The Hockey Star’s Remorse by Riley Above Story novel Chapter 144

Chapter 144 

TIMOTHY POV 

The scent of freshly whipped icing and berry jams tickled Timothy’s nose as he sat amongst the various cakes and pastries scattered about. 

He found himself once again dragged into the world of wedding preparations, a realm he had never imagined himself entering so soon. The prospect of cake testing, of all things, seemed incongruous with the chaos that had come to define his life. Yet, there he was, seated in a bustling bakery, surrounded by towering confections in all shapes and sizes. 

Stella was the picture of enthusiasm, her eyes sparkling with excitement as she perused the extensive menu of cake options. She had insisted on bringing Timothy along, and he had reluctantly agreed, partly to appease her and partly because he had given his word. 

Beside him sat his mother, Lydia, a woman whose presence had become increasingly important in his life. She had insisted on meeting Stella in person before they tied the knot, and Timothy had reluctantly obliged, hoping to bridge the gap between the two most important women in his life. 

As Stella engaged in a fervent discussion with the baker about flavors and designs, Lydia sat quietly, her calm demeanor a stark contrast to Stella’s frenetic energy. Timothy watched as his mother observed Stella with a keen eye, her polite smile never wavering. 

Stella’s voice cut through his thoughts, pulling him back into the moment. “Timothy, what do you think of this one?” she asked, holding up a sketch of an ornate cake adorned with cascading fondant flowers. 

He blinked, momentarily caught off guard by the question. He glanced at the sketch, the intricacy of the design overwhelming his senses. “It looks… impressive,” he offered, his tone lacking enthusiasm. 

Stella’s disappointment was evident, and her eyes narrowed as she turned her attention back to the baker. “Let’s go with something simpler,” she said, her voice. tinged with irritation. 

Stella’s dismissive attitude toward Lydia had not gone unnoticed by Timothy. She had barely spoken or looked at the woman since they had arrived. He knew that. 

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Stella harbored doubts about his mother’s longevity in their lives, assuming that Lydia wouldn’t be around for long. 

His mind drifted to comparisons, a dangerous territory he had ventured into more times than he cared to admit. He couldn’t help but contrast Stella with Evie. Where Evie was grounded and unpretentious, Stella was consumed by a whirlwind of extravagance and ambition. 

The urge to escape the bakery, to flee from the suffocating atmosphere, gnawed at him. He longed for the simplicity and authenticity that had defined his connection. with Evie. But he had made a choice, and now he had to contend with the 

consequences. 

Lydia, sensing his discomfort, finally spoke up, her voice calm but firm. “Stella, you should consider Timothy’s opinions. After all, it’s his wedding too.” 

Stella’s eyes flashed with irritation, and for a moment, Timothy feared that an argument was imminent. “Lydia, I know what I’m doing. I’ve been dreaming of this day for years, and Timothy even told me that I could handle all the extra stuff.” 

Lydia looked to Timothy for confirmation, and he nodded sadly. “This is her league entirely. Besides, I don’t really have a cake preference. I don’t eat sweets much.” 

Stella folded her arms across her chest, grinning at Lydia. “See? Your son knows. what he wants.” 

The tension in the room was palpable as the two women leered at each other. As Timothy sat there, his mind in turmoil, he couldn’t help but wonder if he had. made a grave mistake in putting them in a room together. 

“Do you even plan on attending the wedding?” Stella asked suddenly, looking Lydia up and down. “I know you have your condition, so it seems a little risky for us to go to the trouble of preparing seating and all.” 

“Stella!” Timothy snapped, taken aback by her words. Stella merely acknowledged him with a disinterested glance before returning to the cake artists‘ sketches. The woman looked slightly uncomfortable, and Timothy gave her a look of sympathy. Somehow, Stella had turned such a sweet place into something disgustingly bitter. Stella’s dismissiveness his mother had struck a nerve, one that he couldn’t ignore. 

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“I merely stating the facts,” Stella muttered finally, still flipping through the colorful pages. As her gaze flickered back to Lydia, she added, “She doesn’t look 

too well.” 

Before he could refute, Timothy heard his mother’s rough cough beside him. As he looked to see what was wrong, he found her struggling for breath as the coughs. wracked her body. Her face had taken on a pale pallor, and her chest rose and fell rapidly. 

Timothy reached out and gently took her arm. “Mom, are you okay?” he asked. cautiously. 

Lydia offered a weak smile. “I’m fine, Timothy. Just a bit tired, that’s all.” 

But Timothy wasn’t convinced. He glanced at Stella, a sense of urgency in his eyes. “Stella, we need to step outside for a moment.” 

Stella’s irritation was evident, but she nodded reluctantly, sensing the gravity of the situation. They left the bakery, the fresh air providing some relief from the stifling. atmosphere inside. 

Once they were alone, Timothy turned his attention back to his mother, his concern deepening. “Mom, you don’t look well. Are you sure you’re okay?” 

Lydia hesitated for a moment, her gaze distant. “Timothy, it’s nothing to worry about. Just a minor episode.” 

Timothy’s worry only intensified. He couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to her condition than she was letting on. “Mom, you can’t brush this off. We need to get you checked by a doctor.” 

“I’m fine, Tim,” she said bluntly, her eyes narrowed. “We don’t need to run to the doctor every time I so much as twitch.” 

“That wasn’t a twitch, Mom,” Timothy pressed, giving her back a gentle rub. “You sure you’re okay?” 

She nodded and cleared her throat. “I’m sure. Let’s head back in, huh?” 

Reluctantly, Timothy led her back inside and sat her at the table. She waved him. away as he attempted to adjust her, mumbling that she can do it herself and didn’t need coddling. 

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