Marco leaned over her shoulder to look at the phone. "Well, that's an interesting move. Maybe he's trying to send a message."
Olivia nodded vigorously. "Or he's just as confused as you are and this is his way of showing it. Either way, this is huge for your online presence. The views on your videos are probably skyrocketing as we speak."
Charlotte groaned. "I don't need this kind of attention right now. I have the Healthy Gourmet Experience event and a Chef's Challenge to focus on, not some high - school - level drama with Alexander."
Just then, Alexander emerged from the house, a basket of tomatoes in hand.His eyes met Charlotte's, and for a moment, neither of them moved.
Marco stepped forward. "So, Hastings, care to explain why you just liked a picture of you and Charlotte that's been circulating like wildfire?"
Alexander set the basket down, his expression unreadable. "It was a mistake."
Charlotte scoffed. "A mistake? You don't accidentally like a photo, especially one that's been causing such a stir."
Alexander looked at her, his gaze intense. "Fine. I wanted to see what would happen. I wanted to... get a reaction."
Olivia raised an eyebrow. "Well, you definitely got one. The internet is going crazy. And you're not helping Charlotte's situation. She's trying to build a career, not get caught up in some romantic scandal."
Alexander shrugged and pulled out his phone. "Well, I'll just undo that like then."
He fiddled with his phone, his fingers moving quickly across the screen. Then he turned the phone screen towards Charlotte and raised an eyebrow. "Are you satisfied now?"
Charlotte stared at the screen, seeing the like had indeed been removed. She crossed her arms, a mix of relief and lingering annoyance in her heart.
Alexander smiled and walked away, Charlotte looked at his back and slapped her forehead hard.
Marco whistled. "Wow, surprise. I didn't expect the legendary tyrant CEO to have such a childish side."
Charlotte groaned. "This is ridiculous."
Marco gave her a warm smile. "I've traveled to twenty countries. Tasted love, wine, and heartbreak in every timezone. You know what I learned? People who love boldly are rare. Most just settle for 'safe.' You didn't. You wanted him. That doesn't make you desperate. That makes you brave."
Charlotte blinked. For a moment, words escaped her. "That… might be the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me."
He tapped her nose playfully. "Also, I approve of your taste in men. Even if he is emotionally constipated, he's got good bone structure. And that jawline? Whew."
Olivia snorted. "Okay, wait. Are you two dating now? Should I be planning a wedding? Can I be maid of honor for both of you?"
Charlotte burst into laughter. "Olivia, breathe."
Charlotte made the decision to simply ignore those tiresome online comments. She had already learned to adapt to her "internet celebrity" status and disregard so - called cyber - violence.
After all, there were far too many people who fell into depression each year due to being unable to tolerate malicious comments. And she, Charlotte, having experienced her family's bankruptcy and ballooning into a large - sized person due to overeating, had seen a qualitative leap in the resilience of her heart.
She was brave and indestructible!
At least at this moment, after having an argument with Alexander and achieving a minor victory in a historic sense, she felt extremely good about herself, and her state of mind couldn't be better.
Later That Night – Under the Stars
The farm had a quiet sort of magic after dark. Crickets hummed in the distance, stars spilled across the sky like sugar on black velvet, and the faint scent of herbs and roasted garlic still lingered from dinner.
Charlotte was out in the yard with Marco, both in athletic gear, stretching under the dim porch lights. She was mid-squat, sweat glistening on her forehead, cheeks flushed—not from embarrassment, but effort. Real, focused, determined effort.
Alexander watched from a few paces away, arms crossed, leaning against the fence. He told himself he was just getting some air. That the cool breeze was calming. That he wasn't staring.
But he was. And he hated it.
"They say triceps are the most stubborn," Marco was saying as he adjusted her form gently. "But I promise you, we're gonna make yours pop like soufflé in a hot oven."
Charlotte laughed, breathless. "That's the worst metaphor. But also, thank you."
"Metaphors are my cardio," Marco quipped. "Speaking of which—ten burpees, go."
"Ugh, I hate you."
"Love you too, cupcake."
Alexander's jaw tensed.
They moved in sync, like they'd been training together for years. Between sets, they chatted about spice layering and sous-vide techniques like other people talked about weather. They debated cinnamon's role in savory dishes with a kind of joyful intensity that made Alexander feel like he'd walked into a language he didn't speak.
It wasn't just banter. It was connection.
And he wasn't part of it.
He was the outsider. The silent investor. The guy who probably couldn't tell a turmeric root from a turnip.
Behind him, laughter erupted from the porch. Margaret was doubled over, tears in her eyes, clutching her stomach as Marco delivered a dramatically over-the-top Italian impersonation of Gordon Ramsay.
"And then he said—'It's raw! Even your nonna's ghost is weeping!'"
Margaret wheezed. "Stop it, stop it, I can't breathe!"
Charlotte's giggle rang out too, light and real.
Alexander stood there like a very well-tailored paperweight.
He was good with numbers. With legal teams. With cold calls and quarterly growth.
But making someone laugh like that? Making Charlotte's mom laugh like that?
No spreadsheet in the world could teach him how.
A little later, Charlotte handed him a water bottle. "You okay? You've been kinda quiet."
Alexander took it, grateful for something to do with his hands. "Just… long day."
"Of course." She gave him a soft smile. "You probably need to head back soon. It's getting late."
It felt like a polite way of saying: Time to go.
He nodded stiffly. "I'll get Mother."
They made their way to the porch, where Eleanor was lounging like she'd been born there, sipping chamomile tea from one of Charlotte's mugs that read "Bake It Till You Make It."
"Oh, darling," she said dramatically, waving a hand. "Do we really have to leave?"
Alexander blinked. "It's getting late. The car's waiting."
Eleanor turned to Charlotte with a sigh so theatrical it could've been on Broadway. "Sweetheart, tell me—are there any spare beds in the house?"
Charlotte hesitated. "Uh… I mean, we do have a couple of guest rooms upstairs."
Eleanor clasped her hands. "Perfect! Margaret and I haven't shared a roof since our college days. I miss our girlish secrets, late-night snacks, skincare tips…"
Margaret laughed. "We weren't that girly."
Eleanor pouted. "You braided my hair and forced me to watch cooking shows instead of going to frat parties."
Charlotte's eyes narrowed slightly. "Wait… are you saying you want to stay?"
"Well, yes. The stars are gorgeous, my joints ache just looking at the car, and my body's been feeling… delicate lately." She placed a hand over her heart. "Surely, you wouldn't kick out a fragile old woman?"
Charlotte stared at her.
This "fragile old woman" was wearing three-inch wedge sandals, a silk scarf, and had better posture than anyone on the farm.
"…Of course not," Charlotte said slowly. "Make yourself at home."
Eleanor beamed. "You're a gem. Alex, be a dear and bring in our bags."
Alexander said nothing, but his frown deepened.
Marco, ever helpful, called cheerfully from behind, "Let me help you with the bags, buddy. Host duties and all."
Buddy.
Host.
The words echoed like nails on a chalkboard.
As they all disappeared inside, Alexander stood there for a second longer, staring up at the stars.
They were beautiful.
And he had never felt more out of place in his entire life.
Perhaps he had been alone many times in the past, but he simply hadn't realized it. Today, however, this uncomfortable sensation suddenly surfaced, making him acutely aware of his solitude.