Chapter 233
Chapter 233
Late at night, when most sensible folks were winding down, my phone lit up with a friend request. It was from a man. My gut churned uneasily – this was off.
Despite Jefferson saying Allen wouldn’t dare cross a line with me, a woman’s intuition whispered caution. And accepting a man’s request in the dead of night? That screamed recklessness.
Choosing to ignore it, I continued my chat with Fanny, my heart sinking as she spoke of a successful surgery completed by Allen and his well–matched partner. I could sense her disappointment. Love, as I knew it, thrived on equality and harmony. Fanny was exceptional, but next to Allen’s worldly demeanor, she felt overshadowed.
I swiftly changed the subject, wrapping up our conversation before my gaze returned to Allen’s pending request. Trouble seemed to trail him, but I needed answers about my father’s mysterious death a risk I had to take
As I was about to power down my phone, a message from Conrad popped up, eerily echoing Emest’s earlier warning: “Stay away from
Allen!
Their concern, while comforting, felt misplaced now
Id
I turned off my phone, the lingering effects of the moonshine lid downed at a local BBQ stand earlier making me too lazy to even consider a shower before bed,
me immediate
The next moming, after some yoga and a strong coffee, I accepted Allen’s request. He wouldn’t be awake yet, sparing me concems.
At work, Grant’s odd glances didn’t go unnoticed, but I was too swamped with backlogged tasks to dwell on it. By lunch, I was ready to stretch my legs, and Grant’s invitation to lunch didn’t surprise me. His eyes, however, lacked sincerity
In the cafeteria, my modest meal prompted a comment from Grant about my weight, a common concern masked as flattery. My appetite had been spoiled by memories of Ernest’s cooking a standard no cafeteria could meet.
–
Grant mistook my disceming taste for the influence of growing up in the Wagner family, unaware that it was Emest who had spoiled,
me
While pondering over Ernest’s promise of a delicious dinner, Grant’s offer to dine out felt overly keen. I declined, focusing on my meal as he inquired about Emests role in my life, his curiosity stemming from an earlier encounter
His bluntness contrasted with Jeff’s tact, but I found it amusing. Grant seemed convinced that a woman like me needed a “tougher” partner, a notion I found quaint yet misplaced
