Dangerous Love: You Are My One and Only Bride novel Chapter 1877

Cynthia felt as though her heart was going to leap out of her throat right there and then, but she channeled that panic into a frantic shove instead. “Okay, okay! You deal with the pie yourself while I… I… uh, I’ll check and see if the flowers need watering!”

A shadow of unnoticeable emotion briefly crossed Aristotle’s eyes. “All right,” he replied. “Say, Cindy… You’ve grown, haven’t you? Taller. Older.”

Cynthia, failing to ponder more deeply about his remark, replied without sparing him a look, “I mean, duh? How many years has it been? You got a growth spurt yourself, you know. And now I can’t even reach your face anymore... Anyway, e-enough chit-chat! Go enjoy yourself!”

She escaped to the yard and finally let out the breath she had been holding.

She supposed folk wisdom was right: the nature of a relationship changes when people are separated from one another for too long. Even a bond that started out as inseparable could devolve into people playing out self-restraining courtesies with one another, their previous intimacy long gone. Two people who might once enjoy uninhibited teasing and ribbings could also regress into clinging to a façade of decorum after a few years of separation.

Honestly, those were just two of the many examples highlighting the effects of distance between people in relationship dynamics.

Her mind drifted to his abrupt kiss—pretty sure that was it, a kiss—just now, and on cue, her heart lost its rhythm again. In the past, Cynthia would never reject a kiss from him; in fact, she would accept it, remain in his arms, and bask in the intimacy for a while longer. But now? Now, the reality of being separated for too many years had taken its toll. Habits and interactions she used to take for granted now felt different and unrecognizable, as their implications had mutated while she was not paying attention.

Cynthia could only bid her time as far as Aristotle finished dividing the pie before she had to return to the kitchen to watch him eat. Natch, it was on her mother’s order; Tiffany had commanded Cynthia to watch him finish and ask for his feedback. Had it not been these additional requirements to complete her quest, Cynthia would not have deigned herself to doing something this awkward and stupid.

Aristotle considered her unblinkingly staring at the pie on his plate and handed a slice to her. “Here. Want some, don’t you? Not that I fault you. It’s near noontime; I suspect you must be hungry by now,” he said. “It was my fault. I shouldn’t have made you wait for so long… You’ve been here since morning, haven’t you?”

Cynthia swung her hands wildly in rejection. “I-I’m not hungry! J-Just… Get on with it, okay? Mom’s the one who insists that I watch you eat… Oh, speaking of which! Don’t you have someone else in the house with you? Are you sure you’re not gonna ask her if she wants a slice?”

“Don’t bother. She doesn’t like apple pies,” he replied matter-of-factly. “Besides, a few more minutes from now, and the housekeeper should begin preparing lunch for her.”