chapter 20
“Ta-da, I’m ready!” Cressida announced, striking a pose with her arms stretched out to the sides and a bright smile.
Alaric turned around, and his eyes widened in awe as he took in her transformed appearance. “This is… wow,” he stuttered, struggling to find the words to express his admiration.
Cressida had already dressed up, but Alaric had asked her to change into something else because the original dress had been a gift from Felix, and Alaric wanted her to wear the one he had given her instead.
“You like this?” She asked, still smiling.
Alaric slowly shook her head. “No…” he gave a simple response. A smile appeared on his face, and he raised his voice, confessing, “I love it!”
He swiftly steered to her front, gently taking her hand and turning her around to look at her backside as well. He gazed into her eyes, his face radiant with admiration. “You look stunning,” he complimented, his voice filled with sincerity. “We should get more dresses in this style. It suits you perfectly.”
“Thank you.” Cressida said.
Alaric’s eyes narrowed slightly as he leaned back, his gaze still fixed intently on Cressida’s face. “Why do you sound like you don’t believe me?” He asked, his voice tinged with a hint of curiosity.
Before Cressida could respond, he leaned in closer. “I’m telling you the truth, Cressida. You’re beautiful.”
She nodded twice. “I know,” she admitted. “I need no one to lecture me about how endowed I am. I’m beautiful, and I know it. So, let’s go out to eat. Dawson will be there already?”
“When does arriving at the table before him become a rule?” He asked.
“It’s not a rule…” she said.
“Then why are we in haste?” He questioned. “It’s been a long time. Shouldn’t you at least let me prepare myself for this? We shouldn’t be in a hurry. Please, let me take my time.”
“Alright,” Cressida said, nodding in agreement. “Take your time, but arriving late to dinner defeats the purpose. You’re sitting with everyone to socialize, so what’s the point of showing up after they’ve finished eating?”
“You always know just what to say to get through to me,” he uttered and sighed. “Okay. I need no more time to prepare for this. I think I’m ready. Let’s go out now.”
Cressida’s face lit up with a bright smile. She walked behind Alaric and gently grasped the handles of his wheelchair, slowly pushing him forward as she stepped alongside him.
Cressida kicked the door shut behind her, and as she’d intended, the sound caught the attention of Dawson, Amabel, and Felix, who turned to stare in their direction.
The table was already set, but Dawson had refused to begin the meal without Cressida, overruling Amabel’s suggestion to send a maid to inform Cressida about the delay, so they had been waiting for her.
Alaric’s face was impassive as they arrived at the dining table.
Cressida released the wheelchair and stepped forward, dipping her head in a respectful curtsy. “Good morning, sir.” She greeted, her eyes meeting Dawson’s.
“Good morning.” Dawson replied, confusion etching on his face as he took in Cressida and Alaric’s coordinating outfits.
Amabel furrowed her face. “Where are you going?” She inquired. “Won’t you eat before leaving the house?”
Cressida turned in Amabel’s direction, a smile on her lips. “I’m going nowhere, ma. And I came out, so we’d eat,” she answered. She brightened her smile and gave Alaric a side stare before facing Dawson again. “I’m sorry for the delay. I was getting Alaric ready—he wants to have breakfast with us today.”
“Hun!”
The room fell silent, with everyone’s eyes widening in surprise. The unexpected moment left even Dawson and Felix leaning forward in their seats, their faces frozen in astonishment. While Amabel sprang to her feet, a plate fell from the hand of the maid standing behind her.
Dawson was convinced he’d caught Cressida’s words correctly, but he needed clarification, so he asked again, “what did you just say?”
“Has the cat got your tongue?” Alaric asked with his face frowned, his gaze darting between Amabel and Dawson. “I never expected you’d be this surprised to see me at the dining table with you again,”
“After all, I decide to stop sharing the table with you because your faces are irritating, and now that I can tolerate it, I see no reason it should be a problem.” He spoke in a tone that gave no room for anyone to question him.
Amabel shot a glance at Felix’s face, noting the discomfort etched on his features. Alaric’s sudden decree had made him uneasy. She gritted her teeth, already plotting ways to goad Alaric into reversing his decision about sharing the table.
She lifted her hand and pointed a finger at Alaric. “You can’t be disturbing others’ peace with yours,” she began, her voice laced with condescension. “You just showed up out of the blue without even bothering to give anyone a heads up?” What, did you think you could just waltz in here and expect everyone to be okay with it?”
Alaric lifted his eyebrows twice and turned his head a little to stare at Amabel’s face. “Give anyone a heads up?” He uttered and giggled. “Why is that necessary? I left the table for you for years, and now I’m back, and whether or not you want, I’m staying.”
He averted his gaze from her, raising his chin. “If you or any other person isn’t satisfied with this, then eat in your room,” he gave an alternative with a nonchalant expression on his face. “I’ve tried it and I can say it’s not bad.”
“How-” Amabel wanted to continue the argument, but the chairman interrupted.
“Enough,” Dawson commanded, his voice cutting through the air. Amabel’s lips clamped shut, silenced by the command. He turned his gaze to Cressida, his expression unyielding. “He’s welcome here. If he’s willing to stay, find him a place.”
Alaric scoffed. “I’m standing right in front of you, yet you’re sending her to relay your message? Can’t you speak to me directly?” His eyes narrowed, accusation etched on his face. “Or is your conscience eating away at you?”
Dawson wrinkled his face. “What are you talking about?” He questioned. “I’m sending her to you because she’s the one who brought you here, so I’d think you’d at least listen to her.”
Alaric’s gaze dropped, and a low, mocking chuckle rumbled in his throat. “Sending her to me because she brought me here?” He repeated, his voice layered with disbelief. Another chuckle escaped his lips before he lifted his head, his eyes narrowing as he locked gazes with Dawson’s. “You know, that statement alone proves you’re a pathetic father. Aren’t you ashamed of yourself?”
“I-” Dawson opened his mouth, but Alaric cut him off with a raise of his finger, pointing it directly at his face.
“You’ve got no excuse, Dawson!” Alaric shouted, gritting his teeth. His voice was a venomous whisper, each word dripping with malice as he blasted, “you. Are. Nothing. But. A. Failure.” He paused after every word, his eyes boring into Dawson’s, his lips curled in a snarl.
He spelled each word with deliberate precision, ensuring Dawson could read his lips, so the message would scorch him like a branding iron. “You do not deserve to be called a father. Or maybe, as mine.”
Cressida had deliberately held back, allowing Alaric to unburden himself. But now, sensing he’d reached his limit, she gently placed a soothing hand on his shoulder. “You should calm down.”
Alaric took a gentle breath, composing himself as he met Cressida’s gaze. “I don’t think I can handle this,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “Can we go back inside, please?”
Before Cressida could reply, he swiftly turned his wheelchair around, preparing to head back inside. However, Cressida quickly caught up with him and grasped the handles of his chair.
“I brought you out here, so it’s my responsibility to take you back in,” she said, her face softening into a gentle smile. With a tender touch, she nudged his wheelchair forward.