<b>I </b>was afraid <b>that </b>anything I said might upset Josh, and, truthfully, my mind wandered back to my parents. I couldn’t help but think of their ident. <b>Was </b>it really just an ident… or something more?
I was too young to understand when my parents passed. Peter was the one
who took
care of everything.
He probably knew the truth about what really happened that day. When I saw himter, I might just ask him.
Josh, noticing my silence, didn’t press the issue. We drove in quiet tension, heading to the Dolton family estate. My car had an automatic entry system, so we drove right into the yard without any hassle.
Aryana, the housekeeper, spotted me and rushed over with a bright smile. “Zoe, you’re back! Let me tell Mr. and Mrs. Dolton you’ve arrived.”
“No need to bother them, Aryana. I’ll go in myself,” I replied with a smile.
Aryana nced at Josh, who was walking beside me. I knew she was curious about who he was, so I looped my arm through Josh’s, giving her the answer she was looking for. “This is Josh, my boyfriend.”
Aryana was just a housekeeper, but she’d worked with the Doltons for longer than I had. She was close with Michelle, too. So, even though she might not have been a guest at the table, she was still part of the family’s world.
Josh nodded politely at Aryana. “Hi, Aryana.”
“Hello,” Aryana responded with a strained smile, her eyes clearly watching me. It was obvious that she didn’t approve of the situation.
To the people here, I was supposed to be Alvin’s wife and now I was walking around with another man.
3
No doubt, Aryana wasn’t the only one ufortable with this–Peter and Michelle would be, too.
We walked past her and headed toward the living room.
Just as we reached the door, I heard Michelle’s voice, sharp and slightly irritated. “You think you’re such a great CEO, Peter, you can manage thousands of people, but your own sons don’t listen to a word you say?”
There was no response from Peter, and I could tell he was probably engrossed in his phone or a magazine, pretending not to hear.
“Peter, are you pretending to be deaf again?” Michelle raised her voice in frustration.
Even though they were a loving couple, it didn’t mean there weren’t tensions. Today, <b>it </b>seemed like Michelle was really upset about something. But what could have gotten her so angry?
“I’m not pretending. If I say something, <i>you’ll </i>just keep going on,” Peter finally responded, his tone low.
“Oh, so now you’reining about me talking too much?” Michelle huffed. “You men have no heart. After I gave you kids and grew start finding me annoying. Peter, you jerk… Ah, don’t touch me, get off!”
old for you, you
When we stepped into the living room, I froze. Michelle was sitting on Peter’sp, both of them in a yful but tender tug–of–war. Peter was holding her tightly while she pushed him away, yet the affection was clear.
It was rate for a couple at their age to have this kind of yful intimacy was rare.
For a second, Josh and I stood there, unsure whether to enter or retreat.
Most middle–aged couples were too caught up in the routine of life to share moments like these. It was
a
refreshing, almost nostalgic scene <b>for </b>me.
<b>Honestly</b><b>, </b>I felt a bit awkward<b>–</b><b>we </b>were pretending <b>to </b>be a couple, and here were <b>two </b>real <b>ones </b><b>caught </b>in an <b>intimate </b><b>moment</b>, it was like walking in <b>something </b>private<b>. </b>
But <b>before </b><b>I </b>could move<b>, </b>Michelle’s little teddy dog started barking excitedly, clearly happy to see me. It was its way of weing me back.
<b>I </b><b>had </b>spoiled <b>that </b>little dog a lot when I lived here. And now, it seemed like all that affection had paid off.
I never expected to walk in on Josh fresh out of the shower.
<b>And </b>I mean fresh–he was wearing nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist. It covered just the essentials, leaving the rest of his toned, sun–kissed skin exposed.
Josh froze too, clearly not expecting me to barge in. I could see the color rising to his chest, his golden brown skin turning pink with embarrassment.
We stood there in silence, locked in ce, just staring at each other. Time itself seemed to pause.
It wasn’t until Josh snapped out of his daze and retreated into the bedroom that I finally moved. I swallowed thickly, the lump in my throat making <b>it </b>
hard to breathe.
And then it hit me–I was blushing.
As Josh closed the bedroom door, I knew he was probably getting dressed. The thought of the clothes I had just bought him popped into my head, and I quickly blurted, “Josh, don’t get dressed yet, wait for me.”
The words left my mouth before I had a chance to think them through, and as I turned to walk away, I suddenly realized what I’d just said. Don’t get dressed? Wait for me?
In this context, those words were… borderline inappropriate.
I swear, if there was a hole in the floor, I would’ve jumped right in.
But no such luck. The moment passed, and I hurriedly grabbed the clothes from my room and rushed back to Josh’s door. I knocked lightly and said, “Josh, I got you some clothes. They’re outside the door, you should wear these.”
I didn’t even try to exin myself–honestly, it would’ve only made it worse.
As I started to ce the bag down, the door suddenly swung open. Josh was standing there, fully dressed.
A crisp white shirt, ck suit pants, no tie, two buttons undone at the cor–dressed formally, yet effortlessly stylish.
It was the first time I’d ever seen him in something like this, and to be honest, I’d thought his skin tone wouldn’t quite match this kind of outfit. I’d imagined something more casual when I bought his clothes.
But now, standing before me, Josh looked like he was straight out of a luxury ad. The kind of understated, low–key sophistication that was both luxurious and intimidating.
I couldn’t stop staring. I was so caught up in the sight of him that I didn’t even notice he’d reached out and taken the bag from my hands. He nced at
the clothes inside and asked, “You want me to wear this?”
I shook my head, my voice a little too soft. “No, not really… You look great like this.”
Josh eyed the clothes again, then said with a smile, “Well, next time I’ll wear the ones you bought me.”
Without waiting for my reply, he casually took the clothes into the bedroom and ced them in the closet. I stood frozen by the door<b>, </b><b>my </b><b>eyes </b>involuntarily drawn to the bed.
It was a small room, the bed taking up most of the space. The duvet was arranged perfectly, almost militarily so–neatly tucked <b>with </b><b>no </b><b>sign </b><b>of </b><b>a </b><b>wrinkle </b>
Something about it felt almost… reverent.
Josh came back into the living room, looking at me expectantly, “Ready to go?”
I stood there for a moment, still caught up in my thoughts. And then, without thinking, I blurted, “Josh, do you have OCD<b>?</b><b>” </b>
He gave me a confused look. “Huh?”
I pointed to the bed. “You’re not in the army anymore. Why do you still fold the nkets like this? Don’t you think it’s a waste of time<b>?</b><b>” </b>
“It’s just a habit,” he replied simply.
I raised an eyebrow. “I think it’s more like OCD. Habits can be hard to break, but they’re usually simple things. This… this is a little excessive<b><i>.” </i></b>
Josh shrugged. “Maybe.”
As if on cue, his eyes fell on the gift bag I was holding, and he reached
I smiled faintly. “No need, I’ve got it.”
2des out for it. “Let me take that.”