Cecilia breezed up to him, her smile as bright as the summer sun. "Since you'd do anything for me, let's go," she said with a playful twinkle in her eye.
Owen, slightly befuddled by her rapid change of pace, followed nonetheless, asking as they walked, "Where are we headed?"
"Just follow me, that's all you need to know."
With a nod, Owen obediently followed Cecilia out of the shop.
Stepping outside, they saw Lucinda and her husband Stefan, hand in hand, returning from the market, Stefan laden with grocery bags filled with the makings of a classic Sunday roast.
Owen couldn't help but feel a pang of envy at the sight of the affectionate couple.
He had held Cecilia's hand, wrapped his arms around her, and yes, even stolen a secret kiss—a detail Cecilia was blissfully unaware of.
But ever since the divorce, as he pursued Cecilia with genuine intent, his touches had become rare, a testament of his respect for her boundaries.
"Hey Lucy," Cecilia called out, pausing as their friends approached. "Could you mind the shop for a bit?"
"Sure thing," Lucinda replied, not questioning Cecilia's plans with Owen—it was her usual weekend duty to run the shop.
Cecilia wheeled over her electric scooter, a modest vehicle compared to the luxury car Owen had offered her, which she'd steadfastly refused to accept. To truly love someone, Owen had learned, meant considering their feelings in every action, respecting their choices, never pressuring them into anything they disliked.
Mounting the scooter, Cecilia looked back at Owen. "Hop on."
"I can drive," Owen offered.
Cecilia shrugged, "You sure you can handle a scooter? Besides, with that arm injury, I don't want you hurting yourself or, heaven forbid, flipping us over. Get on, or I'll leave without you if you keep fussing."
Hearing this, Owen quickly settled behind her, turning to wave cheekily at Stefan. "See you, buddy! We're off to catch some wind."
Stefan chuckled, giving a casual wave goodbye. Once they were out of sight, he turned to Lucinda. "Look at Owen, showing off in front of me. He's got a long way to go before he can match me."
The midday sun blazed overhead.
"At this hour, Cecilia wouldn't normally fancy a ride," Stefan mused. "Only Owen could be thrilled about a midday spin."
"Honey, let's get inside before we roast out here," he said, leading Lucinda back into the shop.
"Lucy, could you call your brother Keith and check if he's joining us for lunch? Should I prepare a plate for him?"
Lucinda nodded and reached for her phone. Keith didn't pick up.
"He's probably driving," she guessed.
Stefan nodded. "You keep an eye on the shop. I'll head back to your place and start cooking."
Originally, Lucinda had planned to give up her rental, but the landlord, recognizing the cachet of having a member of the Anderson family as a tenant, insisted she stay rent-free to boost the property's profile. The idea was simple: if Lucinda Anderson chose to live there, the place must be top-notch, and others would clamor to rent nearby, even at a premium, just to be in the same building as Mrs. Anderson.
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