Chapter 577 Oliver, You're Not Married Anymore
"It doesn't look right," Oliver said as he gently pinched Natalie's chin, scrutinizing her delicate features with a serious gaze. "A little weight would look good on you."
A bit more to fill out the body.
Natalie scoffed, her tone dripping with irony, "Men's words are nothing but lies."
"What did you say?"
Oliver almost thought he had misheard.
"I'd rather believe in ghosts than in a man's sweet-talking lies."
This time, Oliver was sure he heard her correctly.
He couldn't help but find it hilarious that the usually dignified Mrs. Windsor would say such a thing. He was caught between surprise and laughter.
"I'm telling the truth, I'm not lying to you."
Oliver propped his face on his hand, engaging her in conversation with remarkable patience and deliberately slowing his speech just in case she was too tipsy to follow.
"Even if you're telling the truth, I wouldn't believe it." Natalie took a few more sips of her drink and her thoughts began to leap, "I want to be beautiful, not overweight."
Thin was the new definition of beauty.
Oliver couldn't help but smile, caressing her cheek and saying, "You are beautiful, Natalie."
"You're lying," Natalie retorted with a skeptical snort.
"I'm not lying to you." In a moment spurred by some mischievous impulse, Oliver stood up, tilted her chin up, and planted a kiss on her lips, saying sincerely, "You are the most beautiful, sweetheart."
The soft, tender sensation was sweet and lingered delightfully.
Oliver's gaze remained on Natalie's lips, his tongue briefly darting over his own.
Natalie, a beat slower, touched her lips, unable to recall how the kiss had happened.
Oliver watched her silently, waiting for her next move – would she kiss him back in a moment of passion, slap him like she would have sober, or innocently ask why he kissed her?
"Who's the most beautiful?" Natalie asked.
Was she really asking that?
"Who is the most beautiful?" she persisted.
Oliver, dumbfounded, realized she hadn't processed the kiss at all.
Helplessly, he said, "You, Natalie, my darling."
"How so?"
"You're the most beautiful."
"Who's the most beautiful?"
"You."
"And how is that?"
Stuck in a loop.
Oliver let out a sigh, unsure whether to laugh. Natalie, tipsy as she was, had become quite the handful, fixating on whether she was considered pretty or not.
The bonfire party moved into its second act, enlivened by a local folk band, and after their set, a new group took to the stage, dancing in a more upbeat style.
The crowd of twenty-something guests split into small clusters—some were by the sidelines, sipping drinks, chatting, and watching the dancers, while others huddled together playing games, with cheers and applause erupting now and then. The atmosphere was lively.
Natalie had stopped drinking for about twenty minutes, her mind somewhat clearer than before.
"Let's play a game too, Oliver. just drinking is boring," she suggested, dragging her gaze away from the gaming group.
Still able to critique the fun in drinking, typical Natalie.
"What do you wanna play?" Oliver obliged.
After a moment's thought, she said, "Beer pong."
"You know how to play?" Oliver was surprised again.
"Of course," Miss Watson replied pridefully, lifting her chin slightly.
"Drinking alone isn't much fun either. If you lose, you answer a question from the other person. If you don't want to answer, take a drink. How about that?" After explaining, Oliver asked, "Got it?"
"Oliver, are you doubting my intelligence?" Natalie retorted, slightly miffed.
Alcohol often amplifies and externalizes emotions, making it easier to read someone's true feelings, just like Natalie's at that moment.
Oliver's smile widened, "Not at all, Mrs. Windsor is very clever."
"Of course!" Only the word "clever" registered with Natalie, completely missing his use of "Mrs. Windsor."
In the next ten minutes, Natalie refreshed Oliver's impression of her.
Her game skills were impressive. Even inebriated, her mind seemed clear. No, it was as if her skill operated independently from her brain, functioning as its own system, providing a distinct strategy the moment her hand moved.
Oliver started off casually, but gradually his play became more serious.
After a lively bout, they ended in a draw.
"Not bad at all," Oliver conceded, viewing his wife in a new light that evening.
Natalie, slightly proud and more forthright after a few drinks, confessed, "I'm not just good at the beer pong. Quarter, Flip Cup, Kings —I'm quite the whiz at all of them!"
Oliver raised an eyebrow at this unexpected revelation. Although boasting about those wasn't particularly impressive, he couldn't help but feel a sense of pride.
At first, they simply exchanged casual questions, taking a sip of their drink whenever they encountered one they'd prefer not to answer. Sometimes, Natalie would take a drink just for the fun of it.
Gradually, Natalie found her glass emptied significantly more than Oliver’s, her mind spinning back to the buzz she'd felt half an hour before.
Another round ended, and Natalie came out on top.
Resting her chin on one hand, Natalie gazed across the table at the handsome man and asked, "Oliver, why did you start craving the spotlight these past few weeks?"
Oliver was taken aback. “Craving the spotlight?”
Reading the confusion on his face, Natalie clarified, "You began to enjoy being on TV, being in the news." Like a peacock suddenly spreading its feathers to catch every light.
Oliver's appearances had captivated countless hearts, from teenage girls to mature women.
"What do you think?" Oliver's relaxed demeanor began to fade away.
"I have no idea," Natalie rolled her eyes, thinking to herself, would I even be asking if I knew?
She had a small wine stain at the corner of her mouth, which Oliver gently wiped away with a hot towel he'd grabbed from a waiter.
"Because," Oliver paused, his gaze growing more intense, "I hoped there would be someone who'd see me more often."
"Why?" Natalie tilted her head, her brain ceasing to work properly.
"I'm afraid she'd forget me if she didn't see me for too long."
"Who is she?" Natalie asked curiously.
"...My wife."
Natalie set down her glass and propped her face in her hands, closing her eyes to ponder for a moment before seriously saying to Oliver, "That's not right, you don't have a wife anymore. Oliver, you're divorced."
Oliver nearly choked, frustration evident in his expression.
"I'm not divorced," he confessed carelessly, emboldened by Natalie's inebriation.
"Oliver, snap out of it, you don’t have a wife!" Natalie's expression was concerned.
Oliver had a fake smile, "Let's play another round, keep it going."
Natalie nodded sleepily and murmured, "Okay, okay," as they carried on.
This time Oliver won rather quickly.
"Natalie, do you... still love me?"
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