The smell of barbecue drifted through your parents’ backyard, mingling with the warm laughter and clinking glasses. You stood at the gate with Aaron’s hand in yours, giving him a little squeeze. Even dressed down in dark jeans and a rolled-up button-down, he still carried that effortless CEO confidence, but there was a flicker of nervousness in his eyes.

“Ready?” you teased.

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” he murmured, brushing his thumb over your hand before you led him inside.

Introductions were warm. Your mom welcomed him with open arms, your dad’s handshake was firm, and Spencer’s was a little slower — protective older brother written all over his face. Still, Aaron met each moment with charm and sincerity, sliding into conversation with ease.

Dinner was lively. Your dad told old stories that made everyone laugh, your mom fussed over whether Aaron had enough food, and Aaron himself jumped in with thoughtful questions, even helping carry plates back to the kitchen. He didn’t feel like an outsider; he felt like he belonged.

At one point, you slipped inside to fetch dessert. Spencer followed, leaning casually against the counter as you plated slices of pie.

“Hey,” he said, tone softer than usual.

You glanced at him. “What?”

His gaze shifted toward the window, where Aaron was on the patio laughing with your dad. Then he looked back at you, expression serious. “Don’t lose him.”

The fork in your hand stilled. “What? Why?” you asked, almost whispering.

Spencer’s features softened, protective but gentle. “Because he looks at you the way Dad looks at Mom.”

For a heartbeat, the house seemed too quiet, those words sinking deep. You turned your head, catching sight of Aaron outside. He was smiling at something your mom said, and even from here, you saw it — the warmth, the ease, the love in his eyes when they drifted toward you.

Your chest tightened with a swell of emotion.

Spencer nudged your shoulder lightly, trying to cut the seriousness. “So yeah. Don’t screw it up.”