Chapter 252: Admitting Mistakes
Man, the aftermath of a crappy night's sleep really hits hard.
I was just lying there, replaying last night's drama in my head. Even though I got it all figured out, I still felt like crap.
After a bit, I heard some rustling next to me. Brad got up without a word and saw me staring at the ceiling, eyes wide open.
We just stayed like that—him looking at me, me staring at the ceiling. Neither of us said a thing.
I crossed my arms, stubbornly deciding I wasn't gonna be the first to talk.
Brad just looked at me, a teasing glint in his eyes.
After about five minutes of this standoff, he finally leaned down and kissed me. His big hand ruffled my hair like he always does. "I'll whip up some breakfast. How about some porridge?"
His voice was all soft and coaxing.
I didn't wanna give him the satisfaction, but my eyes started to get all watery.
I didn't wanna be all emotional, but I couldn't help it.
"Alright, don't be mad. It's my fault. I swear this won't happen again. I've hired a female caregiver for her, and from now on, I'll run everything by you before making any decisions. Trust me, I'll never do anything to hurt you. Don't be mad, okay?"
Brad pulled me into his arms, trying to soothe me.
The more he apologized, the more upset I got.
I mean, I was the one who got ignored all night. I barely slept, while he was out like a light. Of course, I had to cry.
"Why are you crying even more?" He wiped my tears with his knuckles, his voice full of pity and heartache.
"Do you think I wanna cry? It's all because of you! You know what she's after, so why'd you go to her room so late? She was practically naked, trying to seduce you. If I hadn't gone with you, wouldn't she have succeeded?" I sobbed, letting out my frustration.
Brad chuckled and pinched my nose. "Come on, what do you take me for? Even if she's naked, I wouldn't be interested. Don't you know who I want? If you don't, let me remind you."
He grabbed my hand and pressed it against his lower abdomen.
Under the thin silk pajamas, I could feel his erection, clear as day.
I yanked my hand back like I'd been shocked, my face burning up. "I don't wanna touch it."
"How does it feel?" Brad asked, smirking.
I was too embarrassed to look up. "Feel what? Who wants to touch it, you perv."
Brad laughed heartily. "Not mad anymore? Let me tell you a secret, it's all yours. Except for when I miss you too much and, you know, take care of things myself, it's never been used. It's all yours."
I was floored by how casually he talked about this stuff, while he just laughed.
Twenty-nine-year-old Brad was surprisingly loyal.
"Yesterday was the first time something like that happened, so I was caught off guard. But no matter what she did, I wouldn't be swayed. But you, my dear, I didn't realize you had such a wild side. You really shut Jenny up. Impressive."
"What, you feeling sorry for her? She was after my man, she deserved it. If she tries it again, I won't just talk to her."
"What are you gonna do?"
"Do?" I angrily rolled up my imaginary sleeves. "I'll storm in and slap her."
"Haha, you little schemer, you really care about me that much? Your method's a bit off, but your heart's in the right place. I like it. Don't worry, its first time will be yours." He grabbed my hand and placed it back on his lower abdomen, rubbing it forcefully.
What a shameless Brad. Who even said that?
I pounded his chest in shame and anger, but he just laughed even more gleefully.
Annoying guy, always trying to seduce me.
And just like that, he had me wrapped around his finger.
With just a few sweet words, I stupidly let go of the anger I'd been holding onto all night.
But there were still some things I needed to clear up with him.
As he wrapped his arms around me and we headed to the kitchen to make breakfast, we remembered we were in a hotel, which didn't have a kitchen for us to use.
Luckily, Yancy's call came just in time, summoning us home for breakfast.
Breakfast at home was simple: porridge, eggs, golden crispy toast, and pickles.
Mia wanted to get up and eat by herself, but I ruthlessly stopped her.
I had just checked on my phone that after a girl has a miscarriage, the most important thing is to rest. She must stay in bed for the first few days. Sitting for so long like she did yesterday was very bad for her health.
I sent Yancy, who was bringing food to the table, to feed Mia, and took over his task of setting the table.
Yancy, who had been eager to see Mia, happily carried the bowl of porridge into the guest room.
After changing his clothes, Brad, with nothing to do, sat on the sofa, flipping through my phone.
Of course, he wasn't checking what I had been up to.
I had a habit of uploading my work to the cloud on my phone. After a busy day yesterday, he hadn't had a chance to look. With nothing else to do now, he was looking at the new paintings I had completed in the two months he had been away.
Brad's skill in painting was much better than mine. In this regard, he was both a teacher and a friend to me, and he could provide the most honest advice and help.
Painting was a meticulous task, and with the additional demands of attending classes, it was not a full-time occupation. Meanwhile, I had very high standards for myself, never allowing quantity to compromise quality. So, the actual number of completed works in two months wasn't much.
He sat beneath the dawn's gentle light, absorbed in my paintings. His thick eyebrows occasionally furrowed and then relaxed, his eyes bright, and the smile on his lips was very charming.
"How did I do, Brad?" I asked. After serving the porridge, I pulled him to the table and waited for Yancy to finish feeding Mia so we could all have breakfast together.
Brad followed my lead, his eyes never leaving the phone. He constantly zoomed in on the images to check the details.
Hearing my question, the smile on his face deepened, filled with undisguised amazement and appreciation.
"Very good, much better than I expected. Oh well, I feel so much pressure now. I've worked hard for so many years, never slacking off, and even though I started learning to paint years before you, you already seem to be surpassing me. You're amazing, baby."
Surpassing Brad? I wasn't that confident yet. After all, in terms of talent, he was no less than me, and he was much more diligent. Plus, the inherent differences in worldview and perspective between men and women made his paintings more grand and majestic. Larry also said that I needed to broaden my horizons and absorb more.
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