27. Magnolia Steel
Chapter 27
Magnolia Steel
A whirlwind of excitement and doubt churns inside me, my stomach twisting with every mile that brings us closer to Alex’s childhood home. Meeting his parents feels monumental—too monumental for a relationship with an expiration date. Isn’t this the kind of step you take when you’re planning to stay, not when there’s a countdown hanging over you like a ticking clock?
Alex reaches over, his hand warm as it closes around mine, his thumb tracing slow, deliberate circles over my knuckles. It’s a small gesture, but it soothes me, his touch steady even as my thoughts spiral.
“Relax, Magnolia. My parents are going to love you.”
I force a smile, trying to let his confidence wash over me, but the pull of one single question tugs harder. Why are we doing this?
We’re living in a fantasy, pretending that three months can stretch forever, that meeting his family isn’t a milestone meant for a relationship we don’t have. I glance at him, his profile sharp and steady, his grip on my hand unwavering. He looks so certain, so unshaken by the reality we’re staring down.
But I’m not.
Because deep down, I know this is more than a visit. It’s a step forward in a relationship that isn’t supposed to move beyond the boundaries we’ve set. And yet, here we are—me about to step into his world, about to meet two of the most important people in his life.
The closer we get, the harder it is to ignore the truth: we’re pretending the clock isn’t ticking, as if the time we have left isn’t slipping away with every passing second.
A fresh wave of nerves unfurls as we approach the front door, dredging up memories I’ve tried to bury. I was never the girl a guy brought home to meet his mama—not when everyone in town knew exactly who Robin Steel was. Bartender, bad mom, occasional husband-stealer. No guy’s mother wanted her son anywhere near the daughter of a woman like her.
I swallow hard, forcing air into my lungs, and glance sideways at Alex. He doesn’t know how deeply those roots run, how they’ve wrapped themselves around parts of me that still ache, no matter how far I’ve come.
As if sensing the storm brewing inside me, Alex squeezes my hand, his thumb brushing over my skin in a way that feels like both comfort and promise. “My parents are down-to-earth. You’ll see.”
I try to hold on to that, let it calm the anxiety swirling inside me. But the ghosts of my past are hard to shake, whispering doubts I’m not ready to face.
You’re not good enough.
You have no business here.
As we make our way up the sidewalk, I tighten my grip on the bouquet of flowers I picked out this morning—vibrant and tropical, a nod to Alex’s Samoan roots. At the time, I considered them a thoughtful gesture, something to show his mom I cared. But now, as I stand here, they feel more like a bundle of nerves wrapped in cellophane and ribbon, every bit of my anxiety carried straight to the door and presented like a lamb to the slaughter.
Before I can second-guess myself, the door swings open, and warmth spills out like a welcome embrace. Alex’s mom, Malie, steps forward, her face lighting up with a smile so radiant, it momentarily leaves me speechless. She’s stunning in a way that’s both natural and commanding—glossy black hair streaked with silver cascading over her shoulders, her features soft but interwoven with a quiet strength.
“Tinā,” Alex says, filled with reverence as he greets her in Samoan. “This is Magnolia.”
Her smile widens, and before I can stammer out a polite hello, she steps forward and wraps me in a hug that’s surprisingly firm and filled with unmistakable warmth.
“Magnolia, it’s so lovely to meet you.” Sincere warmth radiates through her words.
“It’s wonderful to meet you too.” I lift the bouquet, the blooms trembling slightly in my grip. “I thought you might enjoy these.”
Malie’s eyes brighten as she takes the flowers, her expression one of genuine delight. “Oh, Magnolia, these are stunning,” she says, turning the bouquet to admire the vivid, tropical hues. “They remind me of home. How thoughtful of you. Thank you.”
Her reaction is so heartfelt, I feel some of my nerves ease. As far as first impressions go, maybe I’m not as out of place as I feared.
Beside her is Alex’s father, Alexander, a striking contrast to his son. Where Alex’s dark, rugged features reflect his Samoan heritage, Alexander’s fair skin, sharp blue eyes, and light blond hair hint at his Swedish roots. He’s tall, though not nearly quite as broad or commanding as his son.
He comes forward with a warm smile. “Magnolia, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”
“It’s so nice to meet you both,” I manage, my nerves softening under the warmth that seems to flow from both of them.
Mr. Sebring’s expression immediately puts me at ease—like I’ve stepped into a place where I’m already welcome.
Alex and I follow his parents through the house, and despite its grandeur, it’s the inviting warmth that strikes me most. Soft lighting bathes the space, accentuating decor that feels more thoughtful than showy—family photos on the walls, well-loved furniture, and small touches that speak of a home built on love rather than wealth.
We step into the kitchen, and the rich, tantalizing aroma of a home-cooked meal wraps around me like a welcoming embrace. The counters are laden with vibrant dishes, each one more inviting than the last.
Malie moves gracefully by the stove, focused on the final touches of what looks like a true feast. I glance at the spread, then at her, feeling a little out of place but eager to contribute. “Can I help with anything?”
Malie’s eyes crinkle with kindness. “You’re our guest tonight, Magnolia.” Then she winks, adding with a playful lilt, “But you can help next time.”
Next time.
Malie motions to the colorful spread with a proud smile. “I’ve prepared a traditional Samoan meal for us. We have faiai eleni, fa’apapa, and sapasui.”
My smile widens as I take in the vibrant dishes. “I’ve never had Samoan food before, so I’m really looking forward to this.”
Alex steps behind me, his hand brushing lightly against my back. “You’re in for a treat. No one does it better than Tinā.”
Malie laughs softly at his praise, waving him off. “Of course he says that. I raised him on this food.” She gestures to the dishes with an inviting nod. “Let’s move everything to the dining room. Family-style is the only way to eat this meal.”
I instinctively step forward, reaching for one of the serving platters. “Here, let me help.”
Malie raises an eyebrow, the hint of a smile tugging at her lips, but relents with a small nod. “Thank you, Magnolia. Just be careful—the fa’apapa is hot.”
Together, we carry the dishes to the dining room, where a long table is set with understated elegance. White linens drape gracefully, neatly folded napkins rest at each place, and the soft glow of candles creates an inviting warmth. Once everything is in place, we settle in, the atmosphere shifting into something even cozier, more intimate.
Malie gestures to the large bowl in the center of the table. “This is faiai eleni—mackerel baked in coconut cream with onions and vegetables. It’s a dish that always reminds me of home.”
She motions to a plate of golden bread beside it. “And this is fa’apapa—coconut bread with a touch of sweetness. Perfect for scooping up the other dishes.”
Alex leans forward, his excitement evident. “You’ve got to try it with the sapasui. It’s Samoan-style chop suey. My favorite.”
Curiosity piqued, I take a bite of each, the flavors bursting on my tongue—rich, sweet, savory, and completely unique. “This is incredible.”
Malie beams at the compliment, her pride unmistakable. “I’m so glad you like it. Food is a way of bringing people together—it’s how we share our hearts. And food is one of the best ways to share our love and culture. It’s what mothers do—feed everyone until they’re stuffed.”
Her words stir something bittersweet inside me. That’s not what my mother did. Robin Steel’s idea of love was always about taking care of herself, not nurturing others. My grandmother, Charlene, was no different. Love wasn’t baked into casseroles or poured into homemade pies; it was fleeting, selfish, conditional. The kind of warmth and care Malie radiates feels foreign, like something plucked from the pages of a novel I once read but could never imagine living.
Malie’s voice gently pulls me from my thoughts. “Where are you from, Magnolia?”
“I grew up in Mississippi, but I live on the East Coast now, in South Carolina.”
“Aleki says you work in interior design?”
“I do—specifically, the psychology of decor. I love what I do. Every project is different, and I get to think about how spaces affect people’s moods and energy. There’s a lot of psychology involved—choosing colors, textures, and layouts that make people feel welcome, calm, or even inspired.”
Malie nods, her interest clear. “That sounds fascinating. I’ve never thought about how much intention goes into a room.”
“It’s incredible how much impact a well-designed space can have. It’s not only about aesthetics—it’s about how a space can make someone feel safe, happy, or even empowered. It’s subtle, but it matters.”
Alex’s hand brushes mine under the table, a small but reassuring gesture.
Alexander’s eyes brighten with intrigue as he exchanges a glance with Malie. “What an intriguing concept. We’re planning a remodel of the hotels next year, and someone with your skills could make a real difference.”
“It sounds like an exciting project.”
“We want to refresh the spaces. Our goal is to create an atmosphere of elegant luxury—where guests feel not only pampered but also valued. It sounds like you’d know exactly how to make that happen.”
Malie’s lips curve into a smile as she looks between us, her eyes sparkling. “Perhaps you should hire Magnolia. I bet she’d bring a fresh, unique perspective to the Melbourne locations.”
Her expression softens with curiosity. “Do you see yourself staying where you are, or could you be lured away?”
I hesitate, her question settling over me as I glance down at my plate. “Actually, I’ll be returning to the U.S. in a month when my assignment here wraps up.”
A gentle quiet settles over the table, the moment tinged with something unspoken. “Well, that’s too bad. I hope your time in Australia has been unforgettable.”
My gaze drifts to Alex, catching the way his eyes fix on me, soft and filled with something that makes my chest tighten. “It’s been more memorable than I ever could’ve imagined.”
Malie’s smile widens, her words carrying a gentle excitement. “We’re all so happy you’ll be joining us in Samoa next week. The rest of the family is eager to meet you.”
Alex groans, rolling his eyes as he shoots his mother a playful look. “Ugh, Tinā! That was supposed to be a surprise.”
“Oops.” Malie claps a hand over her mouth, her eyes widening with guilt. “Sorry, Aleki.”
Surprised, I glance between them. “You didn’t tell me it was time for one of your trips to Samoa.”
“It wasn’t supposed to be this soon, but my grandfather’s health has been declining, so we want to move the trip up. And” —he pauses a moment— “I couldn’t imagine being away from you for a whole week when you only have a few weeks left here. I want you to come with me.”
I look back at Malie and Alexander, their warm, expectant smiles easing the nervous flutter in my chest. “Of course I’ll come. I’m looking forward to it—truly. Thank you so much for including me.”
After dinner, I follow Malie into the kitchen, eager to help with the cleanup. She nods in approval as I start stacking plates and transferring leftovers into storage containers while she loads the dishwasher. The quiet rhythm of our tasks fills the space, but I can feel her eyes on me—a gaze that’s warm yet probing, like she’s peeling back layers to see what lies beneath.
She raises an eyebrow, a teasing glint in her expression. “You know, I’ve never seen Aleki this smitten before. He talks about you constantly—always with that special look in his eyes.”
Heat rushes to my cheeks, and I glance down, a shy smile tugging at my lips. “I really enjoy being with Alex. He’s… well, he’s incredible.”
Malie’s expression softens, her pride shining through. “Perhaps I’m biased, but I’d say incredible is the right word. He’s always been a good man, but with you, he seems happy for a change.”
Her words give me pause, a quiet ripple of surprise moving through me. Alex, unhappy? It’s hard to picture the confident, self-assured man I know being anything less than content. But then again, I’ve seen flashes of something deeper in him—moments when his jokes faltered, when his silence spoke volumes. He hides it well, but he carries some kind of torment, one I don’t fully understand yet.
Has he been pretending for everyone else’s sake?
She glances down at the container she’s sealing, her movements slowing as if she’s weighing her next words. “What happens when you go back to the U.S.?”
Her question takes me by surprise. “I’m not sure.”
Malie doesn’t know about the agreement Alex and I made—three months of uncomplicated fun, a fixed end date with no strings attached. It was supposed to be simple, but nothing about what we have now feels simple anymore.
She studies me for a moment. “Well, I hope the two of you figure out something. It would be a shame to let distance decide for you. So, dear, put your ear down close to your soul and listen hard.”
Her words hit me harder than I expect, their weight settling over me like a heavy, unshakable truth.
“I’d hate to see you part ways. You’re good for Aleki… unlike the last girl he dated.”
As the evening winds down, I find myself watching Malie and Alexander more closely. There’s something about the way they move together, an unspoken rhythm that speaks of decades of trust and love. A shared glance, a fleeting smile—they’re a portrait of what I’ve always imagined a family should be.
I like them more than I expected to, more than I should. There’s a comfort in their presence that feels so foreign yet so magnetic, like stepping into a world I didn’t know I was missing out on.
For a fleeting moment, I let myself wonder what it would be like to belong to a family like this. To have Malie and Alexander not only as Alex’s parents but as my family too?
But reality cuts through the thought like a sharp edge, pulling me back to the plan. This is temporary. The life I’ve begun to picture—the one where I’m part of this family, where Alex and I are building something lasting—isn’t part of the deal we made. It’s a beautiful dream, but that’s all it can ever be. A fleeting fantasy, destined to dissolve the moment my time here is over.