Chapter 35: My Mom Is The Prettiest!
The supermarket buzzed with its usual Saturday rhythm—carts squeaking, children tugging at their parents for candy, the faint murmur of announcements overhead. Bella pushed her cart down the cereal aisle, one hand on the handle, the other scanning through a list she’d scribbled that morning.
Beside her, Chloe walked with an easy sway, tossing a pack of granola bars into the cart. "So," she started casually, "it’s been what? Two weeks now? And Jake still hasn’t so much as looked at you the way he did for the first two days?"
Bella’s lips pressed together, her gaze fixed on a box of oats. "Yes, he hasn’t."
Chloe leaned against the cart handle, eyeing her friend carefully. "So... how do you feel about it?"
Bella hesitated, lifting the box and placing it in the cart. "I don’t know," she admitted softly. "It still makes me a little uncomfortable—like I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop. But..." she exhaled slowly, a faint curve touching her lips, "I think I like it better this way. No mind games, no pressure, no wondering what he’s going to throw at me next. It’s... peaceful."
Chloe grinned, bumping her shoulder lightly. "That’s really good. You deserve a break."
"Still not a break though. Raymond just won’t let me be on my own. Keeps coming to find me in the office and cafeteria. I’m just so tired of seeing him and no matter what I say, he just won’t let me be," Bella said with a sigh.
"I’m sure he’d get tired and stop once you have someone im your life," Chloe said thoughtfully.
Bella gave a small chuckle but didn’t answer. Her eyes drifted down the shelves as they continued walking.
That was one of Chloe’s subtle way of reminding her she needed someone if not Raymond or Jake.
They turned the corner into the next aisle, and Chloe stopped dead in her tracks. Her spine stiffened, her jaw tightening so sharply Bella noticed immediately.
"What’s wrong?" Bella whispered, frowning.
Chloe’s eyes had locked onto a tall figure just a few feet ahead. Damian Cross.
He was dressed simply—dark jeans, a fitted black sweater—but somehow still carried himself with the same sharp presence that dominated the design meetings at StoneTech. His cart was half full, a few greens, pasta, and bottled water.
Bella followed Chloe’s gaze, realization dawning. "That’s..."
"Don’t say it," Chloe hissed under her breath, turning her face away.
But Damian had already noticed them. His eyes lit briefly with recognition before he angled his cart toward them. "Chloe," he said, his voice even, polite, almost warm. "Didn’t expect to see you here."
Chloe froze, her lips pressed into a thin line. But she didn’t answer, not even with a nod.
Bella blinked, startled at the iciness radiating from her friend. "Uh..." she began, but Chloe had already tightened her grip on the cart and steered it past Damian without a single glance.
Damian’s brow furrowed faintly, but he didn’t follow. He simply stood there, hands resting lightly on the cart, watching her walk away.
"She’s in a terrible mood," Bella muttered as she hurried after Chloe, her own cart squeaking in protest as they made their way quickly toward the checkout counters. She could feel the tension rolling off Chloe like a storm cloud.
At the register, Chloe kept her head down, unloading groceries briskly, her movements sharp. Bella helped silently, though her mind spun with questions.
When they stepped out into the parking lot, arms weighed down with shopping bags, Bella who couldn’t hold it in any longer asked, "Okay, what was that about?"
Chloe didn’t look at her. "What was what?"
"Don’t play dumb, Chloe. Damian. He was just saying hello. And you acted like he was invisible."
Chloe stopped, turning sharply toward her, her eyes flashing. "I don’t need hiz rude ass heying me, Bella. Not him."
Bella blinked at the bitterness in her tone. "But he wasn’t being rude. He just—"
"He doesn’t have to be rude," Chloe cut in, her voice tight. "He does that enough at work. Always criticizing, always acting like I’m not good enough. Like everything I design is too emotional, too soft. I don’t need him pretending to be civil outside when all he does in the office is make things miserable for me."
Bella’s chest tightened. She could see the hurt under Chloe’s anger—the way her friend’s hands trembled slightly as she adjusted the bag handles, the way her voice cracked at the edges even as she tried to sound firm.
She softened her tone. "Chloe... I understand. I do. But the way you treated him out there... it was embarrassing. For you, for him even me. It really didn’t feel like you."
Chloe’s throat bobbed as she swallowed, her eyes glistening though she quickly turned away. "I’m sorry if I embarrassed you but you should know it’s not half as embarrassing as what he makes me face at work," she said quietly, her voice steel wrapped in pain. "If he wants to keep pushing me down in there, he should get used to me ignoring him out here. That’s my rule."
Bella sighed, shifting her bags onto one arm so she could free a hand to touch Chloe’s shoulder. "I get it," she said gently. "I just... I don’t want you hurting yourself more by carrying this anger everywhere."
Chloe shook her head, forcing a brittle smile as she unlocked the car. "Then maybe he should stop giving me reasons to be angry."
Away from there, the neighborhood playground was alive with shrieks of laughter, squeaky swings, and the hollow thud of rubber balls hitting pavement.
Rachel sat on a worn wooden bench, her gaze fixed on Timothy as he darted across the open space with a ball clutched in his small hands.
She smiled faintly, her arms folded. "Careful, champ," she called, though Timothy was already giggling too hard to listen.
He played the ball forward with all his might. Then it bounced once, twice and before he knew it, the ball rolled too far, veering off the play area. Rachel’s breath caught as it struck someone passing by.
She watched in alarm as the man bent down without complaint, scooping up the ball with an easy movement. Timothy froze where he stood, eyes wide. Then he bolted forward on his little legs.
"I’m sorry!" Timothy gasped, his voice earnest and a little shaky. "I didn’t mean to hit you!"
The man crouched down to his level, handing the ball back. His dark hair caught the sunlight, showing just how brownish it looked. His sharp features softened as he looked at the boy. "It’s alright," he said calmly.
"Look," he said again, pointing to his leg. "No harm done."
Rachel hurried over, her heart pounding. Her eyes landed on the man properly now. She could tell he looked wealthy but what she couldn’t tell was that he was Jake Stones.
"I’m so sorry," she said quickly, brushing Timothy’s hair back in a nervous gesture. "He didn’t mean it, I should have—"
Jake waved her apology away with a flick of his hand, his voice smooth. "It’s fine. Really. It’s not like he hit me on purpose or with full force."
While Jake was speaking, Timothy stared up at Jake with unabashed curiosity. His little brow furrowed as though studying a puzzle. Then, quite seriously, he declared, "You’re very handsome. And... you have the same eyes as me."
Rachel froze, her stomach flipping at the words. Why was Timothy saying that to a stranger?
Jake blinked, caught off guard. Then slowly, a smile tugged at his lips. His gray eyes which were striking, and familiar met Timothy’s, and for the briefest moment, something flickered there. Amusement, yes, but also curiosity.
"Do I now?" he said lightly, his gaze softening as he reached out to tap Timothy’s shoulder. "Well, you’ve got very handsome face and pretty eyes, too. And you look strong."
Timothy giggled, clutching the ball against his chest. "But my mommy is prettier!" he blurted.
Jake chuckled, glancing up at Rachel. "That’s true," he said smoothly, misinterpreting the boy’s words. "Your mother is very beautiful."
Rachel’s face flushed. "Timothy," she hissed, trying to mask her embarrassment with sternness. She shook her head quickly, her heart racing. "That’s enough. Stop bothering the man. He needs to go."
Timothy’s shoulders slumped, but he nodded obediently. He turned back to Jake, his little voice polite. "I’m sorry for wasting your time, sir."
Jake’s smile deepened, genuine now. He seemed amused or rather impressed by the boy’s thoughtfulness. He reached out, ruffling Timothy’s hair lightly. "Good boy," he murmured.
With that, he straightened, gave Rachel a polite nod, and walked away, his tall frame soon swallowed by the flow of the park.
Rachel let out a shaky breath, crouching down to face Timothy. "Why did you keep talking to him like that?" she asked, trying to sound stern though her lips twitched with restrained laughter. "Haven’t your mom told you not to speak to strangers so friendly?"
Timothy hugged his ball tighter, his gray eyes shining with innocence. "But... he was handsome. And... he has the same eyes as me."
Rachel laughed then, a short burst she couldn’t contain. She shook her head, pulling him close for a quick squeeze. "Oh, Timothy. You’re something else." She kissed his temple before pulling back to look him in the eye. "But listen to me—don’t ever talk to strangers that way again, alright? Handsome or not."
Timothy pouted, but nodded solemnly. "Okay, Mommy will scold me if I do."
"That’s right, mommy will scold but for today, I won’t tell her, okay?" Rachel said and Timothy jumped up excitedly.
"You’re the best best aunt!"