Whispers Turn

Chapter 442

Gilbert felt a tickle in his throat and nodded, “Hmmm.”

“Take another bite of this spaghetti.”

She lifted the fork to his lips again, “I added an extra egg to the dough. Open up…”

Gilbert, quite embarrassingly, opened his mouth.

“Tehe,” Sherilyn’s laughter deepened, her eyes sparkling, “Tasty?”

“Mhm.” Gilbert nodded, the texture was perfect–both firm and chewy. Delicious indeed.

He was curious, though. Had she really made this pasta herself? “How did you learn this?” Back in the day, at the Johnson family estate, she was the picture of refined luxury, her hands never soiled by work.

Sherilyn thought to herself that necessity had been the mother of invention during her years at Crestwood.

Yet, she smiled. “I learned a bit from my grandma when I was a girl.”

Gilbert praised, “Your grandma must have been quite something, raising you and teaching you all these skills.”

Taking the fork from her hand, he gestured towards her plate, “I’ll manage this. You should eat too before it gets cold.”

“Alright.”

For a moment, they ate in silence, each with their own thoughts.

Gilbert ate quickly, yet his manners remained impeccable. The large bowl of spaghetti was soon empty.

“Finished?” Sherilyn looked up.

“Yeah.” Gilbert nodded, wiping his mouth with a napkin before leaning back in his chair.

Sherilyn frowned, “Did you have enough?”

But that was all she had made.

“Maybe I could whip up something else…” She put down her fork, ready to stand.

“Sit down.” Gilbert grabbed her wrist, “I’m fine, really. Keep eating.”

“Oh…”

Sherilyn reluctantly sat back down, continuing with her spaghetti, occasionally sipping from her spoon.

15:07

Chapter 442

She could feel the gaze of the man across from her.

The atmosphere began to turn awkward.

She hadn’t left when he asked, had shamelessly stayed, even made him spaghetti to win him over.

Now, with the spaghetti gone, they were back to square one…

Would he ask her to leave again? And if he did, what would she do?

“Sherilyn.”

“Huh?“Caught off guard, Sherilyn looked up, nervously smiling. “Heh… I’m not done yet.”

Really?

Gilbert glanced at her nearly empty plate.

Clearly, she was avoiding the inevitable. What was she thinking?

He looked out the window, his fingers rhythmically tapping on the table, “It’s getting late…” His voice trailed off.

Sherilyn’s heart raced. Was he hinting for her to leave?

She abruptly stood up, began clearing the dishes as though she hadn’t caught his drift, “Yes, it’s late. You should go wash up and head to bed.”

Gilbert stayed seated, watching her clear the table and head to the kitchen.

He followed her in.

There, Sherilyn was loading the dishwasher and looking for detergent pods.

“Stop fussing.”

Gilbert’s sigh was barely audible as he took hold of her wrist, his brows knitted together, “Do you even realize what you’re doing?”

“Hm?” Sherilyn looked surprised, “Washing dishes.”

“You know what I mean…” Gilbert’s gaze deepened. “You know what I’m implying.”

Taking a deep breath, he repeated, “Do you understand what you’re doing? Huh?”

Sherilyn bit her lip, nodding slightly.

Gilbert’s eyes narrowed, and he pulled her closer, his other hand gently lifting her chin.

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