I nodded, squeezing Keith's hand. "Yes, Mom. Dad. This is Keith..."
Keith stepped forward, his posture straightening despite the vulnerability I'd just witnessed, extending his hand to Dad first. "Sir," he said, his voice respectful, almost formal, "it's a pleasure to meet you."
Dad took his hand, his grip firm, eyes narrowing slightly as he assessed Keith with that air of quiet power even in casual clothes. "Declan Sterling," he replied, his tone guarded. "And this is my wife, Hazel."
Keith turned to Mom, shaking her hand gently. "Ma'am, thank you for welcoming me."
Mom's expression softened almost immediately, her warm nature winning over any initial wariness, a smile breaking through as she clasped his hand in both of hers. "Oh, please, call me Hazel. And come in, sit down! You look like you've had a long drive. Can I get you some coffee? Or tea?"
Keith smiled lightly, his dimples appearing briefly. "Coffee would be great, thank you, Hazel.”
“We have fresh apple pie in the kitchen.” mom said
“Pie, I haven't had in years.” Keith confessed.
Mom beamed, bustling off to the kitchen, her voice carrying back. "Years? That's no way to live! Keith, make yourself comfortable. Declan, don't just sit there, talk to the boy!"
Dad grumbled but folded his newspaper, gesturing to the sofa. "Have a seat, son."
I whispered to Dad, "Be nice, please. He's... been through a lot."
Dad looked at me then, his blue eyes searching mine, seeing the plea, the depth of my feelings, perhaps the way my hand lingered on Keith's arm. His expression eased, the guard dropping slightly as he nodded. "Alright, kid."
Mom called from the kitchen, “Aurelia, sweetheart, can you help me with the cups?” Grateful for the brief escape, I walked into the kitchen. Mom was bustling between cabinets, pulling out the good china she only used for guests who mattered.
“You okay?” she whispered, eyebrows lifting meaningfully.
I nodded, though I wasn’t sure she believed me. Together we arranged the tray. Cups, sugar bowl, extra cookies she insisted on adding and carried it back.
Keith sat politely when I re-entered. I set the tray down, then slipped onto the sofa beside him, close enough that our knees brushed. Dad noticed. He noticed everything.
Keith sat, his posture relaxed but alert, as Dad leaned forward. "So, Keith, what do you do?"
Keith nodded, accepting the coffee Mom handed him with a thank you. "I run a real estate conglomerate, sir. Elysian Haven's my latest project."
Dad's eyebrows rose. "Real estate? Sounds ambitious. Family business?"
Keith's jaw tightened briefly, but he smiled. "Not really. I've branched out on my own."
Mom's eyes widened. "Resorts? Like those fancy islands in magazines? Oh, wait, Keith Krogen? The Keith Krogen? I saw your picture in Architectural Digest last month! That island resort, Elysian Haven? You built that?"
Keith gave a small laugh, a genuine sound that warmed the room. "Guilty as charged. It's been a labor of love."
Mom's eyes widened, her hand to her chest. "Well, our Aurelia bringing home a celebrity. Tell us more, how did you two meet?"
I blushed, but Keith glanced at me with a soft smile. "Through the project. She's designing the interiors. Talented as hell. Her ideas for the interiors brought it to life."
Dad nodded, easing further. "Sounds like she's making her mark. Always knew she would. So, Keith, you from New York originally?"
"Born and raised," Keith replied, sipping his coffee. "Although my ancestors have their origin from Denmark.But this island's my escape. Peace away from the city chaos."
Mom leaned in, her voice warm like family already. "Escapes are important. Aurelia's been through a lot lately, coming home for rest. But having you here... it lights her up. We can see that."
Keith's eyes met mine, a flicker of gratitude. "She does the same for me, Hazel."
The conversation flowed from there, Dad launching into stories of carburetor rebuilds and rusty frames, Mom chiming in with tales of Dad's "garage explosions" that had singed his eyebrows more than once. I watched, a calm settling over me for the first time in weeks, seeing Keith fit so seamlessly, his arm around my shoulders, his fingers playing with the end of my braid when Mom wasn't looking, stealing a quick kiss on my temple that made me blush and swat his hand away playfully. "Stop," I whispered, but my smile betrayed me, his dimple flashing in response.
"Can't help it," he murmured, his lips brushing my ear. "You're too distracting."
