Goodbye, Mr. Regret

Jessica froze, her body tensing for a split second before she shoved Timothy

away with all her strength. She yanked the comforter up to shield herself, glaring at him with a wariness that hadn't been there before.

"It was just a kiss. Was that really necessary?" Timothy scoffed.

She never used to react like this.

Her rejection stoked his frustration-ever since Herbert Wheeler had shown up, Jessica hardly let Timothy touch her at all.

Jessica silently cursed her inability to speak; if she could, she would have called him a creep to his face.

As if he even realized where he'd tried to kiss her.

After making sure the blanket was secure around her, Jessica reached out and signed, "Trying to pull that stunt in broad daylight at the hospital? Get out. I'll change by myself."

Timothy's irritation softened, if only a little.

She was shy-especially in the middle of the day, in a hospital room no less. With her temperament, of course she couldn't accept it.

As long as she wasn't pushing him away for another man, he could live with it.

He was still coaxing her, after all; the last thing he wanted was to drive her so far that she'd never come home again.

So he left the room.

Jessica dressed in a hurry and slipped out of the ward.

Timothy was waiting outside. He caught her hand and led her toward the exit, his grip firm and possessive.

She ignored him the entire way home. When they returned to The Gilded Whisper Estates, Henry was nestled up against Sheila, chatting with her. "Miss Sheila, could you please talk to my dad? Tell him now's not the time for a wedding. If he's not embarrassed, I am!"

"Henry!" Timothy's voice was cold, sharp as ice.

Henry looked up and saw his father's stony expression. Remembering the scolding he'd received at the paper-cutting contest that morning, he shrank back and clung to Sheila's arm, hiding behind her.

Jessica almost hoped they could talk Timothy out of this. She didn't want a wedding, either.

"Timothy, Jessy, you're back," Sheila greeted them politely, then turned to Timothy. "You shouldn't be so harsh with Henry all the time. It's not good for his development."

Just then, Mabel appeared and announced, "Sir, ma'am, dinner's ready. You can come to the table."

Timothy had intended to lecture Henry, but with dinner ready and guests around, now was hardly the time.

Neither he nor Jessica had eaten lunch, so he said, "Let's eat first."

He reached for Jessica's hand, leading her to the dining room. Pulling out her chair like a perfect gentleman, he waited for her to sit before taking his own seat.noveldrama

Sheila brought Henry over, and the two of them sat across from Timothy and Jessica.

Timothy, all smooth manners and quiet authority, ladled a bowl of soup for Jessica and set it in front of her. "You just got over a high fever and skipped lunch. Have some soup-it'll settle your stomach."

His voice was gentle, almost tender.

Sheila felt as if her heart were being squeezed.

Once, that kind of tenderness had belonged to her.

Jessica kept her head down, quietly eating.

Whether Sheila was there or not, it barely seemed to matter to her anymore.

Timothy kept serving Jessica, picking out pieces of food for her-even removing

the bones from the fish before placing it on her plate.

For Sheila, every moment of this dinner was agony.

Jessica glanced up from time to time, her gaze flickering to Sheila.

Sheila's expression was a study in contradiction.

And Jessica didn't believe for a second that Sheila and Timothy shared nothing but friendship.

She was a woman-she'd been in love-she knew exactly what it looked like.

And Sheila was still desperately in love with Timothy.

Jessica looked at Timothy and tapped her fork toward the shrimp on the table.

He immediately picked one up, peeled it, and put it in her plate.

One wasn't enough-he peeled another. Then another.

Sheila could barely stay seated.

Henry, meanwhile, looked utterly bewildered. He couldn't understand why, all of a

sudden, his father was being so attentive to his mother.