A/N: You can read the blurb and two sneak peeks from KERI'S STORY - Sentiments & Reason - on my blog (dilyanakyoseva.wordpress.com). The link to the Quotes & Sneak Peeks section of my blog is given as an external link. There's also a third sneak peek, posted in the Wattpad Block Party - Winter Edition II book on KellyAnneBlount's page.

If you want the links leading to each sneak peek, comment and I'll send them to you :)

*****

"Should we ring the bell, or knock, or..." Rhys cut me off with a chuckle:

"You know I live in this house, right, Riley?" He reached for the door handle. "We'll just walk in."

"Walk in," I muttered, taking in a deep breath and wiped my left palm in my jeans; the right one was clutching the wine bottle tightly.

"Riley," Rhys' free hand encircled my wrist. "You look amazing and they'll love you," he said gently and leaned forward to kiss me. I closed my eyes, enjoying this brief comforting gesture. "Are you ready?" He murmured next to my mouth and I nodded.

Rhys straightened up and led me inside.

"We're here," he shouted once we were in the hallway. "Give me that." He took the wine and put in on a corner table, before helping me out of my jacket; he placed the clothing on a hanger, next to his.

"In the kitchen," a woman's voice had replied. I took the wine and we followed the sound. Wooden cabinets filled the room we walked in, some with glass allowing me to see the neatly stored china inside, others hiding their content. A round table, again from wood, was laden with different meals and salads and a few large, plastic bottles of sodas. A woman with white streaks in her light brown, almost golden hair was diligently mashing potatoes in a large bowl.

"There you two are," she greeted us with a smile which reached her eyes, the same color as Rhys'.

"Hey, mom," he kissed her on the cheek and pushed a strand of hair which had escaped from her bun behind her ear. "Riley," he moved aside so there was nothing between me and his parent, "this is my mom, Jacquetta Flemings."

"Hello, Mrs. Flemings." I offered my wine-free hand to her. She placed the bowl on a counter and shook it.
"Jackie. No need for formalities," she assured me. "Is that for me?"

"Oh... Yes," I handed her the bottle. "Rhys said you like it."

She twisted her neck to look at her son, a smirk coming on her face.

"So you told Riley what I like, but you didn't think to ask him what he wanted for dinner?" The woman reprimand, but her tone was soft. "He did say you share a taste for tart cherry juice so we stocked on that," she was back to talking to me.

"Overstocked, you mean." Kennedy slipped into the room and once again I was stricken by the color of his blinkers. "She made me buy four bottles. Four." He reached to take a slice of ham, but his mom slapped his arm lightly.

"Wash your hands first, young man."

"It's not like you actually carried the bottles," a male voice I'd never heard before commented and I turned towards the doorway. The man who stood there looked a lot like Rhys but about twenty-five or thirty years older. One other thing set him apart from his second eldest son - a set of bright blue eyes; they were so much like Kennedy's, except they shone not with mischief, but with age and maturity.

"We brought them with the car," he said and I wondered what he was talking about until his youngest child replied, before turning the tap off after washing his hands:

"I still had to carry all four of them into the house."

"You wouldn't have had to if you made two rounds," the father noted, ruffling the boy's unruly hair, then turning to me. "Hello, Riley. It's good to meet you, son."

His handshake was firm.

"It's good to meet you, sir," I replied, even more nervous because of the way he'd addressed me. Did he call all guys that or was it because I was dating Rhys?

"Tom will do," he smiled, not as widely as his wife, but it was enough to multiply the wrinkles around his eyes; eyes that still made me uncomfortable with their vivid hue.

"Carter, get down here and help me set the table!" Mrs. Flemings shouted, craning her neck towards the door.

"I can help you with that," I offered in a shameless attempt to suck up to her. The warm welcome had done little to ease my anxiety; I was still desperate to make a good first impression.

"That's sweet, but there's no need, Riley. You, Rhys and Tom go to the dining room; Carter and Kennedy will help me serve... If the latter doesn't eat everything on his way there," she added, her voice becoming slightly sharp.

"I'm a growing boy," Kennedy stuffed so much ham in his mouth, we could barely make out his next words, "I need sustenance."

His mother shook her head with a sigh and pointed to a tray with what was left of the ham slices and a basket with breadsticks.

"Just take that to the dining room, smarty pants. Carter!" She shouted the name and we heard a thumping of feet, accompanied by an impatient 'I'm coming!'

Just as Rhys, his father and I were about to walk out of the kitchen, a brown-haired boy walked in, his eyes glued to mobile, his fingers nimbly drumming all over the shining screen.

"Let go of that thing and say hi to Riley," his mother commanded with a hint of annoyance.

"Hi, Riley," the teenager greeted without looking at me; he didn't let go of the phone either. I opened my mouth to return the half-hearted greeting, but his mother spoke before me:

"Carter Flemings." Her voice was cool, but stern, the authoritative inflection reminding me of Rhys on the first night we met: he'd given Alec and the rest an order and they'd carried it out; Carter hesitated, but typed a few last words and put the phone in his pocket.

"Now greet Riley properly," her tone hadn't changed.

"Hello, Riley," the boy finally looked at me; like the majority of the Flemings brothers, he's inherited his mother's eyes.

"Hi," I replied without much enthusiasm. Something told me that this particular teenager and I were not going to become best of pals; he didn't seem eager to make a new friend either.

"Come on," Rhys entwined our fingers and led me out of the kitchen, his father walking out as well.

"Not you," Jackie spoke from behind us. "You are helping Kennedy and me with serving the dinner."

I heard an irritated sigh, but no other protests.

When I thought of Carter, I couldn't help compare him to Jenny whenever she actually had to do something while at work. I hoped this first impression would be wrong though; I didn't want to be on bed terms with anyone from my boyfriend's family.

We walked into the dining room where ten wooden chairs surrounded a large, old table of the same material, covered with a pristine white cloth. Tom sat at the head and Rhys to his right, which left me at Rhys' right. A tray with a renewed supply of ham slices and breadsticks was positioned in front of me before Kennedy dashed out of the room to bring something else; Carter placed the bowl of mashed potatoes next to it with one hand; in the other gleamed the screen of his phone.

Everett joined us along with his wife Lisa - a tiny, pale woman with a pleasant face - while the boys and their mother were still serving. Like me, Lisa had offered to help, but Jackie had refused her too. We all made small talk - Tom seemed interested in how I worked my magic with cream on coffee - while the last of the food was brought. In less than ten minutes the whole table was covered with cutlery and mouth-watering dishes.

"Now, that we are here, let's..." The father paused, his gaze aimed at his second youngest son whose eyes were on his lap. "Carter, put the phone away; you'll text with Mel later."

 The boy's hands moved even faster, probably to type 'ttyl', before he reluctantly pocketed his phone.

"Now that we are all here, let's dig in," Tom finished and everyone began asking everyone else to pass them something.

"Carter does that all the time," Kennedy, who was to my right noted, tilting his head to his other side, where the boy in question sat. "It starts in... Are you done with the potatoes, Riley?"

I nodded and handed him the bowl, taking a smaller one filled with peas.

"It starts in the morning; his alarm is a recording of Melanie's lover prattle," he began to explain; after he was done scooping from the mashed potatoes. I handed him the peas, but he shook his head and went for the ham. "He then texts her; if she replies, he knows she's awake so he calls her. When they hand up, he texts her. After that, he takes a shower, after which he texts her; then he eats while texting her; then they go to school and in the brief moments they are separated, they text each other. Then they come here or at Mel's place and when one of them goes home, they text. They also text during dinner, before calling each other in the evening, after calling each other in the evening and..." He added a large steak to his already overflowing plate, "wanna guess what is the last thing they do before going to sleep?"

"They text each other," I replied, not being able to hide the disgust in my tone. Not only did this sound clingy and obsessed, but I dreaded to ask about Carter's phone bill.

"Yep." Kennedy bit into a breadstick. "I can't wait until they get married next year and Carter moves out."

"They are getting married?" My voice rose enough to attract everyone's attention.

"Who is?" Rhys asked.

"Carter and Melisa, next year," Kennedy replied with a mouth full of ham.

"Oh." With that reply from Rhys everyone went back to chatting about whatever they were talking while Kennedy was sharing his brother's highly diverse daily routine with me.

"They'd both be eighteen," Kennedy explained. "And they'd been together since they were sixteen and recognized each other as..."

"... Boyfriend and girlfriend," Rhys interrupted nonsensically, bringing the bread basket bare inches in front of my face. "More sticks?"

"No, thank you," I declined, wondering what on Earth could 'recognized each other as boyfriend and girlfriend' mean. Did they have some sort of official ceremony where they announced to their society that they were going steady?

"Do you like the food?" Jackie asked, bringing a steak piece to her mouth.

"Oh, yes, it's really good and your plates are beautiful," I noted, seeing the yellow daffodil pattern on the china as I scooped some peas.

"Thank you, Riley." She got on with slicing the rest of the meat. "They are my favorite."

I froze just as I was about to do the same, one of my fears for tonight resurfacing in my mind, but slightly modified: what if I didn't break her favorite vase but her favorite china?

As if reading my mind, Rhys let go of his fork with a sigh and addressed his parent:

"Mom, would you please reassure Riley that you won't banish him forever from your house or inflict any corporal punishment on him if he happens to break anything of yours tonight?"

Tom gaped with his food halfway to his mouth and his wife snorted:

"Riley, I wouldn't do that even if you push over the largest china cabinet and shatter everything in it," Jackie said, raising her hand up the way people did in court when they swore on the bible. "You are cleaning that mess up though," she added, taking a sip of her wine - the one I'd brought.

I was relieved by her words, my body loosening. I still operated with the knife and fork gently so that I wouldn't scratch her dishes; it got to the point where Kennedy began to tease me about it, offering to cut my steak for me.

I expected the dinner to be like interrogation. 'What do you do?', 'What do your parents do?', 'What are your political and religious views?' were only some of the questions I was sure someone at some point would ask. But over half an hour later, no such inquiries arose. I suspected that Rhys had warned his family against his type of inquiries; surely he didn't want such heavy topics as my past to pop up around the dining table.

Instead, we talked about things like movies and music, my job at the Milk & Cream and Kennedy's favorite topic - surprisingly, it wasn't food - soccer. I didn't know much about the sport, but his enthusiasm about the game was contagious and I found myself intently listening to both his narrations about great players and his recollections of his own adventures on the field. He was in the middle of telling me about a particularly difficult situation in which he was about to shoot and maybe turn the result in favor of his team when those who had a view towards the hallway stopped eating. I turned my head to what they watched, my eyebrows furrowed and gulped when I saw it wasn't an it, but a he.

Alec.

*****

A/N: What do you think of Rhys' family?

Any ideas of why Alec decided to suddenly pop up?

Please check the summary to Keri's story and tell me what you think of it! Consider supporting it or this chapter with a vote if you enjoyed them and have a great time on wattpad!

PS: Those of you who follow me and read my messages already know this, but for the rest: YATA wasn't updated last weekend as planned due to a bug on wattpad which hopefully they've gotten rid of for good.