Chapter 108: You Can Wake Me Up
Caroline Whitman woke up at dawn. She stared, dazed, at the room that was both familiar and not.
She even wondered when they had brought their child back, otherwise why would she be in their house at Golden Crest Manor?
It was only when she climbed out of bed that she remembered. Adrian Grant had asked her out to dinner last night, and she’d ended up falling asleep in his car?
’Damn it! Drinking always leads to trouble.’
In truth, that one sip of wine wasn’t nearly enough to make her pass out completely.
But she had been sitting in Adrian Grant’s noiseless car. He rarely spoke while driving, and it was nighttime. With all those buffs stacked, it was easy to get drowsy.
Caroline Whitman ruffled her hair, got up, and went into the bathroom for a shower. When she came out, she immediately saw a tall, upright figure standing in the kitchen.
It was Adrian Grant.
Just then, he turned, and their eyes met.
"You’re awake?" he asked.
Caroline Whitman nodded calmly. "Yeah."
She pulled out a chair and sat down, watching him ladle millet porridge for her. "I must have fallen asleep in your car last night. Why didn’t you just take me upstairs?"
Adrian Grant: "There’s a security door. I don’t know the code."
Caroline Whitman stirred the porridge in her bowl with a spoon, then looked up at him strangely. "You could have woken me up."
"I tried. You didn’t wake up. My only option was to bring you here. I figured you wouldn’t want to wake up at The Seraphic."
"..."
What else could Caroline Whitman say? He’d already said it all.
’Bringing me to Golden Crest Manor really was the right call.’
After all, this was their "communal" home. Taking her back to The Seraphic would have carried a completely different meaning.
It would have been inappropriate, and there was no reason for it.
She ate her breakfast in silence, her mind racing as she tried to figure out how to spend the day with him.
The bold move she’d made in the heat of the moment last night had cooled down after a night’s sleep.
No wonder most major decisions are made at night. In the bright light of day, under the clear sky and brilliant sun, she’d never be able to pull off such a sleazy, harassing move.
At the thought, a guilty Caroline Whitman ducked her head even lower.
She wracked her brain, trying to think of something she could do with Adrian Grant later.
It was hard to find an opening when they were already under the same roof.
The only things she could come up with were the dating tips she’d looked up online—things like drinking bubble tea or playing games to build affection.
However, none of that would work on Adrian Grant.
Based on her observations these past few days, although the man had a sweet tooth, she’d never seen him touch things like bubble tea or desserts.
As for games, she’d never seen him glued to his phone, lost in one.
Just as she was pondering this, Adrian Grant rose from the dining table.
She subtly quickened the pace of her own breakfast.
After she finished, Caroline Whitman asked casually:
"Are you heading back to the old family house later?"
"No, I have to go to the office and put in some overtime."
Only then did Caroline Whitman notice that Adrian Grant wasn’t in pajamas, but in formal attire, ready to go out.
"Oh."
As he was leaving, Caroline Whitman couldn’t help but ask, "Are you coming back tonight?"
Adrian Grant had already changed his shoes. He turned back to meet her clear, dark eyes.
"I’ll be back."
He paused. "Are you going back to Azure Heights today?"
Caroline Whitman feigned nonchalance. "It’s too much trouble to run back and forth."
Adrian Grant nodded, said, "Alright," and walked out the door.
Staring at the closed door, Caroline Whitman was momentarily stumped by that "Alright."
’What does "Alright" mean?’
’Talking with Adrian Grant these days feels like I’m back in school doing reading comprehension for an exam.’
She went back to the sofa, sat down, and scrolled through some advice threads online. Suddenly, a belated suspicion crept in about Adrian Grant’s explanation that he didn’t know the security code for her building’s entrance.
’Wait a minute!’
’He doesn’t know the code, but wouldn’t Ryan Grant know it?’
’Otherwise, how did Adrian Grant bring the child straight upstairs to knock on her door back then?’
Caroline Whitman didn’t think Adrian Grant’s memory was so poor that he’d forget the security code to her building.
’So, did he do it on purpose, or did he say that deliberately?’
As she was lost in thought, the doorbell rang, interrupting her.
Caroline Whitman got up to open the door. A delivery driver was holding a bouquet of flowers.
"Hello, your delivery."
She froze for a second, then took them and asked, "Who are they from?"
"I don’t know, I just deliver what the order says."
Once the flowers were in Caroline Whitman’s hands, the young delivery guy turned and went downstairs.
She walked inside, holding the large bouquet of roses, took out her phone, found the pinned contact at the top, and typed out a line:
[You sent the flowers?]
Adrian Grant was probably driving; it was a moment before he sent a short, one-word reply: "Yeah."
Caroline Whitman typed another line, hesitated for a bit, then sent it:
[Are they for me, or for me to arrange in a vase?]
[Image] [Image]
She also sent two pictures of the rose bouquet.
The other end was silent for a few minutes before two replies came in: [They’re for you.]
[For you to arrange.]
Caroline Whitman: [...]
She turned around and forwarded the pictures to Franklin Whitman.
At that moment, Franklin Whitman was in his car on the way to Jonathan Grant’s place. DING! His phone chimed. He took it out and saw that his daughter had, for once, sent him a message.
And it was two pictures of roses.
Franklin Whitman tapped the screen with his surprisingly nimble, chubby thumb: [Are these flowers you’re sending to Adrian Grant? Isn’t that a little too obvious?]
Caroline Whitman: [No, Adrian Grant sent them to me, specifically for arranging. What do you think he means by this?]
Franklin Whitman: [Not bad, kiddo. I used the same trick when I was courting your mom. It’s a way to give a gift without scaring the other person off. I’d say he’s interested.]
Caroline Whitman: [...]
’She never knew Franklin Whitman had a past like that.’
’She does something, and Adrian Grant does the same?’
’What a bizarre... way of thinking.’
Caroline Whitman: [By the way, are you on your way to pick up Ryan?]
Franklin Whitman: [Yep. The little guy said he missed me and asked me to come get him. You know, this kid’s parents are really something else. I asked Ryan, ’Did your parents say it’s okay?’ and he said yes.]
Franklin Whitman: [I’m thinking, no matter how busy his parents are, they can’t be *that* busy, right?]
Franklin Whitman: [I asked him for his parents’ phone numbers, but the little guy wouldn’t give them to me. So mysterious.]
Caroline Whitman selectively ignored that message.
Franklin Whitman sat in the car and waited for a long time, but Caroline Whitman didn’t reply with a single word.
’Jeez, the moment Ryan’s parents come up, she just vanishes.’
The car stopped. The driver said, "President Whitman, we’ve arrived."
Hearing this, Franklin Whitman put away his phone, got out of the car, and saw the little guy as soon as he walked in. He was already waiting in the living room, dressed neatly with a small backpack on.
When he saw him, Ryan Grant’s eyes lit up and he called out, "Grandpa."
"Hey, you little tyke, were you waiting just for me?" Franklin Whitman chuckled, patting his head.
Zoe Grant had just woken up and was coming downstairs, yawning. Hearing the little rascal shout "Grandpa" made her eyes fly wide open.
’Grandpa?’
Her gaze followed the sound, and she saw Franklin Whitman dressed in his typical nouveau riche, tycoon-like fashion.
"You’re here, Mr. Whitman." Jonathan Grant was already sitting in the living room and greeted Franklin Whitman as he came in.
Franklin Whitman chuckled and explained, "Yeah. The kid said last night he wanted me to pick him up and have him over for a few days."