No More Waiting, She Chooses Love
Chapter 90

I'm not sure why, but the complex lighting at the amusement park never gave me a headache. Yet now, I replace myself tangled in a mess I don't want to deal with.

"You don't trust me?" he asked.

"It's not that, it's just..." My gaze landed on him, noticing his shirt was clearly stained and the hem of his jeans was damp.

Seeing him like this, I felt a twinge of guilt.

"I've got this, go on," he said, patting the top of my head. "Be good."

That touch sent a tingle through my scalp, a sensation so different from when Dustin had playfully tousled my hair not long ago.

This feeling was hard to pin down-it was warm and sweet, with a hint of tartness, like finally replaceing something I didn't even know I was missing.

I couldn't bear Ernest's gaze for long and scurried away as he asked, to fetch the items he needed. When I returned, I found Ernest mopping up a puddle in the hallway.

Entering the room, the floor that had been flooded was now spotless, as if untouched by water, and shone from a thorough cleaning.

In the short time I was gone, he hadn't been idle.

At that moment, looking at our home as if it had never been flooded, a lump formed in my throat.

"I checked downstairs; there's no leakage, so you won't have to worry about compensating anyone," Ernest added.

Not only was he capable, but he also paid attention to every detail. I was choked up and couldn't speak.

Ernest began fixing the plumbing, and there I was, just watching him work with the ease of someone tuning the lights on a stage.

Leaning against the doorway, I teased, "Ernest, is there anything you can't do?"

"There is," he replied, without stopping his work.

"What's that?"

He glanced back at me. "Giving birth."

His reply instantly lightened my mood, and I quickly retorted, "You don't have to give birth, as long as you can make someone else do it for you."

"Ah, that's definitely not a problem," he joined in the banter.

But then it went quiet, and I could feel my cheeks turning red from embarrassment. Our chat had suddenly gotten a bit flirty.

To ease the awkwardness, I added, "Ernest, anyone who marries you would be incredibly lucky."

"Why don't you agree to marry me then?" He always had a way of catching me off guard with his direct questions.

I lowered my gaze, taking a moment before responding, "I'm too complicated. Like you said, there's the ex-fiancé, and the unclear romantic interests... And you, you've never been in a relationship. You're too pure; I don't deserve you."

Ernest didn't respond, and after a moment, I turned away and walked to the balcony to tend to the potted flowers I'd brought home.

Soon, I heard Ernest heading downstairs. Peeking from the balcony, I saw him back on the ground, twisting a valve open.

Was it fixed?

I went to the kitchen and turned on the faucet.

The water ran clear and smoothly through the newly installed tap, and as I lost myself watching it, I suddenly felt a pair of arms encircle me from behind.

He semi-enveloped me in his embrace, turning off the faucet with a low voice whispering in my ear, "Ever heard of saving water?"

My heart raced, and I instinctively tried to step away, but he didn't budge.

"Ernest..." I raised my hand to push him away, but instead, my palm met with his firm muscles.

It felt as if I'd touched a hot iron, the heat spreading rapidly from my palm...