Once Aaron was out of earshot, her father, Robert, decided to tease Keeley. "You two seem awfully close these days. I was surprised when you invited me to go furniture shopping with him."

Keeley's embarrassment increased. He still didn't know Aaron was the friend she was staying with.

"I owed him a favor for helping me move," she explained. "He'd been wanting new furniture for a while but doesn't trust his own taste. His place is pretty minimalist."

"It seems like you're over there fairly often to know which pieces of furniture to get," Robert said shrewdly.

She waved it off. "It's easier to hang out at his place because he doesn't have roommates. He's let me use his TV room a few times—it's amazing! The TV covers half the wall, and the couch is the biggest I've ever seen. Three people could lie down on it side by side and still not touch."

He smiled and ruffled her hair. "Well, I'm glad you're getting along. I think he needs someone like you in his life."

Keeley was confused. "Someone like me?"

"Someone warm."

As Aaron returned, Keeley recalled a conversation from a couple of weeks earlier, where he'd said she brought warmth into his cold world. Looking at his relaxed demeanor, she could see it. Even icebergs needed warmth.

Keeley hadn't realized how much of an impact she had on him until that moment. It was overwhelming, and she almost cried, but held back.

'Stupid. That's a dumb thing to get emotional about,' she chided herself.

They returned to the main part of the store and spent about forty-five minutes testing couches, recliners, and loveseats. Keeley chose black or gray pieces to match his color scheme, reasoning that artwork could provide pops of color.

Testing couches proved unexpectedly exhausting. If she had to sit and stand up one more time, she might pass out.

"I think that's enough for you," Aaron said, noticing her lightheadedness as she stood. He reached out to steady her. "We can pick out art another day. Let's pay for what we've chosen and schedule delivery. I'm treating you both to dinner."

Robert hesitated. "Are you sure?" He wasn't used to others paying for his meals.

"Just accept it, Dad," Keeley said, rolling her eyes. "He doesn't know how to take no for an answer. I can't tell you how much food he's brought me over the past year."

"Is that why you gave him a mug that says '#1 Errand Boy' for Christmas?" Robert asked.

Aaron nodded seriously. "It's my most prized possession."

Keeley giggled. The tone didn't match the words, making his statement even funnier.

Robert shook his head and smiled. Those two were too cute. He thought they should just get together. He'd noticed how Keeley lit up around Aaron since he'd visited for Christmas Eve.

After checking out and scheduling delivery for the next day, they went to the Japanese steakhouse Keeley and her father enjoyed. Since Robert hadn't been to one in this life, he was amazed by the chef's skill.

Keeley smiled, relieved. He clearly needed a fun outing. Who knew furniture shopping could fulfill that need? She owed Aaron for suggesting it.

Watching him expertly use chopsticks (while the Halls used forks), she thought about how much he'd changed. The Aaron she'd married and the Aaron currently eating egg rolls were very different.

He'd become more considerate, funny, and dare she say, normal. He wasn't the almighty being he once was, but she preferred it. It made him more human. He'd become the kind of person Keeley enjoyed spending time with. It no longer felt like a chore or an indulgence; she was genuinely enjoying herself.

Laughing and eating good food with her father and Aaron—this was the kind of life she'd once wished for. Now, unsure how to feel, she focused on enjoying the moment without comparing it to the past.

Later, going to the restroom, she accidentally bumped shoulders with a tall, handsome man she didn't recognize, yet somehow felt familiar.

"Sorry! I wasn't watching where I was going."

"Don't worry about it," he said with a smile. "My fault too."

Keeley forgot the encounter, unaware that the man was still watching her, intrigued.

The food was delicious. As the meal ended, she noticed a glob of wasabi on everyone's plates. "Nobody wanted their wasabi?"

Aaron shook his head. "I'd rather live, thanks."

"I don't even know what wasabi is," her father admitted.

Keeley's eyes sparkled. She'd tasted it years ago and it hadn't affected her. She'd scare Aaron by eating a large amount and not reacting.

She stabbed the wasabi with her fork and ate it whole, just as Aaron cried, "Keeley, don't—!"

Her mouth burned slightly, but not severely. She smiled serenely and played dumb. "Don't what?"

He stared, dumbfounded. "…you just ate a whole ball of wasabi and didn't feel anything? This stuff must be defective."

Before she could warn him, he stubbornly ate his wasabi and nearly choked, tears streaming down his face. Panicked, she thumped him on the back.

"Are you okay?!"

"You're insane," he coughed. "How did you even do that?"

Robert chuckled, then tried a small piece of wasabi. He didn't react either, commenting only that it was an interesting flavor.

"Both of you are superhuman," Aaron wheezed. The Halls exchanged a glance and laughed at his expense.

This revised version improves grammar, punctuation, and flow, making the narrative clearer and more engaging. I've also removed the nonsensical advertisement at the end.