23. Keith
KEITH
A FATHER’S BLESSING
When life was difficult—and finding out that my fiancée was a mythological shapeshifting creature wasn’t exactly easy—I found that doing something with my hands and shutting off the majority of my brain was the best way to process things without winding myself up into a tizzy.
So, I worked on my canoe.
I hadn’t touched it in many months because I’d been working on the wedding pergola, but when I heard that most of the Rizolis got married in Olivia’s backyard, I wanted to make something the couple could stand under while celebrating their big day with everyone that they loved.
Hopefully, others would also make use of it because I doubted I could make personalized wedding pergolas for every couple.
Then again, considering how loaded Olivia and her family were, she could probably buy the supplies ten times over and not even blink.
That was almost harder to wrap my head around than the whole werewolf thing.
Ah, sorry, shifter thing.
Because while some parts of lore were correct with the aversion to silver and wolfsbane, the affliction wasn’t transferable with a bite and was also less affliction and more an inheritance.
From what Olivia had told me, they were shapeshifters.
Close to the dawn of the universe, they had been chosen by some deity or another to take the form of a wolf.
They had enhanced strength, incredibly fast reflexes, accelerated healing, and lived much longer than humans. So Nonna Rizoli had not been exaggerating her age.
“At least my life is truly never boring,” I mused to myself as I continued to mount strips to the hull.
I was nearing the center, where I’d have to use the circular saw to custom-cut a piece of wood since the strips weren’t the right shape for that final piece when everything beautifully came together.
Is that a metaphor for my life?
Before my mother had decided to move out, I thought my life was perfectly orderly. Just the way it needed to be. But I’d since learned it hadn’t been orderly, it had been safe, boringly so, and now it was so full of different experiences, flavors, and people.
I was never going to go back to that shallow existence again.
No, whether it was were—shifters, or tipsy cousins, or any of the other bumps in the road that came from a happy union, I was thrilled to experience it all.
Knock-knock!
I looked up sharply at that, surprised at the strong rap on my door. That wasn’t how Olivia knocked. Amanda and I didn’t really hang out on our own that often, and it certainly wasn’t my mother so… who?
Maybe it’s an errant vacuum salesman. That had been a thing when I was a child, but no one went door-to-door anymore. But when I answered the door, it wasn’t any sort of solicitation at all.
Enzo Rizoli, Olivia’s father, stood on my doorstep with a stern expression on his face.
“Oh, Mr. Rizoli!” I blurted in lieu of a more welcoming greeting. What could I say? I was surprised to see him. Other than a comic-book superhero, he was about the last person I expected on my doorstep. “Did you need something?”
I realized that the chances of him being at my house casually were nil. Was this because I had found out about her family’s magical nature? I figured they didn’t want word about them getting out to humans, and despite what some bullies had said when I was growing up, I was human.
“May I come in?”
There was probably some rule about not inviting a disgruntled wolf shifter into my house after ruining his son’s engagement party, but I wasn’t about to say no to my (hopefully) future father-in-law, so I stepped to the side and gestured inward.
“Please. Can I get you anything? Coffee? Tea?”
“No, thank you.”
All right then, so I couldn’t distract myself from the awkwardness or anxiety by doing a simple task. Quickly, my mind rattled through all the things that I could do to be a good host.
“Would you like a tour?”
“Sure.”
Actually, that was somehow worse.
Nevertheless, the words were out of my mouth, so I went about showing him my modest home.
While it wasn’t anything like his mansion (in fact, I was sure three of my houses could fit into his with room to spare), it wasn’t exactly meager either.
My mother had worked incredibly hard to save up for it and had got it for a good price because it had needed a lot of work.
She’d done most of that work herself or bartered with people until I began to show a real aptitude for woodwork and started doing more heavy-duty DIY.
Plenty of people my age would never get the chance to own a home themselves, so I wasn’t ever going to take my place for granted.
I stuck to the first floor, trying to be witty, but Mr. Rizoli didn’t really engage. He nodded, made the occasional listening sound, and complimented some architectural choice I’d made. He especially liked the bannisters on the stairs I didn’t lead him up.
“You are limping.”
“Huh?”
I’d been showing him the crown molding I was proud of when he said that. It knocked me out of my groove, and I wasn’t sure how to respond.
“Yeah. Leg’s still healing up.”
“Still?”
“Yes.”
“I see.”
And that was that. Neither of us was winning any conversational awards anytime soon.
I continued on as best I could, but it wasn’t until I led him out to the workshop that I got more than a few utterances from him.
“What’s this?” he asked, immediately going over to my canoe. “You building a boat?”
“Canoe, but yeah. Getting close to being finished. It’s my pet project. I’ve done furniture for most of my life, so I wanted to expand my horizons to something more practical.”
He gave me a look with a raised eyebrow, and suddenly it was like I had a dad who was now giving me a very dad-esque expression. Huh. That was a new feeling.
“A boat is practical?”
“Uhm, perhaps not in a traditional sense, but somehow, it feels more practical than a custom, rotating bookshelf.”
“I see.”
He walked around it, gaze keen, and I let him do his thing. I had no idea how much woodworking knowledge the man had, but considering the things I’d heard about him carving his life out from nothing when he immigrated to America, it was likely that he’d done some trade work sometime in his past.
“Is good.”
“Thank you.”
“Clean lines.”
“I appreciate that.”
The awkwardness was growing thicker again, and I really had no idea what we were doing, but eventually Mr. Rizoli sighed.
“I am sorry.”
My brain skipped like it was a record owned by a particularly clumsy DJ. “What was that?”
“I…” He sighed again and walked over to the chair at my tool bench. He looked like he was going to sit, then seemingly changed his mind and turned to face me. “I apologize for what my nephews did to you. They didn’t realize how… lasting many injuries can be for humans.”
“You don’t need to apologize for them,” I said, relief beginning to bubble up in me that this wasn’t a shovel talk or threat to stay away from his daughter.
Even though I respected that he was something called an alpha and a leader of maybe a hundred or so shifters, nothing would keep me away from Olivia other than Olivia herself.
“They’re young and stupid, and young and stupid people tend to do young and stupid stuff. ”
“I… yes. Young. Stupid. This I agree with.”
When he sighed for a third time, he sat, rubbing his palms along his legs. I got the feeling I was experiencing something that didn’t happen all that often.
“I… I am not sure what I am doing here.”
That makes two of us.
“I never thought one of my children would want a… a human as a mate.”
“I can see why you wouldn’t expect that,” I said diplomatically, leaning against the wall.
“From what Olivia has told me, my people haven’t always been the greatest to yours.
” Story of human history, right? We were such an interesting contradiction of running into burning buildings and forest fires to save people and helpless animals, while also hunting others mercilessly to extinction.
“Si. We are so proud, and there are so many young men who—” He shook his head, cutting himself off.
“They are not important. What is important is that my daughter loves you. Something she has never said about any other man. Not when she was young. While her sisters were having crushes or dating, she was figuring out logarithms in Excel to help streamline parts of our business. She has spent her whole life dedicated to famiglia.”
“I love your daughter too. Truly, from the bottom of my heart.”
“Yes, this I know. I can tell. It is just… You see, even though I may not look it to you, I am getting older, and sometimes when I wake up I don’t recognize the world anymore.
Technology always changes, always grows.
Us shifters are living among humans, even marrying them, apparently.
Traditions that we once held so dear are now more harmful than good.
“Everything is smaller, and what few magical communities we knew are drying up right and left. So the alpha in me says that I must protect my pack. My famiglia. I would give my life for them. It says that you are an interloper and that your kind cannot be trusted. That your people have been the leading cause of death of all shifters.”
I listened intently, because I was sure that what was happening in front of me was quite rare. Not just with Mr. Rizoli apologizing, but also with him verbalizing some fears that had no doubt been haunting him for quite a while. I certainly didn’t envy his position.
“So, you see, I am very protective of my pack and only want the best for them, and every instinct screams that you are not the best for them. But at the same time, my darling Olivia, mi principessa, my last little girl, loves you so much that she was willing to leave the pack for you.”
My stomach nearly dropped out of me at that, and I knew that my eyes flew wide.
I would never, ever ask Olivia to abandon the people she loved so deeply.
That hadn’t even been an option on the table when we discussed what our next steps were the morning after I had learned everything.
The fact that she had been willing to do that entirely on her own…
it truly touched me. Now, without a doubt, I knew exactly how much Olivia was willing to give up to be with me.
I just hope I’m worth it.
“I—”
“No,” Mr. Rizoli said simply. “Now is no time for you to speak. In a moment.”
All right, I could work with that.
“Maybe some alpha would laugh at their daughter for such a thing. But from a very young age, my Olivia has proven that she’s fine on her own. I could always depend on her to be good and help. If push came to shove, she would be the one to prosper without us.”
That had to have been a painful revelation, and I felt for him, but I also knew in my heart that it was true.
Olivia was one hell of a woman, and when she set her mind to something, it always got done.
I admired that about her. It was one of the many things that had pushed me to be better about so much in my own life.
There was no shame in trying something and failing, but by God, I wasn’t going to be the reason that failure took place.
“At first I thought, how could she do this to us? Didn’t she love us? Hadn’t we done everything for her? Raised her well, bought her whatever she wanted? But then I realized I never once asked her what she wanted. I assumed it was the same as everybody else.
“So now, for the first time in her life, she is asking for something. And my baby girl has always been smart, too smart, so I am not so arrogant to think that I must always know better than her. Sometimes, yes. But not always.”
Finally, his eyes met mine, and there I saw the same warm amber that was in Olivia’s gaze, although his were heavy with time, wisdom, and so much experience that I could only hope he’d share it with me one day.
It was still a bit strange to hear a father monologue about how part of him was so sure that I was dangerous and a threat, but I didn’t let that distract me.
He was a man figuring it out the same way the rest of us were: one step at a time.
“So, if my Olivia sees a future of happiness with you after never once seeing the same in any of the young suitors her mama and aunties tried to set her up with, then I see it too.”
He stood, and although he was quite a bit shorter than me, the way he squared his shoulders and strode forward, he might as well have been seven feet tall. Maybe it was a man thing (wolf thing?). But I recognized the steely strength that came from truly caring and protecting so many people.
It took him only a moment to reach me, and while there was a flicker of apprehension up my spine, I held still, waiting to see what the patriarch would do.
He offered me his hand, his voice steady as he spoke. “I give you my blessing for my daughter’s hand in marriage.”
I…
I had never even thought about what it would feel like to hear those words, and I wasn’t prepared for the rush that hit me.
It wasn’t like Olivia was property and Enzo was giving me permission to steal her away.
Not at all. No, I saw it for exactly what it was: acceptance.
He had acknowledged that I was different, that I was scary, that I was a sign of a change in the world that he wasn’t entirely sure how to navigate, but despite all that, he still wanted me to be a part of his daughter’s life.
I couldn’t have asked for a kinder compliment.
I took his hand, and our palms squeezed together. We stayed in that stance only for a breath before he pulled me into an embrace.
“Please, be patient with us. We are all learning. But I have never seen mio tesoro beam like she does with you.”
“Thank you, Mr. Rizoli. You don’t know how much this means to me.”
We parted, and he gave me a hearty slap on the arm that reminded me so much of Riccardo. Now I knew where Olivia’s brother got that habit from.
“Think nothing of it!” Suddenly, his tone dropped. “But, should you ever hurt her...”
Despite the inherent threat, I grinned. “Don’t worry. If I ever make Olivia unhappy, I’ll supply you with the shovel to do the deed.”
Another clap on my arm along with a hearty laugh, but when his mirth ebbed, I was treated to some very sharp teeth in his grin.
“Don’t worry, I will not need a shovel.”
Like father, like daughter.
“Good to know.”