Whispers Turn to Whimpers: Could He Ever Change? novel Chapter 441

Chapter 441 

What’s going on here? 

Sherilyn peered into his face, searching for clues. Was this a breakup in the making? 

She had to admit, panic was setting in. “Gilbert…” 

“Leave!” 

Gilbert’s eyes were shadowed, a tired gesture of his hand accompanying his command, “Go! While I’m not regretting this, just leave!” 

Sherilyn stood frozen, dumbstruck. 

“Leave, will you!” 

His sudden outburst made Sherilyn’s shoulders tremble. With a furrowed brow, she hesitated, then turned and walked away. 

Her footsteps echoed, growing fainter until the door to the study clicked shut. Gilbert’s gaze sharpened as he stood and made his way to the liquor cabinet. 

The burn of whiskey was a poor distraction from his thoughts. Did anyone remember that today was his birthday? 

His birthday, not Mr. Gilbert’s. Probably not. 

In the early years, Caroline used to sneak him gifts, whispering a happy birthday. 

But those days had faded… 

Tonight, all he wanted was to spend his birthday with someone special to him. Yet, even that simple wish seemed out of reach… 

And he had driven that person away… 

Sherilyn must have left, right? Of course, she did. Being with him was never her choice. 

It was late, the night pitch black. What if she ran into some creep? 

Gilbert regretted it immediately. He shouldn’t have told her to leave, not at this hour. He should have waited until dawn. 

Picking up his phone, intending to call her, he hesitated and turned the screen off again. 

He was scared… 

Knock, knock. 

The study door was knocked on again. 

Gilbert’s head shot up, the door opening to reveal Sherilyn. She hadn’t left? 

15:07 

With a stole face, he watched her approach, bing his tongue to test reality 

n hurt 

This was real 

**ey* 

Close now, he could hear her soft sigh. 

Then, Sherilyn took his hand, her eyes and long lashes conveying a gentle voice. 

“Drinking on an empty stomach is bad for you. Are you hungry? I made some spaghetti, want to share?” 

Gilbert glanced at the arm she was holding, swallowing hard. 

She hadn’t left, and she had made him spaghetti? 

He tried to sound indifferent. “I don’t like it.” 

Sherilyn was momentarily taken aback, annoyed. He was so difficult to please. 

But she persisted, “It’s homemade, I rolled the dough myself. It’s different, want to try? 

Gilbert raised an eyebrow, noncommittal. 

“Come on.” 

Seizing the moment, Sherilyn linked her arm with his, leading him downstairs, “I used chicken broth from the fridge for the sauce, it’s delicious.” 

Gilbert said nothing as she pulled him to the dining room. 

On the table, two plates of spaghetti, one large, one small. 

The larger one for him, the smaller for her.