Chapter 383

Ivy frowned, her small face scrunched in frustration.

Well, he had a point.

They were a married couple, after all. If she overreacted every time her husband so much as glanced at her, it would just make her seem overly sensitive.

When she didn’t answer, Jamison realized she was out of comebacks. He reached up and gently pulled her hand away from her eyes.

“You’ve given me a bath before–you’ve seen everything there is to see. Now you’re blushing because I glanced your way? And you’re the one who brought yourself over here,” he teased, his tone light and playful, none of last night’s prickly mood in sight.

Ivy’s cheeks burned scarlet. She yanked her hand back and scooted away from him. “Excuse me? I only came over to grab your phone!”

With that, she tossed the phone onto his lap.

“Answer it if you want. I don’t care.”

Gathering the loose edges of her robe, she slipped off the bed and hustled out of the room.

Jamison, still recovering from his injury, was in no shape to chase after her. Not that it would’ve mattered; in broad daylight, she wasn’t about to let him get away with anything.

He could only take a long, steadying breath and sigh.

The phone stopped ringing, but almost immediately, it started up again.

He had no choice but to answer. “Hello? Hi, Mom… What’s so urgent this early? Yeah… you woke me up, but I’m fine, really… She’s been taking great care of me, you don’t need to worry…. Okay, talk soon. Bye.”

They say mothers and sons never stay mad at each other for long. Yesterday, Adela Ludwig had been so furious with her youngest son that her blood pressure nearly hit the ceiling, yet here she was, calling first thing in the morning to check on him.

The housekeeper from the family estate arrived right on time, bringing with her a generous breakfast spread.

Ivy surveyed the table, spotting at least seven or eight different breakfast dishes, several of them her favorites. She wasted no time sitting down and digging in.

Jamison emerged from the bathroom, freshly showered, and caught sight of her. “Didn’t even bother to call me for breakfast? Eating alone–don’t you feel the least bit guilty?”

“Not at all. Honestly, I was afraid you’d show up early and steal my food,” Ivy replied, not missing a beat.

Jamison just stared at her, at a loss for words. Finally, he sat down and asked, “You like these pastries?”

“They’re all right,” she said with a shrug.

Once upon a time, she’d have turned her nose up at such things. Raised in luxury, she’d never wanted for anything and had long since lost interest in fancy treats.

But after three years of hardship that felt more like hell than life, anything tasted like a delicacy to her now. And the fact that these were brought for Jamison only made them more appealing.

Seeing how content she looked, Jamison smiled indulgently. “All these pastries are made fresh every morning by the estate’s baker. If you like them, I’ll have them delivered for you every day.”

Ivy glanced over, studying him intently.

He looked confused. “What?”

She gave a small laugh and asked, “Last night you were glaring at me, spoiling for a fight. Now you’re all sweetness and light. What gives?”

He smirked. “Come on, we’re married now. If I don’t treat you right, what am I supposed to do? I’ve known you were sharp-tongued and stubborn since before we even tied the knot. If I really couldn’t handle it, I wouldn’t have married you in the first place.”

Jamison said it lightly, then added, “Besides, if I got petty over every little thing, I’d just be making a fool of myself.”

He’d gone in circles, but his meaning was clear–he wasn’t about to stoop to bickering. A grown man didn’t squabble with his wife over trivial things.

Ivy couldn’t help but laugh, her eyes sparkling as she glanced at him and teased, “Well, who knew the famously icy Dr. Ludwig could be so understanding and thoughtful?”

Jamison shot back, “Between the two of us, who’s got the sharper tongue?”

She stuck out her lower lip in mock protest and fell silent.

He grinned, sliding a delicate porcelain bowl toward her as a silent invitation to help herself to the soup.