Allie stayed with Curtis's family for a few more days before heading home to see her mom and sister. She spent her mornings helping Jane in the kitchen, listening to stories about Curtis as a child—how he once tried to "invest" his lunch money in marbles, how he cried when his goldfish died, how he built a mini "office" in his bedroom just to mimic his dad.
In the afternoons, she sat with his father, who proudly showed her his coin and guitar collections, explaining the history of each piece with childlike excitement.
Allie, in return, made them her famous banana latte—sweet, creamy, and comforting. Jane loved it so much she made her promise to teach her the recipe. Before they left, Curtis's mom packed a care basket filled with freshly picked lemons and a warm sourdough loaf, baked that morning.
"Bring these to your mom," Jane said warmly. "Tell her thank you—for raising an angel."
Curtis's dad chimed in, "And tell her we said hello—and that she raised a daughter with the kindest heart we've ever met."
Allie felt tears gather in her eyes. She hugged them both tightly before heading out with Curtis. On the drive, Curtis held her hand over the console, thumb tracing circles on her skin. The afternoon sun spilled through the windshield, soft and golden.
"If I knew how much I was missing," Allie sighed dreamily, "I would've quit my job way earlier."
Curtis laughed and leaned over to kiss her temple. "You didn't have to. You've got all the time in the world now."
The rest of the ride was filled with laughter and chatter. Allie couldn't stop talking—telling him everything his mom had told her: embarrassing childhood stories, cute photos, how he once swore he'd become a marine biologist after watching Free Willy and even took diving lessons because of it.
Curtis tried to defend himself but mostly failed, laughing along. He glanced at her often, mesmerized by how her eyes lit up with every story. She was radiant—his entire world framed in sunlight.
At some point, she fell asleep mid-sentence, her head resting against the window.Curtis slowed at every bump, careful not to wake her. He looked at her and whispered, "Even in your sleep, you're beautiful."
When they arrived, he parked in front of a quaint ancestral home that looked like a postcard from another era—whitewashed walls, iron gates, lush garden blooming with wildflowers.
Curtis gently brushed her hair from her face."Babe, wake up," he whispered.
"We're here."
Allie blinked awake, her vision clearing to find his soft, boyish smile. "We're… home?"
She smiled back, climbed out of the car, and led him through the front gate.
"Mom! We're here!" she called out.
Instead, Raffi appeared at the top of the stairs, shrieking, "ALLIE?! IS THAT YOU?!" Her voice was so loud the entire neighborhood probably heard.
She came running down, still wearing half her curlers. The moment she saw Curtis standing behind her sister, she froze mid-step, eyes wide.
"Allie!" she squealed again, throwing her arms around her. "Oh my God, I missed you so much!"
Then she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror—curlers and all—and gasped. "Oh my freaking God, why didn't you tell me I still had curlers on?! This is so embarrassing!"
Allie burst out laughing—loud, carefree, unfiltered. It was a side of her Curtis hadn't seen before, and he couldn't help but smile.
"Raffi, go fix yourself! You missed me that much, huh?" Allie teased, pretending to chase her. Raffi dodged her playfully, yelling, "Eww, no hugs until I look human again!"
Their laughter filled the house, echoing through the walls.
Curtis stood there by the doorway, still holding the basket of lemons and sourdough, watching them fondly. The house smelled like home—fresh flowers and brewed tea. Sunlight streamed through the windows, glinting off antique picture frames and vintage trinkets. The whole place felt timeless, cozy, and full of love.
Then a gentle but firm voice came from the kitchen. "Girls! Behave. We have company!"
Allie's mom appeared—graceful, warm, with the same sharp eyes and soft smile as her daughter.
"I'm sorry," she said to Curtis, shaking her head. "When these two see each other, it's like a tornado. The house doesn't survive."
Curtis straightened a little and said politely, "I'm sorry for entering without greeting you first, ma'am."
"Don't be so formal, Kit," she said, her voice kind. "Call me Sally. I've been waiting to meet you for so long. Thank you for taking care of my girl."
Before he could react, she hugged him—despite his hands being full.
"Oh! Sorry, my hands—"
She laughed, helping him with the basket. "My goodness, what's all this?"
Curtis grinned. "A sourdough my mom baked this morning. And some lemons from her garden—she wanted to send them to you."
Sally's eyes softened. "How thoughtful. You didn't have to, but thank you. Please, come in."
Moments later, Allie and Raffi joined them again. Allie ran to her mom, throwing her arms around her. "I'm home, Momma."
Sally stroked her hair, voice trembling. "You did well, Allison. You made us proud."
Curtis watched quietly, his heart full. Now he understood everything about Allie—her warmth, her resilience, her tenderness. She was her mother's daughter through and through.
"Come, Kit," Sally said, guiding him to the living room. "Make yourself comfortable."
They all sat together—Raffi beside her mom, Allie beside Curtis.Raffi finally turned to him with a mischievous grin and held out her hand. "Rafaella—Raffi for short. Nice to finally meet you. Sorry for the hair disaster earlier."
Curtis chuckled and shook her hand. "No apology needed. It was… adorable."
"Well, Kit," Raffi continued, eyeing him playfully, "you're quite the looker. You could have any girl, so why my sister? The crybaby, clumsy, talk-too-much type?"
"Raffi!" Allie squealed, half-mortified.
"And a tattletale," Raffi added with a laugh. "Just kidding."
Curtis smiled, amused, while Allie buried her face in her hands.
Sally joined in the teasing. "Kit, how was the drive? I hope my daughter didn't give you a hard time."
"Mom!" Allie exclaimed again.
The room burst into laughter. Curtis just smiled and pulled her close. "That's okay," he said softly. "I like her this way."
Lunch followed—a beautiful spread of baked salmon, Mediterranean salad, wild rice, and cucumber tzatziki. The table buzzed with conversation. Sally asked about Japan; Raffi grilled Curtis with playful interrogation; Allie kept sneaking glances at him, proud and glowing.
After the meal, the sisters washed the dishes together while Curtis joined Sally in the backyard. She led him to a small grotto lined with flowers, the air heavy with jasmine.
"This house belonged to Allie's great-great-grandparents," Sally said softly. "It's been passed down for generations. Everything you see here was built with love. We just keep adding our touch."
Curtis looked around, humbled. "It's beautiful."
Then he hesitated, glancing back through the window to make sure Allie was busy. "Mrs. Kelley," he began, voice steady but earnest, "I know we just met in person, but… I love Allie. Truly. I'm not rushing anything, but I know in my heart she's the one. I'd like to ask your permission—to one day marry her."
Sally smiled, eyes glistening. "Curtis, I've known about you for a while. Allie tells me everything. I know about her fears, her trust issues—how much pain she carried because of her father. But you…" she paused, her voice thick with emotion, "you healed parts of her I thought would stay broken. You made her believe in love again. So yes—you have my blessing."
Curtis's breath caught. "Thank you, Mrs. Kelley."
She smiled warmly. "No—thank you for loving my Allie. And please, call me Mom."
"Allie! Kit! Tea's ready!" Raffi called from inside.
They returned to the living room where Allie had set the table with toasted bread, jam, and freshly brewed tea. The four of them sat together, the afternoon sun spilling through the window, laughter mingling with the scent of lemon and jasmine.
For the first time, everything felt complete. Curtis wasn't just part of Allie's life anymore—he was part of her family.