Scarlett nervously played with the hem of her dress as the car sped through the quiet neighborhood toward her mother's home. The morning sunlight filtered through the window, highlighting the tension in her jaw.
"Will you stop that already?" I gently pulled her hand toward me and interlaced her fingers with mine. "It's not like I haven't met your family. I love them, they love me, so what's the problem?"
"You haven't met all of them," she retorted. "Believe me, it's gonna be a nightmare. My family is wild. My brother's kids, although very cute, are a riot."
I chuckled and leaned back against the seat. "I think I'll manage. You know I love kids. You can do all sorts of fun stuff with them without the responsibility of actually parenting them. It's perfect."
The moment I said that, Scarlett went quiet, her eyes drifting toward the window as if something heavy had settled on her mind.
"Everything alright?" I asked, watching her expression carefully.
"Nothing, just a thought I had…" She trailed off, sounding distant. "Forget it."
"What is it?" I nudged gently. "Come on, don't leave me in suspense."
She sighed and finally met my eyes. "Would you ever want kids? The way you spoke about no parenting responsibility made me wonder…"
I had never seriously thought about having kids of my own. In my past life, I knew exactly what my profession was, and I didn't want my kids to be bullied for it, so I'd gotten a vasectomy. But now things were different. I actually could have kids if I wanted to. Still, this wasn't the right time. I was only twenty, for God's sake. There was no rush.
"I hadn't thought about it, if I'm honest," I said slowly. "But now that I am thinking about it... someday, yeah. Maybe in four or five years? We're both pretty young. You just turned 25 last week, and I'm not even 21 yet. We have our careers to handle. What's the rush?"
She nodded, though she didn't say anything else.
I brought her hand to my lips and kissed it softly. "Also, I'm a little old-school like that. I'd ask for your hand in marriage before we start planning for kids. I don't want any bastards." I joked lightly, and the comment finally made her chuckle.
She leaned into my side, resting her head in the crook of my neck. Her hair brushed against my jaw, and although the moment felt warm, there was still a lingering sense that something deeper was weighing on her. Before I could ask, she broke the silence.
"I have to tell you something," she said softly, her face so close she didn't bother looking at me.
"Yeah?" I prodded gently.
"I…" She hesitated, clearly choosing her words with care.
Suddenly, the car rolled to a stop. I glanced out the window and realized we'd probably arrived at her mother's house. The driveway was decorated with a few fall-themed ornaments, perfect for Thanksgiving.
"We're here," I said. "You were saying?"
"I was saying that I had no idea how difficult doing a play was," she said quickly. "I mean, I'm already tired from the practice alone, and I can only imagine how much work performing live every day will be."
Was that really what she wanted to say? I didn't think so, but I chose not to push her further.
"Theater is always so much more work than movies," I said as we opened my side of the door. "It's only the stardom that makes people think otherwise. Let's talk about this later and go celebrate Thanksgiving with your family."
She gave me a curt nod as I moved out. She stepped out right after I did, while the driver pulled the car away to look for a parking spot. I was so grateful I didn't have to drive in New York. It wasn't the driving itself that bothered me; it was the parking, which I hated with a passion.
Scarlett rang the doorbell. Within moments, the door swung open to reveal Melanie Sloan, Scarlett's mother.
The moment our eyes met, she stepped forward and pulled me into a tight hug. "Troy!"
"Happy Thanksgiving, Melanie," I greeted warmly.
"Happy Thanksgiving," she echoed with a bright smile.
"I'm here as well, Mom," Scarlett groaned.
Melanie let go of me and hugged her daughter. "Of course, dear. It's just that I rarely see Troy, and you and I met two days ago."
Scarlett rolled her eyes in a way that clearly showed this wasn't the first time this had happened.
"Troy," my chauffeur called from behind, holding the large gift basket I'd brought for our hosts.
"Thanks." I took the basket from him and handed it to Melanie. "Thanks for having us here, Mel. This is a small gift from Scarlett and me."
"Ooh!" Melanie went straight for the wine bottles, ignoring the flowers and the cake. She lifted one of the wines, eyes widening. "I thought you two didn't drink. And this is some good stuff."
"It's for everyone else," I said. "I don't like to impose my dietary preferences on others."
"Can we come in, Mom?" Scarlett finally asked.
Melanie realized we were still standing on the doorstep and quickly stepped aside. "Of course, where are my manners. Please come in."
I stepped inside and took in the interior of her home. I'd never visited before since we always met at my place. Her house wasn't as big as ours, but it was warm, tidy, and decorated with enough care that it felt high-class. There was a pleasant, homey scent of cinnamon and roasted vegetables drifting from the kitchen.
"You have a lovely home, Mel," I said.
"Thank you," she replied with a proud grin.
Before we could take more than a few steps, two kids came running toward us and launched themselves at Scarlett.
"Auntie Scar is here! What have you brought for us?"
"It's not Christmas," Scarlett laughed, hugging them tightly. "You'll have to wait for your gifts. But before that, have you met my boyfriend Troy?"
The kids pulled back. The older one, a boy around ten, stared at me with wide eyes before cursing under his breath. "Shit. He's Harry Potter."
"Language, Joe," Melanie scolded immediately.
I couldn't help but laugh. Say what you will, but kids cursing was absolutely hilarious to me. I offered my hand to Joe, then to his sister Maya, who looked a little younger but was just as energetic.
It didn't take long before Joe and Maya grabbed my hands and started dragging me deeper into the house to meet everyone else. And by everyone else, I meant a lot of people. Scarlett had a huge extended family. Along with her four siblings, there were uncles, aunts, cousins, and cousins of cousins, all packed under one roof. Thanksgiving with them was clearly a full production.
"So, is this your first Thanksgiving, Troy?" Christian Johansson, Scarlett's older half-brother and the father of Joe and Maya, asked while taking a sip from his beer. Around us, the whole family was glued to the television, fully absorbed in a football match. And not even the correct football, this one barely involved any kicking.
"No, my father and brother are American," I said, lifting a glass of orange juice to my lips. "We may have lived in Britain most of my life, but even there we take a day off, have a feast, and enjoy each other's company."
Christian nodded. "Where are they then? You should've asked them to come along too. We have a motto here: the more the merrier."
I chuckled. "Scarlett did invite them. But they're hosting a party and charity event in LA. We've arranged a huge feast for homeless people in both LA and New York. They're managing it there, while Scarlett and I are handling things from here. In fact, we are coming here directly from one such shelter."
"That's noble of you," Christian said, sounding genuinely impressed. "But why haven't we heard about it in the news?"
"Because we're not doing it for the world to know," I said honestly. "We also don't want people flocking to homeless shelters just to get a glimpse of us or for free food. Those who are truly homeless will be the ones benefiting."
There was a brief lull in our conversation as the entire room, including Scarlett, groaned in unison at a missed goal or whatever had just happened on the screen. I don't understand American football all that much.
"Not a fan of football?" I asked Christian.
He shrugged. "Not really. I prefer basketball."
I nodded, then asked something I'd been meaning to for a while. "Will your father be coming here today? I've been wanting to meet him, but something or another always comes up."
"He was supposed to be here by now," Christian muttered, checking his watch. "He must be running late or something."
As if summoned by our words, the door to the room opened, and an older man walked in with a wide grin plastered across his face. "I'm here, kids! Come to papa!"
That nose, those eyes, and most obviously, the blonde hair were unmistakable. This was definitely Scarlett's father. The moment everyone realized who had arrived, they sprang to their feet and rushed to greet him.
Within minutes, all of Scarlett's siblings, followed by her mother, had taken turns hugging him. Scarlett was the last to go, and as soon as she pulled away, she took his arm and guided him toward me.
"Dad, this is my boyfriend, Troy Armitage. Troy, my father, Karsten Johansson."
I shook the older man's hand firmly as he looked me over with a scrutinizing gaze, even though his smile never faltered.
"Pleased to meet you, sir," I said evenly.
"The pleasure's all mine, lad, and please call me Kar or Olaf, whichever you prefer."
"Olaf?" I asked, resisting the very strong urge to start singing Do You Wanna Build a Snowman?
"His middle name," Scarlett said for him. "Come on now, we were watching a game."
"Later," Karsten waved her off. "It's the first time I'm meeting your man. I want to talk to him."
"Dad," Scarlett said sharply, a clear warning in her voice. "You promised you'll behave."
"It's fine, love," I said, gesturing toward the dining area. "Why don't Olaf and I set the table while all of you watch the game?"
"Great idea!" Karsten beamed before walking toward the kitchen. "Come on, Troy. Let's show these ladies how it's done."
"Don't you dare touch my turkey!" Melanie shouted from the couch. "I've spent so many hours on it."
"We won't," I promised before following Karsten out.
The moment it was just the two of us, Karsten began what could only be described as his own personal Spanish Inquisition. "So, Troy, what are your intentions toward my daughter?"
I blinked a couple of times before answering honestly. "I love her. I want to grow old with her, have lots of kids with her, and marry her too. Not in that exact order, but yeah."
We stared at each other for a few awkward seconds. The more the silence stretched, the more I felt the urge to smack my own forehead. Did I really just tell a father that I wanted to have lots of kids with his daughter? He was definitely going to hate me now. At least, that's what I thought until Karsten suddenly burst into loud, booming laughter.
When I didn't join in, he eventually calmed down and placed a hand on my shoulder.
"I like you, Troy. It seems Scarlett's found a man exactly like me," he said proudly.
"How so?" I asked, genuinely curious.
A nostalgic look crossed his eyes. "I said something similar to my first wife, Christian's mother. I was a naive romantic fool back then and believed in one true love. Ah, to be young and in love. The best feeling in the world."
He walked over to the dining table and began laying out placemats. I automatically grabbed plates and silverware from the counter and handed them to him as we fell into an easy rhythm.
As we worked in silence, his earlier words kept echoing in my mind. I didn't like the way he connected being in love with being naive.
"My parents met more than twenty years ago," I said suddenly. "They're still very much in love, and I haven't seen them fight a lot. If at all. So I don't think it's naive or foolish to believe in love. It's very much possible. You just have to find the right person."
He nodded slowly. "That, my dear boy, is the most difficult task of all: finding the right person. People confuse attraction with love. At first, it's just physical, sexual attraction that keeps things going. But what after five years? Or ten? You can't rely on physical intimacy to solve all your issues for the rest of your lives."
He wasn't wrong. My relationship with Rihanna had been exactly what he described. We'd ended up patching over every conflict with sex. But Scarlett was different. She was so much more than a physical attraction. She was stable, grounded, and emotionally mature. Rihanna always felt like she was competing with me, while Scarlett never did. Scarlett didn't mind compromising parts of her career if it meant we could be together. There was no jealousy between us. Even when we were apart for a month or more, I never thought about anyone else but her.
One of the biggest reasons my past relationship fell apart was the distance between us, her in LA and me in London. That alone was proof that what I had with Scarlett was already far beyond the physical.
"Olaf," I said hesitantly after a few quiet moments.
"Yes?" he asked, looking up.
"I… I need your blessing. I want to marry Scarlett."
The plate in his hands slipped through his fingers. Thankfully, I was close enough to catch it before it hit the floor. I surprised myself with the reflex; I'm terrible at catching anything in an actual field, yet somehow this time I managed it.
"What?" he asked, blinking.
"I said," I repeated slowly, choosing every word with care, "I need your blessing before I ask Scarlett to marry me. I promise I'll keep her happy and help her achieve all her dreams for the rest of my life. I care for her deeply, more than I've ever cared for anyone else. Please say yes."
He stared at me in disbelief for several seconds. "You're asking for my blessing even after what I told you about my first marriage?"
"It was because of that story that my resolve strengthened," I replied. "Scarlett and I don't rely on physical intimacy to solve things. I truly love her, inside and out."
He held my gaze, searching for any hint of doubt or dishonesty.
After a few moments, he nodded slowly. "I give you my blessing. From the way she talks about you, I know my Scar loves you just as much, if not more. And she'll kill me if I say no right now."
We both chuckled.
"Does she know?" he asked. "That you intend to propose?"
"No," I said, shaking my head. "Even I didn't know until this morning. She knows I'll propose one day. I promised her that. But she's not expecting it this soon."
He nodded. "I'll keep quiet then. None of my children or Melanie will hear a word about this until after you've proposed. When are you planning to do it?"
I thought for a bit before answering. "I don't know. Right now, we don't have the time. I'll be leaving New York soon for my film promotion tour, and she's busy practicing for her Broadway play. If it were just about asking, I could've done it tonight. But she means the world to me, and she needs to feel that. I'll need to prepare. So, in a month or two."
Karsten chuckled and shook his head. "You just contradicted yourself when you said being in love isn't foolish."
Maybe I was a fool. But I was a happy fool. I had to plan one of the best proposals in the history of proposals. Something unforgettable, yet intimate enough to avoid headlines. We lived in headlines so often that moments like this deserved to be shared quietly.
Karsten placed the last plate on the table before stepping closer and pulling me into a hug. "Welcome to the family, Troy."
I hugged him back but couldn't help adding, "But she hasn't said yes."
"Yet," he said as if it were obvious. "Come on now, let's call everyone in to enjoy the feast. The game will be over soon."
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AN: Check out my second story, 'Swimmer to Superstar (A Hollywood SI)', which is now publicly available.
Link: www(dot)fablefic(dot)com