The line was quiet for five seconds that felt longer.
Then Marco's voice came through, softer this time. "Okay. Then I'll speak to your mum. Explain it to her. And I'll call England and tell them you're accepting their invitation."
"Thanks, Marco," Demien said, and relief washed through him because he'd been dreading that conversation with his mother, dreading having to explain why he was choosing his father's country over hers. "Thanks for understanding."
"No problem. Anything to make you happy." Marco paused, then added, "But listen—if you have any issues, if anything happens, if this gets messy—you tell me immediately. You understand?"
"Yeah. For sure I would."
"Good. Now go back to sleep. It's four in the fucking morning."
