"What kind of pact?"
He bit into the onion ring, chewed, then leaned forward like he was sharing state secrets. "If we ever get married later in life, and if one of us has a daughter and the other has a son, they have to marry each other."
Hazel blinked. "You made a marriage pact for your future children?"
"A sacred pact. Written in ketchup."
"You didn't."
"We did. It counts." He grinned. "I'm going to have a daughter. Jason will have a son. They'll be perfect. It's destiny."
Hazel laughed, the sound bright in the warm restaurant. "How do you know you'll have a daughter? You can't just decide these things."
Dom sat up straighter, looking deeply offended. "I know it. I can feel it. Daughters are cute. Daughters are beautiful. Daughters let you braid their hair and buy them tiny shoes and teach them how to skate." His voice softened. "And I will have one. I've decided."
Hazel shook her head, still smiling. "What if you have a son?"
