Whispers Turn to Whimpers: Could He Ever Change? novel Chapter 1166

"Alright, then."

Joyce picked up her napkin, dabbed at the corner of her mouth, and reached for her phone. "Sorry to waste your time. Let's just split the bill, okay?"

She’d paid attention to the prices when they ordered, so she quickly Venmoed her share over to the guy.

"You don't have to—" the man tried to protest.

But Joyce waved her phone with a smile. "All done."

She tucked her phone away, grinned, and said, "I'm pretty much finished. Well, if that's it, I'm gonna head out."

The man still wasn't quite ready to give up. "Want me to walk you to your car?"

"No need," Joyce said with a friendly shake of her head and stood up, grabbing her purse. "I drove myself. Super easy."

She gave him a little wave, turned, and walked out.

No sooner had she left than Galen, seated at the next table, jumped up and hurried after her.

Joyce slung her bag over her shoulder and made a beeline for the parking garage.

It was quiet there. She noticed footsteps echoing behind her, following her from the restaurant.

Was she being followed by some creep?

Her heart started to pound.

She slowed down, testing the theory. The footsteps slowed too. She frowned and started to jog; the footsteps sped up, quick and urgent.

Okay. Definitely a stalker.

What do I do?

Joyce took a deep breath, clutching her bag tight. Suddenly, she spun around and, with her eyes squeezed shut, swung her purse wildly. "Ahhh—!"

"Ow—!"

Galen, totally unprepared, got smacked and instinctively threw up his arms to block the bag.

"Joyce, it's me!"

"For me?" Joyce blinked, totally confused. "Is there something I can help you with?"

Kind of, Galen thought, swallowing hard.

"What do you… think of me?"

"Huh?" Joyce gawked, even more perplexed. What kind of question was that?

"Joyce," Galen pressed his lips together, breathing in and out a few times. "I went to Columbia Business School, graduated a year ago, and I help run my family's grocery store chain. My parents are both healthy and well—my dad's a professor at NYU. Besides Sherilyn, I also have a half-sister..."

Joyce stared at him, baffled. Why was he telling her all this? It sounded suspiciously like her earlier date's awkward self-introduction.

"And one more thing," Galen rushed out, "My wife wouldn't ever have to quit her job. I can support her, but I'd support her dreams too—whatever makes her happy."

Joyce's eyes widened. Was he saying what she thought he was saying?

She gaped, half in disbelief. "Wait, what do you mean?"

"Joyce," Galen said, her name crisp and clear, his voice earnest. "I like you. Can I… ask you out?"