Tangled In Time

Candles And Confessions

I stepped into the dining room, the soft click of my heels against the polished wooden floor echoing faintly. The chandelier overhead cast a warm, golden light, its crystals scattering subtle reflections against the dark mahogany walls. Blake was already there, standing near the sideboard with a tumbler of whisky in hand.

When he saw me, he froze. His gaze locked onto mine before dipping briefly to take in the dress. His expression remained composed, but I caught the subtle movement of his throat as he swallowed, the faintest shift in his stance betraying his thoughts.

"Felicity," he said, his voice steady but quieter than usual. A small smile curved the corner of his mouth. "You look..." He paused, searching for the right word. "Beautiful."

"Thank you," I replied, my tone softer than I'd intended. The sleek lines of the dress had felt daring when Sophie insisted on it, but under Blake's steady gaze, it felt less bold and more intimate, as if the room itself had grown smaller. The faint warmth rising in my cheeks told me he noticed.

Blake placed his glass on the sideboard and crossed the room toward me, his steps slow and deliberate. He stopped just short of reaching me, his hands flexing slightly before falling still at his sides.

"I hope I didn't keep you waiting too long," I said, tilting my head to meet his eyes.

His smile deepened, his green eyes holding mine with an intensity that made my pulse stumble. "I would've waited longer."

The weight of his words lingered in the air, quiet but deliberate. I broke the moment by glancing at the table, noticing the two places set close together. The glow of polished silver and the crisp white linen caught the soft light of the chandelier, the arrangement simple yet deliberate.

"No Gwen?" I asked, gesturing toward the empty seats.

Blake smiled faintly, moving closer. "I may have asked her to keep Grandmother company tonight. Someone has to smooth things over, and Gwen is better suited for it." He stopped in front of me, his hand lifting to gently cup my face, his thumb brushing lightly over my cheek. "I wanted tonight to be just us. If time is against us, I want to make the most of what we have."

The honesty in his tone made my breath catch, and when he bent to kiss me, his lips were warm and gentle, as if testing the moment. When he pulled back, his eyes searched mine, as though waiting for a response I didn't know how to give.

Dinner passed in a steady rhythm, the soft clink of silverware filling the spaces between words. The table was understated but elegant, the candlelight casting flickering shadows that danced across Blake's features. The faint aroma of roasted vegetables and lamb mingled with the sharper, familiar tang of wine in the air.

"You seem remarkably calm for someone about to face their grandmother's wrath," I teased lightly, raising my glass to my lips.

Blake's smirk was subtle, his knife pausing mid-cut. "Do I? Perhaps I'm just practiced at keeping my nerves hidden."

"Or ignoring them entirely," I countered, raising an eyebrow.

He laughed softly, the sound low and self-aware. "Not untrue. Though I did buy myself some time by enlisting Gwen. She's far better at navigating Grandmother's moods than I am."

"You bribed her with something, didn't you?" I guessed, a knowing grin tugging at my lips.

Blake shrugged, his smirk widening. "A little. She has a weakness for Parisian scarves, and I may have hinted at a shopping trip."

I shook my head with a quiet laugh. As the moment lingered, the air between us shifted, the unspoken weight of the evening settling like a quiet presence.