Chapter 85 Drunk
At 10 PM, Gregory still wasn't home.
After her bath, Abigail lay in bed, tossing and turning, unable to sleep.
Frustrated, she got up and called Gregory.
It was her tenth call to him that night, and he hadn't answered any.
Hearing the busy tone, Abigail started to overthink.
Was Gregory still mad about what happened earlier?
She hadn't meant to upset him.
She had felt confused and didn't know how to face him.
So when he approached, she instinctively dodged.
Seeing Gregory's confused gaze, she immediately regretted it.
Regardless of his feelings, she was still his wife legally.
She should've asked him directly.
'If he likes someone, he should just tell me. But if he doesn't, what should I do?'She didn't dare to think about it too much.
She closed her eyes and lay in bed, feeling hopeless.
After some time, she heard a car pull up outside.
Though faint, Abigail heard it clearly.
She jumped out of bed, ran to the window, and saw Gregory's car pulling into the courtyard.
Overjoyed, she ran downstairs without even putting on shoes.
The soft carpet in the room and hallway went unnoticed in her rush.
She reached downstairs as footsteps approached the door.
Gregory staggered in, supported by Henry and Quinn.
Gregory's once neat suit was now disheveled. His tie was loose, and the top two buttons of his shirt were undone, showing his collarbone. His handsome face was flushed with drunkenness, and his usually cold eyes were hazy.
As Abigail approached, Gregory broke free from Henry and Quinn and lunged at her.
She instinctively opened her arms and caught him, but his weight made her stumble back several steps.
"Mr. White, you've been drinking? How much?" she asked.
Henry quickly said, "Abigail, Gregory's in a bad mood and drank too much. We've brought him back, so please take care of him. We'll be off now."
He pulled Quinn and turned to leave.
"Wait," Abigail called out, worried. "Did he say why he was upset?"
Henry smiled and shook his head. "We don't know. Maybe you should ask him."
Gregory leaned heavily against Abigail, his chin on her shoulder.
His arms were like iron, tightly holding her waist.
Abigail's cheeks flushed, and she couldn't break free.
She supported Gregory and thanked the two. "Thanks for bringing him back."
Henry's smile deepened, and he waved. "You're welcome, Abigail. It's our duty. We'll leave now and not disturb you."
After they left, Abigail asked Gregory, "Mr. White, can you let go of me?"
"No!" Gregory shook his head and held her tighter.
She was almost suffocating in Gregory's broad chest.
"Mr. White, I can hardly breathe. Can you loosen up a bit?" Abigail pleaded.
Gregory loosened his grip slightly but still held her tight.
If it weren't for the strong smell of alcohol, she might've thought he was faking it.
"Can we at least sit on the couch? I'm getting tired of standing," she suggested.
Gregory finally lifted his face from her shoulder and noticed she was barefoot on the cold floor.
His eyes lingered on her delicate feet, and then he bent down to pick her up.
As he lifted her, Abigail gasped and wrapped her arms around his neck.
He gently placed her on the couch, and she sighed in relief.
But before she could relax, Gregory leaned in again, holding her tightly.
She sighed, looking at him sniffing her shoulder. "Mr. White, why did you drink so much? Was it because of me?"
Gregory stiffened slightly, pressing his lips together without answering.
Just when she thought he wouldn't respond, he let go and walked toward the door.
Confused, Abigail was about to follow when he returned with a bouquet of red roses.
"Mr. White, are these for me?" she asked, blinking in confusion.
Gregory nodded. "For you."
Her fingertips trembled, eyes full of disbelief. It was the first time someone had given her flowers, and they were roses.
"Mr. White, why are you giving me flowers?" she asked, surprised.
"To apologize," Gregory said.
Abigail looked at him, puzzled.
Though drunk, Gregory was still rational. "Abigail, I have many flaws. If I make you unhappy, tell me. If it's my fault, I'll change."
Stunned, she asked, "Mr. White, are you apologizing to me?"
Gregory nodded.
She laughed softly. "Why apologize?"
Gregory frowned, then shook his head. "I don't know, but if I make my wife unhappy, it's my fault."
Abigail didn't know what to say. There was no right or wrong; she was just cautious because of past experiences.
She hadn't expected him to misunderstand.
Feeling both helpless and amused, she took the flowers, her eyes moistening. "Mr. White, thank you for the flowers, but you didn't do anything wrong, and I'm not mad at you."
Gregory moved closer, stubbornly looking at her. "But you cried."
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