“Peter, I’m an emotional person,” my mom sniffles.
I pull back, blinking, mascara probably a lost cause.
“How are you here?” I look between them.
“About that.” My dad’s eyes crinkle.
Then his gaze slides to Dom with exaggerated solemnity.
“This one,” he says, jerking his chin in Dom’s direction, “called us. Weeks ago.”
“What?” I spin back to Dom.
“You think I was going to let you walk your first show without your parents here?” he says. “Come on.”
My mom wipes her eyes with the side of her palm. “He somehow found our number,” she says. “He called and said, ‘Hi, this is Dominic, I’m dating your daughter, and I need you to keep a secret.’ I almost hung up — I thought it was a prank.”
My dad snorts. “I thought it was the bank.”
“You got them here?” I ask, heart beating stupidly hard.
“I did,” he says, searching my face.
“He paid for everything. Flights, hotel,” my mom starts. “Which, we will pay back.” She points a finger at Dom, who shakes his head firmly. “He picked us up when we landed.”
I’m staring at him. He found their number, booked flights and a hotel room, and picked them up from the airport.
My dad clears his throat, eyes glinting. “You didn’t have to put us in first class. I’d have been perfectly happy hanging onto the wing.”
“You put them in first class?” Heat rushes up my neck.
“Of course,” Dom says. “And,” he adds, “I made a reservation for dinner. All of us. Tonight.”
“All of us?” I echo.
He nods. “You, your parents, me, Dannie. If Jace and Melody behave themselves, they can come, too.”
My dad eyes him for a long beat. “You planning to keep doing things like this?” he asks.
“Dad,” I hiss.
“Yes, sir,” Dom chuckles.
My dad’s mouth twitches, like he’s fighting a smile and losing. “Bit much, isn’t it?”
“I’m in love with your daughter, sir.” Dom smiles. “It’s my pleasure.”
The words hit me square in the chest.
He’s in love with me. Dominic Moreal just confessed he’s in love with me.
My mom makes a soft, delighted sound and my dad studies him for one long, weighted moment.
“Well,” he says. “In that case, I suppose we can see what the restaurant’s house wine is like. And thank you for getting us here.”
“Thank you for not hanging up on me,” Dom replies.
“Well,” my dad says, clapping his hands once. “We’re in Miami. Be a shame if all we saw was air-conditioning and concrete. I was thinking tomorrow, if the weather’s decent, maybe I find some real water. Do a little fishing.”
