Page 45 of Who's Your Daddy?

“Sing your little heart out for me, De Lorenzo,” Isabella yells, beaming with excitement.

Oh wooooah

“Oh, I plan to,” Dylan replies.

Oh wooooah-o-o

Peter and Scott are cringing so bad, but when the beat drops, they give it all they got. The women in the crowd start screaming like they’re at a boy band concert. I understand why. I want to scream too. The choreography is bad, ranging from the step and tap they used in front of the mic in the 1960s to boisterous over-the-top jazz hands. They go through several poppy love songs, and the moves change every time one song remixes into another.

Despite their hours of practicing, there are some missteps by all of them. One jumps too early, another slides to the left instead of the right, but they are killing themselves laughing. Isabella is in hysterics. It’s a wonderful moment to experience.

On the day I met Peter, my love spilled all over the floor. I scooped it up and tucked it safely back into my pocket. But watching him today...

I’m not sure if it’s going to stay in my pocket.

Geez, what’s wrong with me? Why am I always attracted to the unavailable ones?

They finally bring it down a notch and switch to Ed Sheeran’sPerfect. Peter’s panting hard when he comes back to the table. Adrenalin is still pumping through me. I stand up and throw my arms around him.

“Oh, my God! That was so cute.”

“You’ve just witnessed my most embarrassing moment. Please don’t make it worse by calling itcute.”

“Fine. That was the most rugged display of manliness I’ve ever seen.”

“Better.” He takes a step back and holds out his hand. “May I have this dance?”

In the interest of not engaging incoupleactivities, I should say no, but I have zero willpower when it comes to this man. Plus, he’s wearing a suit.Nodoesn’t feature in my vocabulary tonight.

I take his hand, and he whisks me off. There seems to be some unspoken custom playing out. Every few minutes, the people dancing around us swap partners. Dylan was dancing with Isabella and now he’s with one of her aunts. Mrs. Diaz was dancing with her husband, Keith, but now Scott is twirling her around.

Scott seems quite skilled in ballroom dancing, and I half-turn to catch a glimpse of their elegant routine. What I catch instead is the tail-end of their conversation.

“I promise I’ll still come over every second Saturday,” Scott assures her.

“Yes, but you come over for Keith now,” she snaps playfully. “It’s like I’m not your favorite anymore.”

“How can you say that?” Scott asks. “You’ll always be my favorite.”

“Just give me one second,” Peter says. “This is an opportunity I can’t let slide.” He steps away from me, and between Scott and Mrs. Diaz, curling one arm around her waist. “I want to make it very clear that I havenevercome over for Keith...not evenonce.”

Keith is behind us, dancing with Isabella, and I’m guessing that the unimpressed look on his face was Peter’s ultimate goal. “I heard that, Peter.”

“Keith, why do you always have to be this constant obstacle on my path to love?” Peter fires back.

“Because that’s my wife you’re holding.”

“A fact I can easily overlook.”

Keith chuckles, shaking his head. “You know, I honestly thought you’d be different around your date.”

“I’ve been very open with her. She knows where my heart lies.” He winks at me. “Now, if we disappear, don’t come looking for us.”

He spins her around, and they get swallowed by the crowd. Scott and I are left there after being abandoned by our respective dance partners.

I look over at him. “Peter is really something.”

“He is.”

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