No More Waiting, She Chooses Love
Chapter 85

I felt embarrassed for Deborah just watching her. She was embarrassed too, but she has this knack for shaking things off with a giggle, "Sure thing, Mr. Collins, thanks for the trouble." Deborah set down my bag and hustled over to me, bumping against me lightly as she pulled me forward, murmuring, "Has Mr. Collins got PMS or something? He seems a bit off today." I didn't reply. Deborah sensed Ernest was being harsh, but I wondered... maybe he asked Deborah to fetch her own meal so she wouldn't tire me out.

Was he being considerate towards me?

The thought made me shiver again, and I felt like I was becoming vain or maybe overthinking things.

"Let's sit separately later," I suggested after we got our meals, remembering last night's incident of sleeping over in Ernest's room. I just couldn't face him yet.

"Why split up? Why not sit together? It's the perfect time to discuss today's plans," Deborah countered with a work-related excuse I couldn't argue with.

But I saw through her. "You just wanna watch a hottie while you eat, right?"

"Girl, you know me so well!" Deborah grinned cheekily.

Knowing I couldn't avoid sharing a table with Ernest anymore, I dropped the subject. Otherwise, Deborah might start making wild guesses again. This girl might have some quirky thoughts, but she's sharp. However, just as we sat down, someone approached us. "Deborah, is that really you?"

A pretty girl stood there, also holding a breakfast tray.

Deborah jumped up, thrilled. "Hi, what are you doing here?"

"I'm on a business trip. It's been a while, hasn't it? Mind if I join you?" the girl invited Deborah.

Deborah glanced at Ernest first, then at me, before she cheerfully agreed, "Yeah, sure."

She picked up her tray, nodded at Ernest and me, and followed her old classmate away.

Suddenly, it was just Ernest and me at the breakfast table, and I felt even more uncomfortable.

"You don't have to be embarrassed. It's not like we... slept together," Ernest's words made me almost choke on my soup.

Covering my mouth, he passed me a napkin. As I cleaned my mouth and fought to calm my cough, I leaned in and whispered sternly, "Why didn't you wake me up last night?"

"I did, but you didn't wake up," Ernest replied nonchalantly, continuing his breakfast.

"I don't believe you." I usually slept lightly.

"Well, that's your problem. I did call you," Ernest shrugged, indifferent.

Irritated and remembering that I must have ended up in his bed because he carried me, I felt a surge of embarrassment, "Even if you couldn't wake me up, you could have taken me back to my room." "Alright, next time I will," Ernest's response caught me off guard.

Next time? In his dreams.

I bit into a muffin viciously, then paused to remind him, "You better not let Deborah know about last night."

Ernest had finished his meal and was cleaning his mouth, "What are you afraid of? Afraid she'll get the wrong idea about us? Afraid it'll tarnish your reputation, or scared it'll upset your boyfriends?" His words made me choke again. "What did you say?"

"Ms. Hudson, if anyone should be worried, it should be me," Ernest spoke, folding his napkin meticulously.

"What are you afraid of, huh?" I was both confused and angry.