No More Waiting, She Chooses Love
Chapter 693

"Time for dinner," Phipps called out to me.

I didn't move, just watched him as he set the table. "Come on, give it a taste."

Under the soft glow of the lamp, he bore an uncanny resemblance to Ernest. It was almost eerie, especially the way he stirred the pot earlier. People can disguise themselves, but oftentimes, it's the little habits and gestures they can't hide.

So Phipps was my Ernest, wasn't he?

With that thought, I got up and walked over, wrapping my arms around him from behind, my cheek pressed against his back.

Phipps tensed up but didn't push me away. Instead, he said, "Dinner's ready."

"You're Ernest, aren't you?" I whispered.

Phipps didn't answer. I turned him around to face me, insisting, "There's no one else here, just you and me. Tell me you're Ernest, please?"

"I'm not," he replied coldly, shattering my fantasy.

"I am Phipps!" he stressed.

I didn't ask further, just slowly let go of his hand and even apologized, "Sorry, you cooking in that apron, even stirring the pot with your left hand three times... You reminded me so much of Ernest." Phipps's jaw tightened. "That's just a coincidence."

"Yeah, a coincidence that you look so much like him, I thought you were him," I said with a bitter smile, sitting down at the table and picking up a fork to try his food.

I frowned as soon as I tasted it. Phipps noticed and asked, "Not good? Too salty or too bland?"

I didn't answer. My frown wasn't because of the taste or the seasoning, but because it wasn't Ernest's cooking.

So, he wasn't Ernest.

This man had me oscillating between hope and despair, torturing me with the uncertainty.

"Hmm?" Phipps seemed patient, waiting for my response.

I put down my fork and lied, "It's not great."

He didn't seem disappointed, just said, "I'll make something else."

"No, don't bother," I stopped him.

"It's okay. I can make plenty of other dishes," he seemed eager to please, as if he was afraid of being rejected.

"I know, but let's save it for another time. It's late," I said, brightening his mood.

"You mean I can cook for you again?" he asked, his face lighting up.

Seeing his enthusiasm, I figured he really did want to stay.

I nodded, "I'll have some soup."

His soup, made with the same care as Ernest's, surely couldn't taste all that different.

And I was right. His soup was delicious, almost as good as Ernest's.

"Join me, I can't finish it all by myself. It'd be a waste," I invited Phipps to share the late-night meal.

We ate in silence, and towards the end, remembering a promise to Susie

asked, "Would you pretend to

be Ernest for me?" Contonet

He froze slightly, his gaze searching.

h

"Don't get me wrong. It's not what you think. I just need you to play along," I explained, making him

ober

resume eating.

"That'll cost extra," he joked, making me laugh.

I agreed easily, "Fine! But only if you don't mess it up. If you do, not only will I not pay you, I'll fine you."

Phipps was straightforward, "No love scenes."

I choked on my soup, laughing so hard that it sprayed all over him.

Phipps didn't get mad. Instead, as he

wiped himself off with a napkin, he teased, Ms. Hudson, if you want me to stay the night, you can just say so. No need for such elaborate schemes."