Lizetta had always been a bit of a homebody, but finding herself in this situation while out and about was a whole different story. She felt a twinge of embarrassment as Remington glanced down at her with a stern look.
"Behave," he said, quickening his pace.
Lizetta couldn't help but gaze up at the sharp, defined jawline of the man before her; curiosity started to get the better of her.
"Is this really appropriate for you to meet your childhood friend like this, holding me in your arms?"
Remington, catching the hint of jealousy in her voice, looked down with a slight smirk, and stopped in his tracks.
"You're right, maybe you should get down."
Before he could finish his sentence, she instinctively tightened her grip around his neck.
He let out a light chuckle, amused by her actions.
"You said one thing but wanted another."
Caught in her little act, Lizetta playfully punched his chest, with her cheeks flushed a pale pink.
By then, they had already stepped into the villa.
Lizetta felt her heart race, as she was a bit anxious about the encounter.
Looking around the living room, she expected some changes which may indicate someone lived there. However, everything was just as she had left it, as if untouched by time. Suddenly, footsteps approached from the kitchen, and a figure emerged.
Lizetta turned to see Stella, who carried a plate of assorted fruits. She paused upon seeing them, then offered a slightly awkward smile of surprise.
"Mr. Dashiell?"
Clearly, she hadn't been expecting them.
And why was she calling Remington "Mr. Dashiell"? Lizetta remembered Stella used to address him more intimately.
Lizetta glanced at Remington questioningly, but he simply nodded towards Stella and introduced Lizetta as his wife.
Stella's eyes lit up with recognition upon seeing Lizetta. "It's you? We met before, in the restroom of that diner, you burned your hand."
Lizetta nodded with a smile, "Yes, I never got the chance to properly thank you."
"No need, no need." Stella waved her off, but Lizetta noticed that she was wearing a glove on her right hand, which struck her as odd.
Just then, a child's voice chimed from the kitchen.
"Mom, I've washed the strawberries; they're super clean now."
Lizetta turned in surprise to see a little girl, about four or five, holding a small bowl of strawberries, stepping out of the kitchen. She shyly hid behind her mother, then curiously peeked at Lizetta and Remington. Stella gently told her, "Dorothy, say hi to the guests."
The little girl glanced at Remington and softly said, "morning, sir."
Then, looking more confidently at Lizetta, she blinked her big eyes and said, "Did you hurt your leg? Don't be sad, Dorothy will give you a strawberry."
Standing on her tiptoes, she offered Lizetta a large, ripe strawberry.
Lizetta was still processing the surprising turn of events. Stella was married with a child?
She gratefully accepted the strawberry from Dorothy. "Thank you, Dorothy, this looks delicious. You're so sweet."
Dorothy, sensing Remington's disapproval, retreated behind her mother.
Stella gently suggested, "Dorothy, why don't you go play with your toys over there?"
Once the child scampered off, Remington, still holding Lizetta, settled on the sofa and gestured for Stella to sit. "Take a seat. Let's catch up on what's been going on with us."
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