Chapter 444 Throwing Herself into His Arms
Just as Gregory was feeling a twinge of jealousy, Abigail hooked his finger.
He turned his head, only to be met with her radiant smile. Her sparkling eyes locked onto his as she winked and mouthed silently, "I like you the most."
Gregory was momentarily stunned, not by pain, but by a warm, tingling sensation that melted away his irritation.
How could his Abigail be so perfect? She always seemed to sense his emotions, no matter how subtle or irrational they were. And every time, she reassured him in the simplest, most heartfelt ways, making sure he knew he was irreplaceable in her heart.
Moved, Gregory grasped her wrist gently, his lips curving into a smile.
At that moment, Henry suddenly clapped his hands, breaking the tender atmosphere. His face lit up with excitement as if he'd just remembered something. "Oh, right! I forgot to tell you all—Tricia and I have decided to have the wedding in a little while. You all must come!"
Everyone froze for a moment, surprised. "Wedding?"
Henry said, nodding eagerly, "Yep. Abigail reminded me once that Tricia lacks a sense of security, and I've been thinking about it. I want to give her that. A wedding feels like the right step."
Marriage was only the beginning. Henry was determined to spend his life loving and protecting Tricia, no matter what challenges came their way.
Abigail's initial surprise quickly turned into joy. "That's wonderful! Tricia has always dreamed of a grand wedding. I'm so happy for her."
Henry's smile softened, his eyes filled with love. "Her happiness means everything to me. I've already spoken to my family, and they've given their blessing. The date is set for two months from now."
Abigail clasped her hands together, beaming with delight. "I'm thrilled for you both. As your friend, I'll make sure to prepare a very special wedding gift. You can count on it!"
Henry laughed. "Great! I'll hold you to that."
Mireille chimed in, her tone playful yet sincere. "Count me in too! I wouldn't miss it for the world."
Quinn, of course, nodded. "I'll be there. You can rely on me."
After some laughter and chatter, Abigail started to feel drowsy. Noticing this, Gregory quietly said his goodbyes and carried her out.
Henry also stood up. "I should get going too. Tricia's waiting for me at home."
He had drunk quite a bit tonight and his face was flushed, but his eyes sparkled with happiness when he mentioned Tricia.
Quinn, concerned about Henry driving alone, called a ride service for him.
After seeing Henry off, Quinn turned to Mireille. "I've kept your room ready for you. Go get some sleep."
Mireille, exhausted, nodded obediently and headed upstairs.
The living room was suddenly empty, leaving Quinn alone. He looked at the disarray in the dining room, with cups scattered across the table, and frowned in exasperation.
As someone with severe OCD, this was intolerable. But it was late, and he couldn't call the staff, so he rolled up his sleeves and started cleaning up.
A while later, Quinn heard a faint noise outside and assumed it was Mireille. However, the sound of unsteady footsteps approaching made him concerned. Turning off the faucet, he went to check and was stunned by what he saw.
He asked, "Maeve, what are you doing here?"
Maeve leaned against the wall, her face flushed and barely able to stand. Hearing her name, she blinked in confusion and looked towards the voice. Her vision blurred and doubled, and the more she tried to focus, the dizzier she became.
She shook her head and pointed at Quinn. "Mr. Worthington, stop moving. You're making me dizzy."
Quinn sighed and grabbed her arm, guiding her to the sofa. "How much did you drink?"
Maeve collapsed onto the sofa.
"Not much! Just a tiny bit." She giggled, showing a minuscule amount with her fingers.
Quinn stared at her for a moment and sighed. "At least you can still answer questions. You're not completely out of it."
"I'm not drunk! Not at all!" Maeve suddenly stood up and threw herself into Quinn's arms.
Caught off guard, Quinn staggered back, his muscles tensing. "What are you doing!"
Maeve, startled by his shout, quickly teared up, looking so pitiful that it softened his heart. "Why are you yelling at me? Do you hate me too?"
Quinn was about to respond when Maeve continued, "I knew it. No one in this world likes me. Sometimes I wonder why God is so unfair. Why are some people born into wealth and privilege, while others are destined to suffer?"
Quinn's hand, which was about to push her away, paused.
He thought, 'Yes, why are some people destined to suffer from birth?'
As he pondered, he felt a wetness on his chest. Maeve was crying. Though silent, her shoulders trembled.
Quinn looked down at her, his hand that was meant to push her away now gently resting on her shoulder, patting softly.
He said, "Fate is not unchangeable. If you're strong enough, you can fight it."
This was meant for both Maeve and himself. He intended to comfort her, but his words made her cry harder. Her sobs were soft, full of sorrow and pain.
Like a mistreated animal finally finding a safe haven, she poured out her grievances.
Quinn's heart ached.
Between sobs, Maeve said, "I got fired today. It wasn't my fault. A customer tried to harass me, and I just fought back. Did I do something wrong? Why else would they fire me?"
Quinn frowned.
Maeve, in her daze, didn't realize she was leaning against a man. Quinn, focused on her words, didn't push her away immediately.
Maeve continued, "I thought getting fired was bad enough, but then the hospital called. My mom's condition worsened, and I need to raise the surgery fee within three days. What should I do?"
Quinn's eyes softened. "Which hospital is your mother in?"
But this time, he received no answer. He looked down to find Maeve had fallen asleep. So defenseless?
He sighed and gently picked her up, carrying her upstairs.
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