The colleagues beside her looked over and noticed the blood that had dripped onto the floor and spread out, and they jumped up in alarm, "Oh my God, Miss Gardner, are you okay?"
Dakota was on the verge of crying in pain.
She was so engrossed in her thoughts that she didn't notice the blade, and as a result, she accidentally impaled her fingertip.
Dakota was always a delicate child, and her skin would turn red from the sun in the summer. She was never able to bear pain, and her colleagues had a hard time stopping the bleeding for half a day before the bleeding finally subsided.
It wasn't a minor cut.
It was about a centimeter long and quite deep.
A colleague looked at her worriedly, "Shouldn't you go to the hospital? With a cut this deep, it's easy to get infected and leave a scar. As sculptors, our hands are our most precious tools."
Dakota's eyes were red, and her nose was red too.
She glanced at the clock, it was almost six. Thinking about her mother, Greta, coming over for dinner after work and realizing that there was nothing of hers in the bridal suite, she knew Greta would worry.
Dakota hastily put on a bandage, thanked her colleague, promised she'd go to the hospital, and then, with her injured finger held up, grabbed her bag and rushed out of the National Museum.
But her destination wasn't the hospital. Instead, she went back to her small villa first, quickly packed some clothes and daily necessities, got some dishes she thought Greta would like from her favorite restaurant, and then drove to Whispering Pines.
……
Today, Curtis worked overtime.
He opened the door, expecting the usual cold and empty house, but was greeted instead by an unexpectedly mouthwatering aroma.
Curtis changed his shoes at the entrance.
He undid his suit jacket, loosened his tie, and entered the living room, where he saw a figure bustling about in the kitchen, much like the legendary girl who comes to help.
Dakota was wearing a small pink apron.
She was using her index finger to carefully remove dishes from the restaurant's insulated boxes and placing them delicately onto clean plates.
"Click—"
Hearing the sound of the door opening behind her,
Dakota jumped, hastily turning around to meet Curtis's languid gaze.
Curtis hadn't known exactly when he'd come home.
He was leaning lazily against the tile wall, looking at Dakota with a complicated expression, "Mrs. Pineda, are you having a personality change today?"
"What do you mean by 'change'?" Dakota pouted, feeling disappointed.
Seeing it was Curtis and not Greta, she turned back to fuss over her food.
"Is it not?"
Curtis raised an eyebrow, "I thought Mrs. Pineda had a sudden change of heart and decided to come back and make me dinner because she felt bad about leaving me alone."
"Yeah, keep dreaming."
Dakota snorted, but she seemed in good spirits, though she was careful to hide her injured finger from her rival.
"Who's making dinner for whom? My mom is coming over later, and I bought these dishes specially for her!"
Curtis raised an eyebrow in understanding.
He knew it.
This woman, who was obsessed with male strippers just a few days ago, couldn't have had such a sudden epiphany.
But Dakota seemed to have no time for him.
She didn't know when Greta would arrive and was afraid she wouldn't be ready, so she sped up.
But this young lady had never done any household chores.
Even just pouring soup into a bowl, she was uncertain and worried about spilling it, almost ready to use a ladle to serve it out spoon by spoon.
Curtis couldn't bear to watch anymore.
He clicked his tongue, "Stand to the side. Tell me what you want, and I'll do it."
Dakota immediately stepped aside obediently.
She wasn't good at this kind of thing, plus her hand hurt, so free labor was welcome.
Curtis turned his head to look at her, "What do you want done?"
Dakota lifted her face with a charming smile, her eyes curving like crescent moons, "Just take the dishes out of the takeout boxes, pretend it was made by a helper!"
Curtis: "..."
He lowered his eyelids and started pouring the soup, "If you had told me earlier, I would have arranged for a helper."
"I didn't have time..."
Dakota muttered softly, looking down at her hand. The position of the cut wasn't ideal for a bandage, and blood was beginning to seep through.
She had received Greta's call quite late.
And then, with this unexpected incident, she had forgotten to mention it to the leading man.
"Curtis."
Dakota leaned close to him, "Can you play along for a bit? Just help me with serving dishes and act affectionate so my mom doesn't realize we aren't getting along..."
Not getting along.
Curtis caught onto this key phrase, glancing at her with a sharp, cold gaze.
Dakota tugged on his sleeve with her uninjured hand, blinking her eyes, "Just for tonight, okay?"
Her eyes were clear and bright.
They twinkled like stars when she blinked, and when she gazed at him, they seemed to hold a spring tide, reeling him in without effort.
Curtis merely turned his head to look at her,
and almost drowned in them, but he quickly looked away rationally, "Considering how well you behaved at the Pineda' residence last time."
Dakota instantly became happy.
Her curved eyes were like blooming flowers, her features becoming even more radiant and enchanting.
Curtis couldn't help but glance at her again, his Adam's apple bobbing.
Damn.
Why is this heartless woman reeling him in again?
Curtis, annoyed, pressed his tongue against his back teeth and completely averted his gaze.
Dakota hummed happily as she went to serve the dishes.
After placing her mother's favorite apple pie on the dining table, she saw Curtis emerge carrying chicken soup, a ring now adorning his left ring finger.
Dakota felt confused.
She looked at Curtis's finger in surprise, "Do you usually carry this ring around with you?"
After all, she hadn't seen him go back to the room to fetch it.
Curtis didn't answer, only glancing at her, "Mrs. Pineda asked me to help act like a loving couple. You wouldn't have forgotten the most important prop, would you?"
Of course, Dakota had brought it.
In hindsight, it was foresight that when she packed her things earlier, she had specifically taken the diamond ring Curtis had bought her, though it was probably in the car.
"I'll go get it." Saying this, she turned and left.
Unlocking the car with her keys, Dakota leaned into the driver's seat to reach for the ring box, but her left index finger suddenly throbbed painfully.
"Ouch..."
Dakota couldn't help but suck in a breath.
She looked down at her hand. The blood seeping through was almost sticking to the bandage. Finding it unsightly and fearing it might become infected, she peeled it off and threw it into the car's trash bin.
It should be fine to endure it for a while.
She would stop by a clinic on her way home after dinner with her mom.
Dakota put on her wedding ring and returned to Whispering Pines.
The prepared and reheated dishes were laid out in the dining room as Dakota and Curtis sat side by side, both gazing up at the wall clock.
Seven o'clock.
Eight o'clock.
Nine o'clock...
The food had already been reheated several times by Curtis.
He leaned lazily back, turning his head to look at Dakota, "When is Mom coming over?"
"I don't know..." Dakota clutched her finger.
Her first reaction wasn't to refute Curtis's term of endearment, but rather she felt very hungry, and her left index finger, which had been cut by a carving knife, was getting increasingly painful.
Dakota's eyes fell dejectedly, "She said she would come over once she finished her work..."
