Chapter 566 A Warmth in Their Relationship
On this day of leisure, Patricia and James chose to attire themselves in casual wear. Patricia donned a white T-shirt, black loose-fitting sweatpants, and breathable mesh sneakers. Her long hair was swept up into a high bun, lending her an air of effortless athleticism. Her face, bare save for a sheer layer of SPF moisturizer, glowed with natural beauty.
Suddenly, the trendy mother was replaced by a vibrant college girl.
James, on the other hand, opted for an even simpler ensemble. Clad in white casual wear and sneakers, his short, carefree hair and pristine, clean-cut look were as untouched as a pearl. His impressively long legs, particularly noticeable in this attire, gave the impression of a high schooler fresh off the basketball court.
Upon seeing him, Patricia found herself unable to look away.
In this outfit, James shed the distant aura that usually clung to him, replacing it with an approachable charm. He reminded Patricia of Martin, who preferred lounging around the house in comfortable clothes, exuding an easygoing and relaxed vibe.
Memories of their past interactions flooded Patricia's mind like a surging tide. She nearly blurted out Martin's name, but caught herself at the last moment. Biting her lip, she managed a smile and said, "Uh, you... You look pretty good in that outfit. Yeah, it's really good."
James didn't hide his appreciation for Patricia either, replying, "Thanks! You're looking great today, too."
Patricia chuckled dryly, blinking back the tears that threatened to spill from her eyes. She grabbed her bag and turned towards the door, announcing, "It's getting late; let's go!"
"Ok!" James responded softly, casually slipping his hands into his pockets and following her at a leisurely pace.
Luck was on their side that day. The temperature, which usually soared to 95 degrees, was a mild 86—neither too hot nor too cold, perfect for a day out. As it was a weekday, there were few people around.
Their day began with an outdoor breakfast, followed by the purchase of two white sun hats from a street-side accessory store. Their first destination was the Metropolitan Museum of Art.
Under normal circumstances, Patricia would have passed such museums without a second glance. However, today, in James's company, her excitement was palpable. James, too, was in high spirits. Aside from the occasional cough, he showed no signs of breathlessness or lack of stamina.
After a morning at the Met, they found a place for lunch and then visited the Museum of the Moving Image in the afternoon. They chose not to rush back to the hotel after dinner, instead opting to stroll through the bustling streets.
Their interaction was relaxed, filled with laughter and chatter. It was as if the chasm that had existed between them for so long had evaporated into thin air. Patricia led James into an accessory shop, where she spotted a witch mask on a shelf. She quickly donned it, turning to James with a smile.
"How does it look? Pretty?" she asked.
The mask only revealed her mouth, and when paired with Patricia's lusciously red lips, it exuded a strangely attractive charm.
James swallowed with difficulty, struggling to maintain his composure before responding in a measured tone, "It's not exactly flattering, but it suits you."
Patricia's brow furrowed in confusion. "What an odd thing to say..."
The shop assistant, standing nearby, shared Patricia's bewilderment, uncertain of how to respond to the situation.
James fought to suppress his laughter, half-closing his right hand and raising it to his lips in a guise of a light cough.
Patricia, seemingly unfazed, selected a Spiderman mask for him to try on.
"Ha-ha, not bad! I noticed a photo booth in the hallway outside. Let's capture this moment with these masks on as a keepsake."
Without waiting for James's agreement, she quickly paid for the masks and tugged him towards the photo booth, choosing a few trendy backgrounds.
Patricia puckered her lips for the camera, cradled her chin in her hands, and struck a playful, smiling pose.
James stood rigidly beside her, regarding her antics with an expression that bordered on disbelief.
When he remained motionless, Patricia prodded him, "Come on, pout your lips!"
James's gaze remained fixed on the camera.
Patricia, a hint of frustration creeping into her voice, suggested, "Since you're wearing the mask, why don't you take it off? Otherwise, who'll be able to tell that you're in the booth with me? Any random guy could take your place."
James continued to stare blankly.
Seeing that he wouldn't budge, Patricia took the initiative and reached out to remove his mask.
"I'll do it," James interjected, stepping back to avoid her touch. He then turned away and removed the mask himself.
When he faced the camera again, Patricia was taken aback.
Like the witch mask, the Spiderman mask also left only the eyes and mouth exposed.
That was precisely why Patricia was so stunned when James removed his mask – the resemblance was uncanny.
James's lips were the mirror image of Martin's.
Martin's lips, which she had kissed countless times and traced with her fingers every morning upon waking, were imprinted in her memory. Even after decades, she would never forget them.
The mannerisms, height, build, aura, and even lips were exactly like Martin's.
Could there really be so many coincidences?
Patricia found herself reaching out, yearning to touch his lips.
She wanted to confirm if the touch matched the appearance.
They were icy cold and incredibly soft.
Just as her fingertips were about to graze James's lips, a mere centimeter away, he evaded them.
"What are you doing?" James questioned, his expression unreadable.
His frosty tone jolted Patricia back to reality. She withdrew her hand in a huff, her eyes slightly misty as she murmured an apology, "I'm sorry..."
James looked at her, puzzled.
"You and he... you look so much alike. Every time I see you, he comes to mind, and I just mistook you for him again. I know you don't like being mistaken for him. I'm sorry!"
James felt a sudden constriction in his chest, emotions threatening to spill from his eyes as his blood surged to his head, nearly causing him to lose control and draw her into his arms.
Patricia had become accustomed to this emotional rollercoaster— oscillating from disappointment to hope and back to disappointment.
She inhaled deeply, swiftly regained her composure, forced a smile onto her face, and suggested, "Let's drop it, shall we? If we keep going, you'll get mad! Let's go take some photo booth pictures instead!"
The calmer she appeared, the more James's heart ached for her. Guilt and pain swelled within him like a volcano on the brink of eruption.
"Come on, play along. Pout your lips and prop your chin with both hands like you're posing as a flower."
James had always found such behavior somewhat ludicrous.
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