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“We got our old Dayna back, son. And I’m pretty sure that, in part, we have you to thank for that.”
His words knocked the air from my lungs. “I don’t know what to say.”
“You don’t have to say anything, Aiden. Just promise me you’ll keep doing whatever you’re doing. I haven’t seen my Bug happy like this in a long time.” He squeezed my shoulder.
There was no way I was telling him that I was almost certain Dayna’s new happy-go-lucky outlook on life was down to all the sex she was getting, so I nodded and murmured something about what a great girl she was.
“I’m glad to have met you, son. My Dayna is a lucky girl.”
“Not as lucky as me, sir.”
“Now, now, I thought we agreed it’s Derek.”
I nodded, a strange tightness in my chest. I’d been in Dupont Beach less than three weeks, but these people—this family—had accepted me into the fold without question. It was more than I deserved, but I was so fucking grateful.
“You know, Dayna was telling me all about your mom. You should invite her down one weekend. We’d love to meet her.”
“I’m sure she’d love that, thank you.”
“Anytime, son. Even if you and Dayna Bug hadn’t hit it off, we love having you around. And any friend of Carson’s is a friend of ours.”
I cleared my throat, trying to dislodge the lump there. “That means a lot, Derek. Thank you.”
We headed outside to Dayna and her mom. She got up to greet me while Derek made a beeline for the grill.
“Hey.” She smiled, sliding her arms around my waist.
“Hey.” I gave her a chaste kiss, aware of Mrs. Benson doing a piss-poor job of not gawking in our direction.
“Is everything okay?” Dayna gazed up at me.
“Everything is perfect.”
“Perfect, huh? My dad must have a real way with words.” A knowing smirk played on her lips.
“You saw that?”
“I saw the two of you talking. What did he want?”
“That’s for me to know, freckles.”
She pressed her hand against my chest. “He didn’t say anything… inappropriate, did he?”
“He said I should invite my mom down.”
“Oh my God,” the blood drained from her face, “I’m so sorry. I’ll talk to him and tell him that we’re—”
“Freckles?”
“Yeah?”
“Take a breath.” I smiled. “It’s fine. I think it’s a good idea.”
“You do?” Confusion washed over her.
“Yeah. My mom is dying to meet my girlfriend, and she would love your parents.”
“Wait a minute”—her eyes grew wide—“did you just call me your… girlfriend?”
