic. Perfect for the beginnings of love stories.” She gestures at Oliver and Georgia. “And their celebrations.”
I look down towards the beach, where there’s a bonfire and lounge chairs set up. I glance back at the guesthouse and its patio and railing. The beginnings of my love stories.
Speaking of which, where are my love stories?
Oh, here’s one. Frankie pops up from out of nowhere, her flower crown hanging from her head by its last bobby pin. “Lina,” she says breathlessly.
I carefully remove the bobby pin and crown, then kiss the top of her head. “What’s up?” I put the crown on the bar.
“Daddy’s looking for you. He’s really nervous. He wants you to help him practice his speech.”
“Again? We’ve practiced like ten times.”
She shrugs. “He looks like he has to poop.”
“Where is he?”
She points. “He’s in the guesthouse.”
I have to chuckle. “Can you bring this drink to Tita Georgia for me? I’ll go find your dad. Thanks, hon.”
I wave goodbye to May and Iz and Aunt Betty and start making my way towards the house.
Up the winding path through the hedges, where I first followed Dom under the moonlight. To the side of the house he pressed me against. Up the stairs that still groan their happiness, like they still can’t believe this shit, either. I open the door.
“Oh, thank fucking god,” my other love story says.
He stands in the kitchen—tall, dark, handsome, tattooed, absolutely fucking devastating in a tux, and… like he’s about to shit his pants.
“Dom,” I laugh. “Breathe, baby.” I close and lock the door behind me.
“This speech is garbage,” he says, dragging his hands through his freshly cut hair.
“It’s beautiful, Dom. It’s perfect. We went over it a hundred times to make sure it was.”
“But—”
“Dom, you do shit like this all the time. Talking to big groups of people. With, like, an annoying amount of confidence.”
He paces back and forth across the length of the kitchen. “I don’t know why I’m so nervous.”
I hop on the kitchen counter, on that same spot from two years ago. I lift the long skirt of my gown all the way up. “Dom.”
“Maybe because it’s my family? People I actually care about?”
