After tucking in her second son, Abigail scooped up Tommy.
The thought that she never breastfed both sons left her guilty. Sne owed them so much!
“Mama,” Tommy asked her just then, “is brother your baby too?”
“Yes,” Abigail replied, perplexed by the question. “What’s wrong?”
Tommy blinked his spirited eyes just then. “Grandma told me that we crawled out of your stomach.”
Abigail was speechless.
It was half past eight at night and Abigail had just finished bathing. Standing in front of the mirror, she watched her own reflection and the scars on her neck.
Hearing the door open, she straightened her collar and turned!
Diarmuid was standing by the door, having a clear view of what Abigail was doing.
As he strode in, Abigail asked, “Have you had dinner yet?”
Diarmuid said nothing, instead walking up to her and putting a hand on her scarred face.
Abigail watched him and joked, ‘If I married you like this, won’t people say that you married ugly?”
“No one would have the balls to say that,” Diarmuid replied, gently caressing her cheek.
‘They might, behind your back,” Abigail said, taking his hand off. “Take your shower. I’m checking on the children downstairs.”
Diarmuid caught her by the wrist. “We have people doing that. You, on the other hand, are getting weird.”
“Mom was suggesting that I get plastic surgery,” Abigail said. “She told me that this doesn’t look good.”
Diarmuid smiled. ‘It doesn’t.”
Abigail glared at him right then. “I thought you said you didn’t mind.”
Diarmuid kept smiling. “I don’t!”
“So why doesn’t this look good?”
Perhaps he did not like how she looked now and was just lying that he did not mind?
“Ah, so you’re not actually above the rest and prefer a pretty face. You must hate how I look right now, and you’re finally admitting to it…”
Diarmuid frowned.
Why was she getting annoyed? He was just kidding.
Diarmuid wrapped his arms around her.
“Are you upset?”
Abigail was scowling and struggled. “Let me go…”
“Nope. Let me show you if I care.”
Holding on to her, he kissed her and said, “Maybe I should get myself disfigured too? That would make us a match, right?”
Abigail was amused despite herself. “You’re so annoying.”
Diarmuid kept bugging her anyway. “I really don’t mind.”
‘Fine, I get it,” Abigail growled, but her irritation had already faded just then.
‘Good. Now, I’ll prove it to you,” he whispered, and reached underneath her pajamas.
Abigail gave in immediately. “Fine, I get it, stop-it tickles!”
‘Where does it tickle? I’ll scratch it for you.”
As they played around, they ended up in bed, her clothes loose from her tussle and her hair a mess.
Kissing her, Diarmuid then raised her hand and pressed it over his chest. “It’s all you in here.”
Abigail was speechless, her cheeks flushing from his sudden declaration of love.
As things kept escalating, Abigail put her hands against his muscular chest and asked, “Have you had dinner yet?”
Diarmuid freed his collar, saying, “Nope.”
“I’ll cook something for you. What do you want?”
“Anything goes.”
“Okay, then go take a shower,” she said, and slithered out from beneath him.
Their new mansion was especially vast.
There was no one in the living room since Sheryl and Mrs. Watson were playing with the children in their room.
Abigail headed to the kitchen and cooked paella, throwing in shrimps and other bits of seafood, while also boiling a small pot of oxtail soup.
Diarmuid arrived downstairs after his shower in his pajamas when she was just about done.
Walking into the kitchen, he wrapped his arms around her from behind, lovingly resting his chin on her shoulder. “Smells good.”
”My cooking?”
‘I meant you,’ he said quietly into her ear.
She pouted and elbowed him gently. “Be serious. Now step back, it’s time to eat.”
“I’ll help.”
Abigail allowed him to carry the paella to the table, while she brought the hot pot of soup with oven mitts.
As she took her seat, Diarmuid looked up and said, “You eat too.”
“I’ve eaten-can’t eat anymore now,” she told him, watching him as she placed her chin over her hands. “Is it good?”
Diarmuid smiled but he said, “It’s average.”
Abigail rolled her eyes at him, and that was when the landline rang.
Abigail answered it-it was James Cross, and he sounded anxious. “Where’s Mr. Althoff?”
‘ls something up?”
“Yeah.”
Abigail quickly took the phone to Diarmuid then, saying, “It’s James. It sounds important.”
Diarmuid answered it right then. “What is it?”
“Someone rescued lan Althoff and his girlfriend,” James said.
Diarmuid’s face fell. “What?’ ’l rushed over as soon as the director called me. It seems that someone drilled a hole into their room.”
Diarmuid closed his eyes. “Got it. Just find out who rescued them as soon as possible.”
“Yeah.”
As Diarmuid put away his phone, Abigail asked, “What happened?”
“Someone rescued lan and his girlfriend from Blue Hill Asylum,” Diarmuid said, putting away his spoon just then-he had lost appetite from the news.
“No matter what it is, you have to eat,” Abigail said, putting the spoon back into his hand. “Don’t waste my cooking.”
Diarmuid looked at her then and smiled. “Fine, I won’t.”
Moreover, Abigail was not worried about security here-it was basically airtight.
“Who could it be?” she asked.
“It must be my grandfather,” Diarmuid did not hesitate to answer. “But I don’t get it-why now? He could have done it much earlier.”
Abigail agreed, but she had no idea either.
“You don’t have to worry. James will get to the bottom of this,” Diarmuid said, not wanting her to get depressed. “Just go to bed.”
“I’ll wait until you’re finished.” Abigail smiled. “I’ll watch, or you’re going to waste it.”
“I’ll eat every grain.” Diarmuid scooped a spoonful and held it beside her lips. ’ Have a bite too.”
They tussled briefly, but Abigail eventually gave in.
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.
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