Chapter 63
The Hockey Star’s Remorse by Riley Above Story
The aroma of simmering sauce and fresh cheese wafted through the air, filling the space with a tantalizing scent. As Timothy moved about the kitchen with at practiced ease, I sat awkwardly on the edge of the couch.
Timothy glanced my way, a playful glint in his eyes. âOh, your friend is coming to greet you.â
I smiled, slightly curious about who he was referring to. Right then, I saw Duke leave one of the back rooms and eye me curiously from afar. After the recognition set in, he barked and came bounding toward me, his tail wagging.
âHi, boy! How are you?â I greeted, scratching behind his ear. He suddenly flopped onto his back, revealing his belly for a good rub. As my fingers ruffled his fur, I started to feel more relaxed.
Timothyâs voice broke through my thoughts, his question drawing my attention. âSo, Evie, howâs business been since my case closed?â
I turned toward the kitchen, my lips curling into a smile. âActually, business has been picking up. It seems like It seems like my success with your case has made me more noticeable.â
Timothy emerged from the kitchen, a hint of curiosity in his eyes. âNoticeable? In what way?â
âWell,â I started, my eyes daring around, âLetâs just say Iâve been getting a bit more attention than Iâm used to. Your fans seem to have taken an interest in the lawyer who helped clear your name.â
Timothyâs lips twitched into a knowing smile. âAh, so youâre becoming a bit celebrity yourself.â
I shrugged, a mixture of amusement and hesitation coursing through me. âI guess you could say that, though Iâm not sure Iâm entirely comfortable with it.â
Duke bounded back over, dropping a tennis ball at my feet with an expectant look. I obliged, sending the ball skidding across the floor as Duke chased after it with gusto.
Timothyâs gaze lingered on us, his expression thoughtful. âDo you enjoy the attention?â
Mar I leaned down to ruffle Dukeâs fur, my mind turning over his question. âNot really,â I admitted. âItâs nice to be recognized for my work, but it also attracts someâ¦. interesting characters.â
Timothy raised an eyebrow. âInteresting characters?â
I sighed, my thoughts lingering back on Linda. âObsessed fans, to be more precise. Iâve had a few encounters with paparazzi, and with the whole Linda situation, itâs honestly a little unsettling.â
A knowing glint appeared in Timothyâs eyes, as if he understood the weight of my words. âSounds like youâve had your fair share of Linda types.â
I nodded, my gaze briefly flickering toward the dog that had returned to my side.
Not exactly, but I had some paparazzi camping out on my doorstep.â.
Timothy offers a sympathetic smile. âAh, yes, the paparazzi. Fame has its downsides.â
I giggled. âI suppose so. But enough about me and my newfound fame. Howâs the lasagna coming along?â
Timothyâs attention shifted back to the kitchen, his movements fluid as he checked on the dish. âStill perfecting the sauce. Needs to be a bit chunkier.â
As he returned to his culinary task, I found myself appreciating the easy flow of our conversation. It was as if the initial awkwardness between us had dissipated, replaced by a genuine sense of comfort.
âSo, Duke seems to be quite the companion,â I remarked, flapping Dukeâs ears.
Timothyâs grin was infectious as he nodded. âYeah, heâs a handful, but I wouldnât have it any other way.â
I started to laugh again, but the tranquility was shortâlived. A sudden clatter echoed from the kitchen, my head snapping toward the source of the noise. Without a second thought, I hurried into the kitchen, my heart quickening at the sight that greeted me.
Timothy stood at the counter, his brows furrowed. Blood welled up from a fresh cut on his finger, staining the edge of a tomato he had been slicing. Instinctively, I Fr, 22 Mar rushed forward, my voice edged with concern.
âTimothy, are you okay?â
He glanced up, á small grimace on his lips as he watched the blood ooze. âYeah, I just⦠managed to cut myself. You would think Iâd know how to use a knife by now.â
Gently, I guided him toward the sink to rinse his finger. The proximity between us was impossible to ignore, but I forced my thoughts on the task at hand.
As Timothyâs hand came to rest on the counter, I turned my attention to the tomatoes. âI can take over cutting the tomatoes if you need to clean that cut properly.â
Timothy smiled. âAh, but I canât make my guest cook.â
âItâs just dicing tomatoes,â I said, waving him off. âGo on.â
As Timothy left to tend to his cut, I gingerly picked up the knife, my fingers trembling ever so slightly.
I had always considered myself more of a takeout enthusiast than a home cook, and the realization that I was in uncharted territory sent my heart racing.
With each careful slice, I felt a mixture of excitement and trepidation. The rhythmic motion of the knife against the cutting board was oddly soothing. However, as I glanced at the uneven slices of tomato, my confidence began to waver.
Timothy returned, his expression one of amusement. âYouâre doing great, Evie. Just take it slow.â
I smiled sheepishly. âYeahâ¦I think?â
To my surprise, Timothy moved closer, his presence enveloping me like a warm embrace. âLet me show you a trick,â he said softly.
His hands settled atop mine, his touch gentle yet firm. My heart skipped a beat as he guided my movements, his fingers interlacing with mine. Together, we moved in sync, the blade of the knife gliding through the tomato with ease.
His closeness was intoxicating. I could feel the steady rhythm of his breath, our gazes locked as if time itself had slowed. In that moment, it wasnât just about cutting tomatoes.
Chapter 63.
22 Mar 51%è« As the last tomato was diced, Timothy withdrew his hands, a soft smile gracing his lips. âSee? Not so bad, right?â
I couldnât help but laugh, the tension that had once filled the room now replaced with a sense of camaraderie. âYou make it look easy.â
With the meal finally prepared, we sat down at the table, the air alive with a newfound ease. The lasagna was every bit as delicious as I had imagined it would be.
âSo, how did you learn to make lasagna like this?â I asked, my curiosity getting the best of me as I took another bite of the savory dish.
Timothy chuckled, a hint of pride in his eyes. âWell, my grandmother was Italian, and she passed down some of her best recipes. This lasagna was a childhood favorite.
I nodded appreciatively, savoring the rich flavors. âItâs absolutely delicious. Your grandmother must have been an amazing cook.â
âYeah,â he said with a grin. âTrust me when I say I was a chubby kid as a result.â As we ate, our conversation flowed effortlessly, dipping into various topics like a gentle stream. From favorite books to memorable travel destinations, it felt as if we were discovering new facets of each otherâs lives with every exchanged word. The initial awkwardness that had characterized our interactions seemed like a distant memory.
As we finished our meal, Timothy leaned back in his chair, his expression one of contentment. âThat was a delightful dinner,â he said with a satisfied sigh. âThank you for joining me, Evie.â
I smiled warmly, the sensation of genuine happiness bubbling up within me. âThe pleasure was all mine. I must admit, I was a little apprehensive at first, but Iâm glad I came.â
Timothyâs gaze met mine, a softness in his eyes that sent a flutter through my chest. âIâm glad you came too.â
As the evening sun cast a warm glow over the room, I realized that time had slipped away faster than I had anticipated. Reluctantly, I pushed my chair back, my fingers tracing patterns on the tablecloth.
Mar âI should probably get going,â I said with a hint of regret. âItâs getting late.â Timothy nodded, his expression understanding. âOf course.â
âLet me help you with the dishes,â I said, gesturing to the mess in the kitchen. Timothy shook his head firmly. âDonât even worry about that.â
âIâm helping,â I stated, already gathering the plates before he could protest further. With a sigh, he relented and followed me to the kitchen. Together, we cleaned up, a comfortable silence settling between us as we worked in tandem.
Once the last dish was placed in the drying rack, Timothy turned to me, his expression one of gratitude. âThank you for your help.â
I waved off his thanks. âIt was the least I could do. We made quite the mess.â
As we walked back to the living room, an awkward tension filled the air. I shifted. on my feet, suddenly unsure of how to proceed. Timothy seemed to sense my hesitation and spoke up.
âI can walk you to the door.â
I nodded, relieved that he had taken the lead. As we reached the door, my heart. began to race, a flurry of emotions swirling within me. I turned to face Timothy, my words caught in my throat.
âTimothy, I want you to know that I believe you,â I said earnestly, my voice soft yet resolute. âI know Lindaâs claims are false, and Iâm here to support you.â
His eyes bore into mine with a certain intensity. âIt means a lot to hear that from you.â
We stood there for a moment, the weight of unspoken words hanging between us. The connection we had forged over the course of the evening felt palpable, and I found myself wanting to hold onto it just a little longer.
âGoodnight, Timothy,â I said, my voice infused with sincerity.
âGoodnight, Evie,â he replied, his voice gentle.
As I turned to leave, a surge of emotion overtook me. Without thinking, I turned back to him and reached out, pulling him into a hug. His arms encircled me, and for a brief moment, I fell into a daze.
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âTake care of yourself,â I whispered against his chest, my heart racing.
âYou too,â he murmured, his breath warm against my hair.
Reluctantly, I pulled away, a bittersweet ache settling in my chest. With a final smile, I stepped out into the hallway, my steps echoing in the quiet.
As I walked away from Timothyâs apartment, a sense of elation filled me. The evening had exceeded my expectations in ways I couldnât have imagined.
With each step I took, I couldnât help but think about the future. What lay ahead was uncertain, but one thing was clear: Timothy and I were in this together. With that in mind, I couldnât help but feel a glimmer of hope lighting up the path before me.
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