“If that’s the case, then rest up. Adele and I probably won’t be home tomorrow night, so don’t worry about dinner.”
With that, he turned and left the room.
The next morning, I received a new message from that person.
[Are you ready? I’ll be there tonight.]
Reading it, I let out a quiet breath. It was probably the best thing I’d heard in days.
By lunchtime, it was just me and Christian at home. After he finished his soup, I glanced at his bowl.
“You want more?” I asked.
He licked his lips, gave me a sideways look, and snapped, “No!”
I looked away and responded with a simple, indifferent, “Okay.”
As I started clearing the dishes, he suddenly walked over and tugged at the hem of my shirt.
“Your food’s really good,” he mumbled, “but I still don’t agree to you being my mom. But I guess I’m okay with you staying in our house.”
I let out a bitter laugh. “As what? A maid?”