<b>Chapter </b><b>54</b>
+5N?vel(D)rama.Org''s content.
<b>As </b><b>usual</b>, <b>Valerie </b>bought <b>breakfast </b>and <b>set </b><b>it </b>out on the table.
It <b>was </b>still a <b>breakfast </b><b>wrap </b><b>for </b>Matthew<b>, </b>but <b>today’s </b>filling was different, with double <byers </b>of crispy. Remembering that he seemed to enjoy the <b>m </b>chowder <b>from </b><b>yesterday</b><b>, </b>she bought him some today.
The <b>crispy </b><b>texture </b>wrapped in the aroma of oil, Matthew furrowed his brow slightly, but at this moment, with a spoonful of m chowder, the light <b>soup </b>infused with the fragrance <b>of </b>scallions, it <b>was </b>just right <b>as </b>it entered the mouth. Combining the <b>two</b>, neither salty nor <b>greasy</b>, was quiteforting for the stomach.
As <b>Matthew </b>took <b>a </b>couple of bites, Valerie opened her <b>bag </b>and took out <b>two </b>waffles.
Matthew couldn’t help but <b>ask</b>, <b>“</b>Aren’t you having an egg’wich today?”
Valerie looked puzzled. “I just moved <b>here </b>a few <b>days </b><b>ago </b>and didn’t know the area well, <b>so </b><b>I’ve </b>been buying egg’wiches for convenience. Why are <b>you </b>asking, Mr. Grant? <b>Do </b>you want an egg’wich?”
“No.” Matthew immediately denied it. He naturally wouldn’t admit that he wanted to try one. When she invited him to try it before, he refused decisively. If he brought it up now, it would be quite embarrassing.
Valerie, however, became serious. Previously unfamiliar with him, she interpreted his slightly darkened expression <b>as </b><b>a </b>sign of intense anger and would m up whenever he had that <b>face</b>. Now that they were somewhat acquainted, she understood that his dark <b>expression </b>was merely habitual, and in all this time, he had never truly been angry with her.
So she got the urge to rmend egg’wiches. She chuckled and leaned in, persuading, “Mr. Grant, <b>if </b>you keep eating the same thing, you’ll <b>get </b>tired of it soon. And for the <b>sake </b>of your health, try other foods too. Egg’wiches are seriously delicious. How about forgetting the breakfast wrap tomorrow? I’ll bring you an egg’wich, yeah?”
Well, she brought it up first! Since she’s pleading with me so fervently, I guess I’ll have to give her a chance<b>. </b>Matthew maintained a poker <b>face</b>, <b>slowly </b>swallowing his food before saying, “Alright.”
Knowing she’d persuaded him, Valerie was a bit happy. “The waffles today were good, too. So, <b>I’ll </b>bring you an egg’wich and a waffle tomorrow, okay?<b>”</b>
“Sure<b>,</b>” replied Matthew<b>, </b>wondering, ‘Given how much she enjoyed the waffle earlier, they must <b>taste </b>pretty darn good!
He couldn’t vouch for much else, but Matthew had grown quite trusting of Valerie’s knack for sniffing out delicious grub. She could always find the <b>good </b>stuff<b>–</b><b>except </b>fortte.
After breakfast, they headed
Ownstairs and made their way to the parking lot, where the Mini awaited.
Matthew took the wheel. Even with the seat
I pushed all the
way back, the driver’s <b>space </b><b>was </b>a bit cramped for his long <b>legs</b><b>. </b>But after a few <b>days </b>of getting used to it, he had adapted somewhat and managed to keep it under <b>wraps</b>.
<b>Matthew </b>thought it through. Since Valerie had already met Charles and believed that Charles <b>was </b>his boss, he might <b>as </b><b>well </b>switch to a spacious SUV. He could have <b>Charles </b>“gift” it to him under the guise of a performance <b>reward</b>, so he wouldn’t have <b>to </b>endure this junky <b>car </b>anymore.
<b>“</b><b>Where </b><b>are </b>we going <b>now</b><b>?</b>” he asked.
<b>Valerie </b>remembered Matthew mentioning that he had <b>ordered </b>some seafood and gift <b>boxes</b>. <b>After </b>finding out what kind <b>of </b>seafood it <b>was</b>, Valerie took him straight <b>to </b>the market’s kitchenware section.
Their home <b>was </b><b>pretty </b><b>bare </b>right now<b>, </b>with <b>just </b>an induction cooker and <b>a </b>frying pan she boughtst night. <b>They </b>still needed a lot of stuff.
While Valerie <b>was </b>rummaging <b>around</b>, the <b>sales </b>assistant couldn’t <b>help </b>but nce <b>over </b>at Matthew.
A man <b>with </b><b>such </b><b>aura </b>was a <b>rare </b>sight in a home <b>market</b>, and the <b>sales </b>assistant’s <b>eyes </b>lit up <b>as </b>sheunched into a <b>sales </b>pitch.
Matthew’s <b>expression </b>was somewhat unpleasant; he hated noisy people. But the <b>sales </b><b>assistant </b>wasn’t about to let him <b>go </b><b>easily</b>. She’d seen her share of <b>grumpy </b><b>customers</b><b>, </b>and <b>at </b><b>least </b>this man <b>was </b>the <b>best</b>–looking among them.
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