Diarmuid said nothing, but he was brushing his fingers over her hair. There was only warmth in his heart when he held her, and he felt like he was actually standing on solid ground.
“I’m so thankful you were the one that night,” he suddenly said softly.
Abigail, however, stiffened. This was the first time they spoke about it after that revelation.
She actually felt awkward and embarrassed.
“Hey…”
“Weren’t you afraid?” he asked.
Abigail lowered her gaze–there was no way she wasn’t afraid at the time.
However, she could tell that Diarmuid was no villain from the fact that he held a blade, but did not harm her. Therefore, she decided to help him.
“Why didn’t you push me away?” he asked again.
Knowing that he was referring to their intimacy, the most indulgent moment in her life, Abigail actually found no regret at all.
In fact, she actually felt regret when she realized she had fallen for him.
She just didn’t know that he was the man she had been with. Somehow, what she once thought was a mistake turned out not to be one at all.
It was clearly a rebellious act–a gesture of dissatisfaction she made against Lionel’s threat.
However, she didn’t tell Diarmuid that. Instead, she smiled at him. “Because I get to make you a cuck.”
Diarmuid grinned in return. “Do you really hate me that much?”
“Yeah.” She nodded as hard as she could.
Diarmuid lifted her chin, and as she was forced to look up. Their eyes met mid–air.
He somehow felt like he knew her crystalline, watery gaze -as if he had met her before. Yet, he was unable to remember.
“What’s in your mind?” Abigail asked.
Diarmuid came to his senses, but said nothing. His fingers brushed against her cheeks, and then her ear, which left her blushing and heating up a little.
As he slowly leaned downwards, Abigail seemed to sense a tenderness she didn’t usually see against the warm glow overhead.
His eyes sparkling like the stars in the night, Diarmuid said, ” I want to kiss you.”
His searing lips met hers as he spoke.
Abigail did not dodge him. She answered him, accepting him.
As she raised her hand, she inadvertently knocked on the photo frame on the bedside drawer.
It landed with a loud clatter, interrupting them.
Diarmuid looked at it and asked, “What’s that?”
“A photo of me as a child,” Abigail replied.
Diarmuid’s interest was piqued. “May I have a look?”
“Sure.” Abigail picked it up and passed it to him.
When Diarmuid took it and saw the person on it, his brow visibly creased.
Diarmuid asked, “Is this a photo of you?”
Abigail nodded firmly. “Yeah… When I was around seven, if
I remember correctly.”
Diarmuid couldn’t help laughing at that.
Abigail scowled, feeling like she was being mocked. ” What’s so funny?”
Diarmuid passed her the photo. “Are you sure this is you?”
Abigail was left speechless the instant she saw it. Tommy was in the photo, not her.
“My mom must’ve changed it,” she explained.
It had to be Sheryl. No one else would do it!
Diarmuid’s gaze followed the photo as Abigail put it on the drawer again. “Come back to the mansion with me, Abigail.
“Okay,” she replied after a brief hesitation.
Footsteps could soon be heard, and they could hear
Sheryl calling out, “Abigail? Are you home?”
Abigail promptly got to her feet–she felt a little guilty, perhaps because Diarmuid was in the room with her.
Even though there was no reason to feel guilty…
“Mom,” Abigail called out.
Hearing her voice, Sheryl arrived at the door, asking, Have you found Tommy?”
Sheryl was surprised to see Diarmuid there. Immediately, a scowl crossed her face. “Why are you here?”
From her perspective, Diarmuid was as irresponsible as he was cold.
How much trouble had Abigail gone through to give her a son? And yet, what did he do in return?
“Waaaah…”
Suddenly, Tommy burst into tears.
“Oh! Tommy’s back?” Sheryl glanced at the bed when she heard his cry, and ran up to him without a care in the world.
She was naturally sentimental about the baby, since she had been caring for him ever since she was born. When he was abducted, she lost a lot of weight as she could neither sleep nor eat well.
Scooping up Tommy in her arms, she breathed, “Oh, sweet boy…”
One moment, she was looking joyfully at the infant, poking his cheek. However, her expression suddenly cooled and she snarled through her teeth, “He lost weight … Harvey Gooding, that animal!”
“Mom.” Abigail prodded Sheryl–there was someone else with them.
Sheryl, however, did not care. Let Diarmuid watch as much as he wanted! Impression didn’t matter when she was so worried that her grandchild might die!
For his part, Diarmuid felt that Sheryl was against him.
He wanted to defend himself, but was unsure of what to say–he was not used to explanations, because he never had to.
However, he felt like he had to explain himself to Sheryl, since she had been taking care of Tommy all this while.
Sheryl was also Abigail’s mother. He must respect her and be mindful of what she thought of him.
Abigail could tell what he was thinking, and so said, “Let’s head downstairs. You still have things to do, right?”
Then, she moved to link arms with him; a sign to Sheryl that they had made up.
Though Diarmuid still appeared hesitant, Abigail said, “I’ll talk to Mom later.”
Diarmuid finally conceded and followed her downstairs. As he walked with her to the door, Abigail said, “My mom’s going to need time to accept you. I mean, she knows we didn’t marry for love, and there was so much that happened. She must be upset with you, since I had to deliver Tommy in secret.”
As Diarmuid stayed silent, she continued, “She has no idea about us, since we don’t know each other. I had no idea Tommy was yours, so I went into hiding to give birth. She still thought that you were cruel to me. Could you not hold it against her if she’s a little…prejudiced?”
Diarmuid certainly would not–he actually felt gratitude towards Sheryl for caring for his child.
“Why aren’t you saying anything?” Abigail thought that Diarmuid couldn’t accept that, and promptly pulled away from him. She snapped, “My mom didn’t know! Why are you getting so petty? I explained everything!”
Diarmuid smiled, amused at the sight of Abigail’s pouting, indignant expression. “Are you angry?”
‘What do you think?!‘
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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