No More Waiting, She Chooses Love
Chapter 92

"Do we have any wipes at home?" he asked me again. "Or even a towel would work. I just need to wipe myself down."

He was holding one of my towels but seemed hesitant to use it on his own clothes.

"We've got some face wipes. They'll do the job if you wet them," I said, pulling out a couple for him.

He looked slightly puzzled at the face wipes, as if he had never seen them before.

I couldn't help but laugh. "Mr. Collins, don't tell me you've never seen these before?"

"Well, first time," he admitted with an endearing cluelessness.

Well, that made sense. He'd never been in a relationship, and without any women around, it was no wonder he was unfamiliar with face wipes, a novelty of the last few years.

"These are disposable, usually used for washing faces," I explained, dampening the wipes for him and handing them over.

Ernest started cleaning the dirt and grime off his body, and I noticed there was some on his back too. Naturally, I grabbed another wipe and started helping him clean it off.

The moment I touched him, I could feel Ernest stiffen slightly, but I pretended not to notice and continued wiping.

Then, I spotted a mole on the back of his neck, and for some reason, it reminded me of a dream I had a dream about a boy with a similar mole.

I was momentarily lost in thought until Ernest called my name, snapping me back to reality. I realized the wipe in my hand had soaked his shirt through.

"Uh, that should do it," I said, withdrawing my hand.

Looking at the mole on his neck, I couldn't help but ask, "Ernest, have you had that mole since you were little?"

He touched it lightly. "Yeah, since I was a kid."

My heart skipped a beat. Could the boy in my dream actually be Ernest?

It was bizarre. I hadn't known Ernest for very long, so how could I dream of him as a child, let alone have him carry me on his back?

Dreams are just a figment of the imagination, sure, but this one felt oddly specific and real, especially since I had no idea Ernest had a mole on his neck until today.

"I'm good now, let's go," Ernest said, turning around and pulling me out of my tangled thoughts.

As we headed downstairs, we bumped into Mrs. Thompson from the upstairs apartment. She complimented Ernest, "Such a nice young man. Do come over more often, maybe help us out too." Inside, I was rolling my eyes. Mrs. Thompson definitely didn't hold back when it came to asking for favors.

Ernest, however, just smiled and agreed. "Sure."

Such a people-pleaser, always ready to help out.

But I doubted he meant it. How could he possibly come back here?

Outside, Ernest looked around the neighborhood. "This place might be old, but it's got a nice vibe."

"It used to be better. Now it's mostly renters, not what it used to be," I replied nonchalantly.

He hummed in agreement, and as we got into the car, he suddenly asked, "How much is the rent around here?"

I turned to look at him. "Why?"

He buckled up. "Just checking the market, for when I look for a place."

It seemed like an innocent question, but something felt off.

"What's Ms. Hudson treating me to?" Ernest changed the subject before I could dwell on it.

"What do you feel like eating?" I asked as we drove away from the neighborhood.

"I'm easy. I'll have whatever you're having," he said, always so accommodating.

Thinking of how he had helped me out so much today, I decided to treat him to something special. But just as we entered the restaurant, I spotted someone I wished I hadn't seen. And, of course, that person saw me too. After a moment of surprise, they started walking my way.