Dear Ex-wife Marry Me (Maja and Ian) novel Chapter 1969

Fitch's wound was slowly healing, but come midnight, he found himself itching to scratch at the scab.

Nolan was sound asleep between them, and Zoey, without even opening her eyes, said in a cool tone, "Move again, and you'll wake Nolan."

Fitch felt a pang of jealousy but didn't dare ask for anything, merely grunting in response, subdued.

Nolan was blissfully unaware of the undercurrents between the two, sleeping peacefully in the middle.

A month later, Zoey took Nolan to a gathering in Greenfield. It was her first such outing since coming back.

Fitch mingled with a group of men, his gaze lingering on her throughout the event. He saw her chatting happily with Maja, then laughing with Carol about something.

She seemed much more open, and although she was cold to him, just being by her side gave him some peace. As for his current heartache, he knew he deserved it.

Aware of this, he always found himself sneaking glances at her from secluded corners.

After mingling with her friends, the men started to approach.

Cornelia was approached by Omar Casson, who she pushed away, only for him to cling back, his tone through gritted teeth.

"Cornelia, enough is enough. Haven't you had your fill of rumors with others? Talking to people tonight, I felt like I was wearing a cuckold’s hat."

Cornelia, having recently won a prestigious award, was in a good mood, poking Omar in the chest with her finger. "You don't have to wear it."

Omar took a deep breath, his fingers curling slightly. "That's not what I meant."

"Then what? You're implying I'm fickle, that I'm promiscuous?"

"No, but next time you spark a rumor, at least pick someone decent. The guy tonight was so arrogant in front of me, I had someone sideline him. Cornelia, even if it's just to spite me, you should aim higher."

Cornelia stiffened, looking up at him.

Omar, already worn down, raised his hand to her waist, "Don’t demean yourself on purpose."

Even Cornelia, with her thick skin, remembered then that Omar had bought the house.

She apologized to the young actor who had just won an award, "Sorry about that, I had too much to drink last night."

Once he left, only she and Omar remained.

Omar had the house disinfected and then sold it.

Now, looking at Omar, she suddenly felt tired, yawning, "I think I need to rest."

His eyes, cold and detached, "My place tonight?"

Like a consort waiting for a favor.

She instantly smiled, "Sure, Mr. Casson."