“What? Don’t tell me you weren’t wishing a teeny tiny bit that you met Dad at school and not during his stay at the inn.”

My dad’s lips twitch a little, and he places a kiss on Mom’s cheek, pulling her closer to him. “I definitely would have loved to woo you in school, Lulu.”

I snicker. Dad has a penchant for calling Mom and me silly, random nicknames.

“Don’t worry, Dad. I think you guys’ story is much better than the couple’s last week.” I cringe at the mere thought of it.

“Autumn!” Mom reprimands me.

“What? I think I had a holy fuck moment when the bride said she hadn’t known her husband until the week before.”

“Watch your language, Autumn Smith!” She shakes her head.

“But, Mom, an arranged marriage? In this world? It gives me the creeps just thinking about it.”

Before the exchange between Mom and me blows up, Dad says, “If my business women are done with their work, I’d really like to take them home.”

As I slide into the back seat of Dad’s Mercedes, my phone vibrates in my jacket.

Chiara: Have you asked your parents about tomorrow?

Autumn: No. But I’ll talk to them. You just ask your brother to buy me a ticket.

Chiara: He won’t. Not until you get your parents’ permission.

Chiara: Santi is yammering nonstop about how he’s already lost a ton of money on concert tickets. We promise we’ll go and then you bail out.

“Who’s texting you so late?” Mom asks from the passenger seat.

“It’s Chiara,” I reply absent-mindedly.

“Everything okay with her?”

I bite my lip. I’d planned to talk to my parents tomorrow morning, but…maybe now is as good a time as any.

“There’s a band playing tomorrow evening at Rendezvous, and her brother is getting tickets for the both of us, me and Chiara.”

“Why would he do that?”

I don’t understand why my mom sometimes deliberately acts difficult.

“Because I asked him. And before you ask why ‘I’ would do that…” I make air quotes, which she can’t see of course. “I want to go. All my friends will be there.”

“But that’s a bar, tums.” Confusion laces Dad’s voice.

Mom turns around in her seat. “What? It’s a bar?”

“The concert won’t take place inside the bar. They’ll put an open stage in the beer garden outside. The event is called ‘Under the Stars.’”

My parents don’t say anything, but they’re holding hands in that way, and I’m sure there’s some telepathic conversation going on between them.

“Okay, you can go,” Mom says after a few moments of silence.