Chapter 89 Dinner on the terrace
Hannah
The terrace smelled faintly of jasmine from the pots Lisa had tucked along the railing, and the soft glow of the string lights gave the space a kind of quiet magic. I watched as she and a few other staff scurried about, laying out the food and setting the plates in perfect alignment. Lisa moved like she’d done this a thousand times, efficient yet gentle, and I found myself smiling despite the lingering weight of the day.
By the time she stepped back and admired her work, I felt a little flutter in my chest, a sudden lightness I hadn’t felt since morning. It was ridiculous, really. All day, I’d been sulking, my thoughts tangled with Timothy and the awkward tension that had stretched between us like an invisible cord. And now, here I was, perched on the edge of the terrace, anticipating his return as though I’d been waiting for a lifeline.
“I’ll leave you two to it,” Lisa said softly, giving me a look I didn’t quite catch. “Dinner looks perfect. Enjoy.”
She disappeared inside, and I shifted in my seat, smoothing my dress and trying to calm the butterflies that had taken up residence in my stomach.
A few moments later, I heard the soft sound of the stairs creaking. I turned and saw Timothy emerging from the house, a telescope cradled in one arm, his other hand brushing back his hair. He wore a crisp button-up, sleeves rolled just enough to show the sharp line of his forearms, and the faintest smirk tugged at his lips.
“Ready?” he asked, voice low, casual, though I could see the tension under it.
I nodded quickly, feeling a heat rise to my cheeks, and he followed me toward the telescope. He set it down carefully, adjusting the tripod, and I leaned close, curious despite the flutter of nerves.
“Wow,” I breathed, stepping back to take in the terrace. “This is… perfect.”
Timothy glanced at me, a hint of something soft passing over his features before he masked it with his usual calm. “Lisa made sure everything was ready before I even came up,” he said. “She’s efficient… I told you she’d handle it.”
I couldn’t help but coo a little, brushing my fingers over the neatly arranged plates. “And the food… everything smells amazing.”
“Thought you might like it,” he said casually, though there was a faint blush on his neck that betrayed him. He then gestured to the telescope. “Do you want to try it? It’s set up for the moon tonight. Pretty clear skies.”
My eyes lit up. “Yes! But… how does it work?”
Timothy set down the telescope, his hands deft as he guided me to the eyepiece. “Here. You look through here, focus using this knob, and the moon, or whatever you’re aiming at, comes into view.”
I peered in and gasped softly. The craters on the moon looked almost tangible, as if I could reach out and touch them. “Oh wow… it’s… incredible.”
He stood beside me, watching my reaction with something in his eyes that made my stomach flip. “Yeah. My father gave it to me when I was a kid. Said I needed to look beyond the immediate, to remember there’s always more than what’s right in front of me.”
I turned to him, surprised by the softness in his voice. “That’s… really nice.”
“Yeah,” he said, almost shrugging. “He had his moments.”
We lingered for a beat, the telescope between us, and I felt the usual nervous energy settle over us. It was like we were teetering on the edge of some unspoken thing, neither wanting to fall nor move away.
Finally, I gestured toward the plates. “Dinner?”
We sat, and the first few bites were quiet, punctuated only by the occasional clink of cutlery. I tried to make conversation, about the food, the terrace, the telescope, but my words stumbled out awkwardly, unsure, like a poorly tuned instrument.
“You okay?” Timothy asked, breaking the silence after what felt like an eternity.
I shrugged, chewing thoughtfully. “Yeah… just… tired, I guess. Busy day.”
He nodded once, then said softly, “Mine too.”
I pressed my lips together, wishing I could ask him more, but nothing came out. Finally, I forced a shrug, looking away. “What did you… do all day?”
He gave a vague answer, just enough to acknowledge the question without divulging much. I pressed on, careful not to push, but the awkward silence returned almost immediately.
Then his phone rang.
I flinched. Timothy didn’t even glance at it at first, continuing to eat as though it didn’t exist. But the persistent buzzing filled the terrace in sharp contrast to the quiet night. I groaned softly.
“Maybe you should take it?” I said, gesturing toward the phone.
He sighed heavily, looking at the screen. “It’s… Yvonne.”
I stiffened, my lips flattening. Of course it was her.
Timothy exhaled, finally lifting the phone. “Hello?”
Yvonne’s voice was sweet, sharp, and just a little bit venomous all at once. “Timothy! I’ve been calling. Why haven’t you come by? Your father asked about you, and I told him you must be busy…” Her tone dripped with fake concern.
“And where is Hannah?” she asked, sharp and snooty.
I opened my mouth, instinctively ready to answer, and then… I did. “I’m here.”
There was a pause. I felt the tension spike like electricity across the terrace. Timothy’s jaw tightened beside me.
“Oh…” Yvonne said, suddenly polite but condescending, like she was tiptoeing on a tightrope of etiquette. “Well, you both need to come see us tomorrow. It’s important.”
Timothy’s response was cold, clipped. “I’m afraid my schedule won’t allow. I cannot just rearrange my commitments to satisfy whimsical needs.”
Yvonne sniffed, indignant but relenting slightly. “Fine. This weekend, then. Don’t forget.” Her tone still left little doubt she thought she had the upper hand.
The call ended abruptly, and silence hung between us. Timothy exhaled sharply, rubbing at his temples.
I tried to hide a smile. The tension was still palpable, but… something about watching him handle that call,so cool, precise, a little annoyed but composed was undeniably satisfying.
“You okay?” I asked softly.
He shook his head, and then, suddenly, a laugh escaped him. A low, genuine laugh that made my chest lift.
I laughed too, the sound spilling over the terrace.
For a while, we just let the laughter wash away the awkward tension, the coldness of Yvonne’s voice, the weight of the day.
Soon, conversation picked up naturally. He asked about my work at the shelter, the pets, the minor crises I’d had to solve that day. I asked about his meetings, the files he’d been buried under. It was easy, simple… comforting.
By the time we finished our dinner, the last crumbs of dessert gone, I felt lighter than I had all day.
Then Timothy’s gaze drifted toward the telescope. “Want to take a spin?” he asked.
I grinned, nodding eagerly. “Absolutely.”
He stood and adjusted the tripod, and I followed him, heart fluttering, the night suddenly filled with the possibility of stars, conversation, and… something more.