No More Waiting, She Chooses Love novel Chapter 80

"I’m all about the money. If you don’t have it, even if you look like a god, it’s useless," I said, letting the words hang in the air.

Just then, Ernest looked over. It seemed he had overheard.

I didn't avoid his gaze. There was no future for us anyway, so it was better he heard it straight from me.

I wasn't oblivious. His casual touches and spraying cologne on me today were clear signs that he had feelings for me.

"You're so shallow," Deborah said angrily.

I didn't respond or look at Ernest.

Deborah's phone rang. She glanced at the number and said, "It's Ivan."

Ivan?!

"Yeah, I'm here, in the kiddie zone at the amusement park. Does Ivan need something?... Okay, come on over," Deborah said, then turned to me. "Ivan says he's looking for you."

Ivan looking for me? I hoped it wasn't about Conrad. I had just told him this morning to stop bothering me. Surely, he wouldn't send Ivan after me so soon.

Ivan soon arrived, holding a takeaway box. "Ms. Hudson, Mrs. Wagner sent you this soup, to help with the heat."

Made by Jacqueline?! She hadn’t contacted me, so how would she know I was feeling hot? It must have been Conrad’s doing.

If Conrad sent it, I could have easily refused. But if Jacqueline made it for me, that was a different story.

"Thanks, appreciate it!" I took the box.

Ivan lingered as if he had more to say, probably still feeling guilty about that trip to Crystal Bay Villas. So, I reassured him, "Don't overthink it, Ivan."

"Ms. Hudson, I..."

"It's not your fault. If you insist on worrying, that's on you."

Ivan was clear and to the point, with nothing more to add, except to remind, "Just have the soup, Ms. Hudson. It really helps."

"Why would Mrs. Wagner's soup and dumplings come separately?" Deborah, ever quick to speak, blurted out.

Dustin looked confused. "What?"

But I got it. The soup wasn’t Jacqueline’s doing. It was Conrad’s idea, and Ivan had lied.

He probably thought I’d toss it otherwise.

"It’s nothing. I’ve been craving dumplings, actually," I said, opening the box. The aroma hit me right away.

Despite the sore in my mouth, I wanted them. I grabbed one, the filling stinging the sore but also letting the cheese run out.

Dustin reached out to clean my mouth, cleaning away the escaping broth.

That’s when Ernest’s chilly voice cut through, "With a sore in your mouth, and you’re not even washing your hands before eating? Do you even want it to heal?"