Jay watched him, his eyes sharp. He had seen the way Dom looked at Hazel. The way he leaned toward her when she spoke. The way he found excuses to touch her hand, to stand close, to make her laugh. He had seen it in the way Dom talked about her when she wasn't in the room.
This wasn't about finding a pretend fiancée.
This was about Dom wanting to take Hazel to meet his parents because he wanted her to meet his parents.
Jay's suspicion solidified into certainty.
"Dom," he said quietly, "you like her."
Dom's face went still. "What?"
"You like Hazel. Not as a pretend fiancée. Not as a convenient solution. You actually like her."
The room was very quiet. Jace had stopped pretending to look at his sleeve. His eyes were wide, fixed on Dom.
Dom's ears went pink. His hand, which had been reaching for the apple again, froze mid-air. "I don't. That's not—"
"You're blushing."
"I'm not blushing. The room is warm."
"The room is sixty-eight degrees."
"The sun is bright."
