Chapter 716
Lillian suddenly snapped back to reality and realized her cheeks were cold. She raised her hand, awkwardly trying to wipe away the tears at the corners of her eyes.
Jackson's warm fingers had already gently touched her face, slowly wiping away the moisture from her eyes.
Lillian's emotions were in turmoil. She pushed Jackson's hand away, but her gaze remained on the painting. "When did you paint this?"
Jackson rubbed the tears on his fingertips, a look of pain and pity rising in his eyes.
He wrapped his arm around her waist. "After you left, Grandma's health wasn't good. I've been coming to the Frane Mansion more often and painted it when I had free time."
Lillian knew he was lying, because such a large painting couldn't have been completed overnight. Jackson was always busy; he must have painted it during his rest time.
"Why did you paint this?" Lillian's voice was very soft, and Jackson couldn't tell if she was happy or sad.
He lowered his eyes, instinctively tightening his arm slightly. "I..."
Before Jackson could finish, Lillian smiled lightly and said, "Are you trying to use this painting to make up for regrets? But the painting can't become reality! The happiness in the painting only reminds us of how broken reality is."
Lillian choked slightly. She forced herself to look away from it.
She lowered her head to pull Jackson's arm from around her waist, but Jackson tightened his grip.
Jackson had clearly just taken a shower in another room; he was only wearing a bathrobe.
The bathrobe's sleeves were wide, and Lillian couldn't pull Jackson's arm away, leaving red marks on his arms from her scratching.
But even so, Jackson still wouldn't let go.
He remained silent, letting Lillian struggle harder and scratch more fiercely.
It wasn't until Lillian's emotions were spent and she gradually calmed down, her arms hanging weakly, that Jackson rested his head on her shoulder and said in a hoarse voice, "Lillian, there's still a long life ahead. I believe that one day, this painting will become reality. We will remarry, have another baby, and then you can teach him to sing, play the piano, and dance, while I teach him to paint and do business."
Jackson's voice grew more hoarse, filled with hope.
Lillian's heart was stirred, feeling both sour and bitter, and tears welled up in her eyes again.
Her voice trembled slightly, but she coldly interrupted his beautiful vision, "But even if we have another baby, it won't be Taylor."
She had told him this before, but Jackson seemed to never understand.
Jackson's body stiffened, but only for a moment. He grabbed Lillian's shoulders, turning her to face him.
Jackson's eyes were bloodshot as he stared at her. "Lillian, we can't stay stuck in the past forever. Taylor wouldn't want you to be trapped in the past because of him. Let's start over. Give me a chance to make it right, okay?"
Lillian looked at the hope and stubbornness in his deep eyes, feeling her heart tighten.
She widened her tear-filled eyes. "You're not Taylor, so how do you know Taylor would forgive parents like us? Don't you think it's selfish to say that?"
Lillian forced back the tears, making her eyes look colder.
Jackson's jawline tightened, and the hand on her shoulder went from hot to trembling and cold.
Just moments ago in the dressing room, he had held Lillian so close.
He could feel that Lillian hadn't forgotten him; she still had feelings for him.
When Lillian had shyly broken free and fled, he had the illusion that she still loved him.
But now, sensing Lillian's usual resolute and cold demeanor, Jackson thought he was still overconfident.
The heat in Jackson's eyes gradually faded into darkness. Lillian looked at Jackson, her voice softening. "Thank you for taking care of Max during this time, for helping Shirley before, and for speaking up for me in front of the Franes just now. If these are your ways of making amends, I accept them. Jackson, I no longer resent you, really."
Lillian wasn't heartless. After recovering from postpartum depression, she had thought a lot.
The events of that night couldn't be entirely blamed on Jackson; she had her own responsibility.
She had resented Jackson deeply before, thinking he was protecting the Price Family and Star.
But now, it seemed that wasn't the case.
With Max waking up and Jackson's actions in recent days, Lillian no longer hated him. But that was all.
However, when Jackson heard her say she no longer resented him, his heart, which had felt like it had sunk into an icy lake, began to beat again.
A glimmer of light returned to his eyes.
He was about to tell Lillian that he did all this not to make amends but because he still loved her when Lillian spoke again, "You just said in front of Grandma and the others that from now on, I owe nothing to the Frane Family and have no relationship with them. So, let's keep it that way, with no ties and each finding our own happiness."
The little hope and spark in Jackson's heart were extinguished by Lillian's words, like a bucket of ice water.
Especially Lillian's last sentence, which felt like a thorn stabbing into his chest.
His handsome face turned cold. "Each finding our own happiness? Who do you want to be happy with? Ambrose? How far have you two gotten?"
Jackson's questions were filled with undisguised anger and jealousy, as if she was about to cheat on him.
Feeling a bit helpless, Lillian took a deep breath. "Even if I really want to be with him, it has nothing to do with you!"
"So, you really plan to be with him?" Jackson's voice was extremely gloomy, and Lillian felt it was difficult to communicate with him.
She pushed Jackson away, went to the bed to find the hairdryer, and sat at the vanity to dry her hair.
If they couldn't communicate, she would just give up trying, letting him thought whatever he wanted.
But Jackson felt her silence was a form of acquiescence and hint. The thought that she might really accept Ambrose and be with another man, making love and even having kids, made the veins on Jackson's forehead throb, his head ache, and dark thoughts fill his mind.
However, seeing Lillian sitting quietly at the vanity, drying her hair as she used to, Jackson felt a moment of daze, as if he had returned to the past.
Four months ago, Lillian would never have sat so calmly in front of him.
He didn't want Lillian to hate him anymore.
Suppressing his anger, Jackson walked behind Lillian and took her wrist holding the hairdryer. "Let me do it."
Lillian looked at him in the mirror, meeting his deep, persistent eyes. Not wanting to argue with him, she let go.
Her hair was thick and long, and it always took a long time to dry, making her wrist ache.
If Jackson wanted to help, she might as well treat him like a hairdresser.
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