Lizetta had always been a bit of a homebody, but finding herself in this situation while out and about was a whole different story. She felt a twinge of embarrassment as Remington glanced down at her with a stern look.

"Behave," he said, quickening his pace.

Lizetta couldn't help but gaze up at the sharp, defined jawline of the man before her; curiosity started to get the better of her.

"Is this really appropriate for you to meet your childhood friend like this, holding me in your arms?"

Remington, catching the hint of jealousy in her voice, looked down with a slight smirk, and stopped in his tracks.

"You're right, maybe you should get down."

Before he could finish his sentence, she instinctively tightened her grip around his neck.

He let out a light chuckle, amused by her actions.

"You said one thing but wanted another."

punched his chest, with

they had already

as she was

was just as she had left it, as if untouched by time. Suddenly, footsteps approached from the

carried a plate of assorted fruits. She paused

"Mr. Dashiell?"

she hadn't been

Remington "Mr. Dashiell"? Lizetta remembered

he simply nodded

seeing Lizetta. "It's you? We

nodded with a smile, "Yes, I never

no need." Stella waved her off, but Lizetta noticed that she was wearing a glove on

voice chimed from

I've washed the strawberries; they're

see a little girl, about four or five, holding a small bowl of strawberries, stepping out of the kitchen. She shyly hid behind her mother, then curiously

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