Chapter 65
Margaret quickly checked on me. “Oh my, Ms. Lambert, I think it’s better if you stop washing. Hurry and wash your hands so you can accompany Mr. Zook to watch the television.”
Then, she winked at me.
Tristan came because of the sound from earlier.
Margaret quickly pushed me toward him. “Mr. Zook, hurry and bring Ms. Lambert out. This rough work isn’t suitable for her.”
When Margaret pushed me, I accidentally fell into his arms. I felt embarrassed. I thought Margaret had shoved me too hard.
Tristan caught me and looked at my wet clothes.
He pulled me out and said, “Go change into something clean.”
I hummed in a dazed manner before I obediently went to change my clothes.
When I was done, Tristan was already sitting on a couch watching the news.
I stood there awkwardly before I moved and sat on a couch not too far from him.
Honestly, Tristan wasn’t cold and distant as expected. On the contrary, he was quite similar to Charles–both gave me a brother figure vibe.
However, I had no idea why I felt that there was a huge gap
I felt like we were on opposite sides of an invisible wall.
between us.
Although he was near, I couldn’t figure him out, let alone understand him.
Just as I was lost in thoughts, Tristan patted the spot next to him. “Come and sit here.”
I was dumbfounded as I stared at him.
Tristan’s glasses reflected the light from the television, and he spoke with a tone that made it difficult for me to reject him. “Why are you sitting so far away? Come and accompany me to
watch television.”
“Okay.” I slowly made my way there and finally sat next to Tristan. I made sure to leave a bit of space between us and thankfully, he didn’t mind.
The television was broadcasting the daily news, both international and domestic. After a few glances, I became intrigued.
After all, I still hadn’t got my memory back, so everything felt new to me.
“I think I know who sent the flowers,” Tristan said calmly. “Just ignore them. They probably
won’t bother you again.”
I hummed in acknowledgment and said, “I actually like flowers. It’s such a shame to throw them away.
Tristan noticed I was focused on the television, and a faint smile appeared on his face. “Your like flowers? Aren’t you allergic to them?”
I shook my head and said, “No, I’m not. I like them very much. Too bad my mom is allergic to pollen, so we can’t grow too many flowers at home.”
If there was one regret when I was the 18–year–old daughter of the Lambert family, it would be the ugly flowers in our garden. They couldn’t hold a candle to anyone else’s garden.
Tristan smiled and asked, “So, what flowers do you like?”
I said, “Roses. I like roses the most, and it’s hard for me to put into words. I also like other flowers that look pretty when they bloom.”
I heard Tristan chuckling. “Do all girls like flowers?”
I returned to my senses and said seriously, “Of course. Every girl likes flowers as long as they aren’t allergic to pollen.”
I felt sorry. “I never thought that the prettiest and most flowers I would ever get in my life were from a creep.”
Tristan choked when he was drinking water.
I asked out of curiosity, “What happened?”
I could see he was struggling to stop himself from smiling.
He adjusted his glasses and said slowly, “It’s nothing. I just think that the guy probably isn’t a creep.”
I was curious, so I said, “How would you know? Someone like that spends so much money and doesn’t even leave a name, he must be a peeping Tom. If he isn’t a creep, what else could he be?
fell as
I suddenly “If he isn’t a creep, then he must be a peeping Tom. Should we report it to the police?”
Tristan said, “No need.”
He had dismissed the topic so nonchalantly.
