The waiter actually returned with antiseptic wipes and gauze. After Preston Winslow finished bandaging Niamh’s injured finger, he hurried back to his seat.
He had no idea why he’d gotten so anxious about Niamh a moment ago, as if under some strange spell.
Especially with Jonathan sitting right there.
Jonathan might not care much for Niamh, but she was still his wife–at least on paper.
Preston’s nerves were frayed, and to cover it up, he busied himself with his lobster, tearing off the shell in silence.
Marina noticed Preston making no further gestures toward Niamh and felt a wave of relief.
She didn’t have to like Preston, but Preston absolutely had to like her. Even if he someday, fell for someone else, it certainly couldn’t be Niamh.
In Marina’s mind, Niamh didn’t deserve anything except to serve as a foil–someone who made Marina look all the more impressive.
Dinner dragged on. Niamh barely touched her food, her thoughts elsewhere.
In the end, she still didn’t get the last coveted spot for Luminous Divas Fashion Week.
All her efforts had been for nothing.
To say she wasn’t disappointed would be a lie.
But compared to circling around with Jonathan, only to watch the precious gem he’d promised her end up in Marina’s hands, this setback felt almost
When dinner was over, Niamh paid the bill.
She only covered her own meal and Preston’s.
Jonathan took care of the rest.
“We’re square now,” Niamh said, turning on her heel and heading out.
Preston wanted to go after her.
- al.
He wasn’t even sure why. Maybe he just wanted to apologize–he hadn’t meant for
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Niamh to spend her money on him. Or maybe he wanted to promise he’d treat her
next time.
But Preston didn’t get the chance. Marina called out to him.
“Preston, what exactly did Niamh owe you?”
He hesitated. “Oh, it’s nothing…”
Jonathan, picking up on his hesitation, glanced over.
“A while ago, I ran into her on the street. She had a flat tire, so I helped out. No big deal,” Preston blurted, speaking so quickly he wasn’t sure he sounded convincing.
Marina couldn’t tell if he was lying or not. She just replied coolly, “I see…”
She instinctively looked to Jonathan.
His expression didn’t change; his dark eyes were as inscrutable as ever, as if he believed every word–or didn’t care at all.
Marina decided she was probably overthinking it.
Neither Jonathan nor Preston seemed to give Niamh a second thought.
Niamh didn’t drive home that night. Instead, she went back to her studio.
Her mood was heavy. She’d missed her only shot at Luminous Divas Fashion Week. Still, she was calmer now than she’d been on her birthday.
She returned to the studio intent on finishing her half–done sketches. There was no longer any real need to finish them, but she owed it to herself and her work.
The lights were still on in the office.
Her completed design lay quietly by her hand.
At some point, she’d fallen asleep.
She’d run herself ragged these past few days, desperate to prove herself. She’d only meant to rest her eyes
Or a moment, but ended up sleeping straight through till
morning.
When she opened her eyes, Peter’s face came into focus.
“Morning!” he greeted her with a smile.
Niamh sat up, only then realizing she had Peter’s suit jacket draped over her
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shoulders.
“Sorry you had to see me like this,” she apologized, returning the jacket.
“No apologies needed. The only thing I saw was you drooling,” Peter teased.
Niamh reflexively wiped at her mouth while Peter grinned, eyes gleaming with
amusement.
“What are you going to do if you’re this gullible?” he laughed.
It dawned on Niamh that Peter was just messing with her.
“Peter…” she said, half–laughing, half–exasperated. “You know, this really isn’t the image I had of you…”
“Oh? And what image was that?” Peter asked, handing her the breakfast he’d brought. “Let me guess–the uptight, joyless boss who only cares about quarterly numbers and squeezing every ounce of work out of you?”
པ་་པ་་་ ་པཔ
