The drinking session didn't last very late.
Dakota had only one Caribbean Sunset, staying within her limits and avoiding getting drunk.
Jasiah arranged for a designated driver.
Coincidentally, Lailah and Noe were going the same way, so they promptly ditched their friend and hopped into the ride.
Dakota had simply gone to the restroom.
When she came out, she found that everyone in the private room had disappeared.
Only Curtis was lazily lounging on the sofa, holding a cigarette. He flicked the lighter absentmindedly, igniting the cigarette.
He raised his hand to hold the cigarette, exhaling smoke, the clear joints appearing neat and sexy in the crimson light.
"Click—"
The sound of a door opening echoed.
Curtis looked up with little interest, clearly taken aback when he saw Dakota, "Haven't you left yet?"
He quickly removed the cigarette, tilted his head to blow the smoke rings to the side, fanned them away with his hand, and then pinched the cigarette out.
"Where are they?" Dakota looked around.
Curtis explained about the designated driver and the ride-sharing, tossing the unfinished cigarette into the ashtray.
"These traitors!"
Dakota angrily crossed her arms, "How did they know I wasn't going their way!"
Indeed, they didn't match.
They were close friends who knew where Dakota lived.
Curtis rose slowly, "I'll take you home."
"You aren't trying to lure me to our wedding house, are you?" Dakota looked at him suspiciously.
Curtis let out a low chuckle.
He bent down to pick up Dakota's shawl and purse from the sofa, "Some people prefer watching male strippers. Presumably, she isn't interested in married life or her new husband. Do you think I enjoy making a fool of myself?"
Dakota thought Curtis was acting strange.
He lowered his eyes, not looking at her, but Dakota stared at him curiously.
In the next second, a face that remained exquisite even when blurred appeared before Curtis.
Dakota tilted her face closer to him.
She lifted her head too quickly, almost bumping into Curtis's nose, but fortunately, she stopped in time, maintaining a safe distance where they couldn't kiss.
"Curtis."
But as her lips parted, her breath unintentionally brushed against Curtis's cheek.
He lowered his eyelashes to gaze at the woman before him.
This was the first time they had been this close, aside from her previous acts of playfully crossing boundaries.
Close enough to see the fine hairs on her face and his reflection in her pupils.
Dakota just realized that Curtis seemed a bit tipsy, his thick lashes gently lowering, and a hint of intoxication showing in his slightly narrowed eyes. She could also smell the alcohol on his breath.
But he was sober.
When Dakota suddenly leaned in, his heartbeat skipped a beat.
"Do you know?"
she blinked at him with interest, "You look like a lonely husband waiting at home."
Curtis bowed his neck.
This posture made his bangs half-cover his eyes, adding a touch of sexiness in the crisscrossing light and shadow of the private room.
"So, Mrs. Pineda, who leaves the lonely husband waiting at home, would you consider coming back to wedding house with me?"
"No." Dakota held her head high.
Curtis's deep gaze swept across her face before he chuckled and straightened up.
He put his hands in his pockets, seeming a bit cynical, "That's good, because I'm not interested in you either."
Dakota nodded in sudden realization.
"Alright." Her tone was light, "Let's go then, grab my coat and bag for me, thanks, Mr. Pineda."
Curtis: "..."
Dakota strutted forward in her heels, Curtis following with her shawl draped over his arm, letting out a light scoff.
Like him, my ass
She couldn't like him at all.
Dakota was still taken back to her small villa.
A few days later, surprisingly, Dakota initiated a visit to their wedding house.
Her current work at the museum was relatively easy.
Before officially starting the mural project, the team was doing preparatory work, collecting materials, and sketching sample elements.
But on Wednesday, just before leaving work,
Dakota suddenly received a call from her mother, Greta, "Kota, have you had lunch?"
Dakota, who was about to go home for dinner, was slightly stunned.
It took her a while to respond, "Lunch?"
"Yes." Greta checked the time, "I figured it should be noon in Italy. Our Kota wouldn't have forgotten lunch amidst the graduation rush, would she?"
Dakota understood upon hearing this.
She stood by the tall windows of the museum corridor, her eyelashes drooping slightly, and after a while, she said, "Mom."
"I've been back in the country for a while now."
"And, three months ago, I told you I finished my master's graduation exhibition."
"I even sent you photos of my work."
Greta was silent for a while.
Even over the phone, an awkward atmosphere that shouldn't belong between a mother and daughter lingered.
The atmosphere was silent.
After a long pause, Greta slowly said, "Sorry, Kota, Mom was too busy with work and forgot..."
Perhaps it wasn't forgetting.
It was that she never cared when Dakota returned, so she didn't know and thus couldn't forget.
Greta did care about her daughter,
but her way of caring was different from other mothers. It seemed as if as long as she provided enough money and ensured a high quality of life, she had fulfilled her duty as a mother.
Greta tried to show more concern, "So you're in J City now? Since you're back, try to find some time to get your marriage certificate with Curtis."
Dakota: "We've already gotten it."
Greta on the other end of the line was silent for a long time.
She held her forehead and sighed, "Sorry, Kota..."
"It's okay." Dakota was tired of her apologies, "Is there anything else, Mom?"
"Not really anything. I just wanted to show some concern for you, but I didn't expect..."
Greta sounded somewhat guilty, "How about this, after I finish up tonight, I'll come to your honeymoon suite, and we can have dinner together?"
Although Greta rarely showed closeness to Dakota and hardly gave her any maternal love, Dakota didn't dislike her mother and didn't reject her occasional concern.
Especially when she heard her mom say she wanted to have dinner together, Dakota's previous disappointment vanished, and after a brief moment of surprise, she responded happily, "Sure."
As if she feared agreeing a second too late would result in another last-minute work schedule change, canceling the plan.
Dakota hung up and returned to her office.
She picked up her carving knife and continued working on the final touches of the divine deer sculpture she was responsible for.
Thinking about having dinner with her mom that evening,
she felt cheerful, her mind wandering to what she should prepare for dinner, wondering if her mom's taste had changed over the years, when she suddenly felt a sharp pain in her fingertip.
"Ouch—"
Dakota sucked in a breath, the carving knife fell to the ground, and a drop of blood welled up from her fingertip.
