Chapter 328

Jonathan couldn't help but reflect on his suspicious nature. Michael was simply outgoing. Snapping out of his thoughts, Jonathan turned to Teresa and said, "Next time, show off a bit. I want to try your cooking."

Teresa laughed. "Oh, I wouldn't dare. My skills can't compare to yours, Chef Lynn."

"That's right, I can vouch for that," Michael chimed in. "Mr. Lime's food is the best. Mr. Lime, when are you going to cook for us again?"

Jonathan's gaze landed on Teresa. "Ask this lovely lady. It's up to her when I get to cook again."

"I still need to grab some soy sauce and olive oil," Teresa said, already walking ahead.

Before long, they had piled the cart high with groceries, most of them picked out by Michael. Usually, when shopping with Teresa, Michael barely took so much, partly because he didn't want her to overspend, and partly because he knew she couldn't carry it all herself. But today, with Jonathan there, Michael went all out, as if he'd won a buffet pass. He wanted this, that, and everything in between.

"Mr. Lime rules!" Michael cheered, both arms raised high, loaded with goodies.

As Teresa unloaded the cart at the checkout, the cashier scanned each item and smiled. "You three look like such a happy family."

Teresa's hand froze mid-motion, her head lowered to hide her swirling emotions—something Jonathan didn't catch.

Jonathan pulled out his phone to pay, but the cashier smiled. "Hey handsome, want to sign up for a membership card? You'll earn points for future purchases, redeem them for gifts, and some items are even discounted for members."

Jonathan didn't want to give out his personal number, so he glanced at Teresa. "Just use my wife's number."

Teresa understood and gave hers. "I'll pay for this."

"No need," Jonathan said, turning to the cashier. "How much is it?"

"It's 2267 dollars. Would you like a shopping bag? They're fifty cents each," the cashier replied.

Jonathan nodded. "I'll pay."

But Teresa had already pulled up her payment code, beating him to it. "Let me pay."

The sound of a toy hammer echoed as Michael banged away with his new toy, then declared with a final whack, "I've decided. Mr. Lime will pay. He and I are best buddies."

Teresa was speechless.

The cashier laughed. "You two really split things down to the last detail. Isn't it all the same who pays in a family?"

As more people lined up, Teresa zoned out for a few seconds, and Jonathan had already paid.

"All you need to do is hold Mike's hand," Jonathan said, grabbing all the shopping bags himself.

"Let me take a couple of the smaller ones," Teresa said, worried he might get tired.

Jonathan shook his head. "No need." He loaded everything into his car. "I'll drop these off at your place. Is Mike staying with you?"

"Yeah, my friend hasn't come back from Harrisburg yet, so he's with me for now," Teresa replied.

Jonathan raised an eyebrow. "Does she not have any other friends besides you?" He couldn't help but wonder why Teresa always ended up looking after Michael.

Teresa stared at his face, hesitated as if she wanted to say something, then lowered her head and stayed quiet. She turned to call Michael over to the car.

Michael, quite proactive, climbed right into Jonathan's car. "I want to ride in Mr. Lime's car!"

Teresa was speechless.

Once Michael was in the car, he refused to get out. Jonathan told Teresa not to argue and started the engine. Since Teresa had driven herself, she ended up driving home alone.

By the time they got back, Michael was fast asleep in the car. Teresa carried him inside.

Jonathan opened the trunk and started unloading the bags—first the fruit he'd bought for Teresa, then all kinds of meat.

After putting Michael in his room, Teresa came back out to find the living room piled high with bags of all sizes, like it was New Year's.

"I'll wash the ribs and get them stewing for you. That way, when you wake up tomorrow, you just need to turn on the stove and heat it up. It'll be ready to eat."

Jonathan was a pro at making soup; Teresa knew that. As much as she craved his cooking, she held back. "No need, I can do it myself. Isn't it just adding some water? I can handle that."

Jonathan chuckled. "Just add water, huh? And here I thought you were some kind of chef. So, making rib soup is just about dumping in water?"

"Isn't it?" she replied, a little sheepish. She'd never made rib soup before. Usually, she just cooked porridge or simple things like stir-fried tomatoes.

"If cooking were that easy, even a three-year-old could do it." Jonathan had already walked into the kitchen, shrugged off his jacket, and opened the fridge. Inside were just some tomatoes, eggs, and potatoes—basic stuff.

Now Jonathan understood what Teresa meant by "knowing how to cook." Even making a simple sautéed vegetable was a stretch for her. "What's this?" he asked, pulling out a small pack of baby pasta from the fridge.

Teresa's eyes flickered, and she licked her lips. "Michael likes pasta, so I learned how to make it for him."

Jonathan put the pasta back. "So you learned to cook for Mike?"

Teresa didn't argue, just braced herself and said, "I'm fine with takeout or eating out, but he's just a kid. I can't let him eat restaurant food every day."

Jonathan went quiet, closed the fridge, and said softly, "If we ever have a kid, I think you'd make a great mom." With that, he turned and started stewing the ribs.

Teresa's shoulders trembled slightly at Jonathan's words. She realized her hair clip had slipped and fallen to the floor. She bent down to pick it up, but Jonathan reached out and grabbed it first.

"Thanks," Teresa said, taking the clip back.

Jonathan pressed his lips together, his eyes fixed on her hair. His throat tightened. "Let me do it." He opened the clip, gently gathered her hair, and pinned it back. In that moment, it was as if she was quietly nestled in his arms.

He thought back to the last couple of nights. It seemed like sweet words only slipped out when they were both completely lost in each other, refusing to let the moment pass. Jonathan wrapped an arm around her waist and kissed her.

Sat, 24 May