Chapter 55: You Hate Being Alone With Me?
Adrian Grant had apparently also thought no one would be home today, so his actions were much more casual.
He currently had just a bath towel wrapped loosely around his lower body, revealing a bare torso with broad shoulders, a narrow waist, and clean, distinct muscle lines.
Their eyes met, and they both froze.
One hadn’t expected anyone to come home tonight.
The other hadn’t expected to walk in on such a scene.
Even though they had lived together for so long, Adrian Grant was actually more private about his body than she was in many ways.
Even on the night they had mistakenly drunk the aphrodisiac wine, she had only managed a quick grope and hadn’t seen a thing.
This was the first time she’d ever gotten a treat like this.
Caroline Whitman’s gaze uncontrollably landed on his upper body first, and stayed there until the man before her spoke softly:
"You’re back?"
"Mhm." Her expression unchanging, she shifted her gaze upward, meeting his eyes. "When did you get back?"
"About half an hour before you."
"Oh. I thought you’d be going back to The Seraphic or Brocade Bay today."
"Everything’s been moved out of Brocade Bay, and The Seraphic is under renovation, so it’s not convenient to go back right now."
Adrian Grant walked over slowly, casually drying his wet hair with a towel. His tone was level, as if he were just explaining offhandedly.
They were barely three steps apart, and Caroline Whitman felt the air around her fill with the light, unique scent of his body wash.
All she could see was his strong, powerful chest.
She grunted in acknowledgment and, with a calm expression, averted her eyes. "I’m going to my room."
「The next day, Caroline Whitman slept in until noon.」
Without their child to bother them, the weekend was a rare moment of peace.
She was even tempted to pick up their son a little later.
But to be on the safe side, she called Frederick Whitman, only to be told that the child was taking a nap and they were planning to take him out to play in the afternoon.
Hearing this, Caroline Whitman lost all motivation to bring her son home.
She thought about the past few weekends, how they had racked their brains to avoid prying eyes and take their son on trips out of town. It was as exhausting as being a secret agent.
It was a rare opportunity to have someone else look after him for the weekend; he would probably have even more fun.
After Caroline Whitman got up and washed, she passed by the study. The door was ajar, leaving a crack through which she could see someone sitting inside.
She calmly averted her gaze. Just as she was about to order takeout, she noticed a meal left for her on the dining table, still warm.
She raised an eyebrow. She didn’t have to guess who had left it.
After she had eaten her fill, she leaned back on the sofa and scrolled through short-form videos.
Before long, Adrian Grant came out of the study. "You’re awake?"
Caroline Whitman grunted in acknowledgment without looking up.
"Are you going to pick up our son today?"
The deep question came from above her.
The sofa cushion next to her dipped slightly as the man sat down.
Caroline Whitman’s heart skipped half a beat. She then felt an inexplicable sense of being enveloped by a powerful, invasive presence and subconsciously straightened her posture.
"No need. My dad said he’s taking him out to play this afternoon. If you’d like a more relaxing weekend, we could also pick him up on Monday."
Caroline Whitman answered honestly.
"Then let’s pick him up on Monday."
Evidently, Adrian Grant also wanted to enjoy a quiet weekend.
Having someone to watch their child on the weekend—and a child who wasn’t begging for his parents to be there—was an incredibly rare luxury.
On this matter, the two of them were in complete and unprecedented agreement.
With their son’s weekend arrangements settled, the living room fell silent.
It was only then that Caroline Whitman belatedly realized there were only the two of them in this space.
Not in a hotel, not in a car, and not at a restaurant.
But in an actual house, with both of them in loungewear.
Without their child present, she was suddenly and inexplicably struck by the feeling of truly "living together."
Realizing this shift in dynamics, Caroline Whitman suddenly became a little self-conscious.
’How strange. Before, I could share a bed with him without feeling awkward, but now I’m getting flustered just sharing a sofa.’
’I’m starting to wonder if there’s something wrong with me.’
’It’s not like I have a phobia of handsome men.’
Caroline Whitman raised a hand to her cheek, pondering for a couple of seconds, but came up with nothing.
She glanced sideways and saw Adrian Grant leaning languidly against the sofa, his long legs crossed. He picked up the remote and turned on the television.
The midday financial news was on.
"..."
’This guy has a hobby like this? At noon?’
Come to think of it, aside from co-parenting their son, they had never just spent a quiet day at home together like this.
Suddenly, Caroline Whitman understood. It had to be because they’d never spent a weekend alone together.
But she couldn’t stand this feeling of being on pins and needles, so she turned to look at the scorching sun outside the window.
The sun was at its peak. It was the hottest time of day; going out now would be asking to get drenched in sweat.
Caroline Whitman decided to get up and go lie down in her room.
"I have to go out a little later. I won’t be back for dinner tonight."
"...?"
Caroline Whitman suppressed the urge to get up. As she turned her head, Adrian Grant added, "Some friends asked me to hang out."
"That’s your personal business, you don’t have to tell me," she said, finding it odd.
Adrian Grant tilted his head, his gaze shifting from the television to her. As Caroline Whitman met his deep eyes, she inexplicably got the impression from his expression that he was thinking, ’I’ve told you, so you have to tell me, too.’
"..."
Caroline Whitman paused for a moment. "Don’t tell me I have to report my plans, too?"
Adrian Grant said, "I don’t consider this personal business. The agreement also states that while we are co-parenting our son, we, as his guardians, are obligated to inform each other of our daily itineraries outside of work."
"..."
’Was that clause really in there?’ The contents of the multi-page agreement flashed through Caroline Whitman’s mind.
As if sensing her doubt, Adrian Grant’s calm voice sounded again. "You can review the agreement again. It’s in the study."
Caroline Whitman gave him a strange look. ’Don’t tell me he was reviewing the agreement’s terms in the study just now.’
She said, "No need."
"Mhm. What are your plans for today?"
"None at the moment." Caroline Whitman hadn’t expected him to press the issue, so she answered honestly.
Hearing this, Adrian Grant nodded and said no more.
Caroline Whitman also got up and went back to her bedroom.
"By the way."
Adrian Grant’s voice suddenly rang out again.
Caroline Whitman paused and turned back to look at him. "What is it?"
"Do you hate being alone with me?"
Adrian Grant’s bafflingly blunt question made Caroline Whitman freeze for a second.
The question was so ambiguous, it was hard not to read into it.
’Do I hate it?’
"As soon as I show up, you leave," Adrian Grant added.
Caroline Whitman’s gaze shifted to the television in front of him. "I just don’t like watching TV."
Adrian Grant smiled. "And here I thought you didn’t dare to be alone with me."
"..."
’We went from "hate" to "don’t dare"? Hey, that’s a pretty quick leap in confidence!’
Caroline Whitman smiled back. "What’s there to not dare about? I just don’t want to."
After saying this, an article from an Official Account that Franklin Whitman had sent her a few days ago flashed through her mind.
An inappropriate question popped into her head: ’Would those methods even work on Adrian Grant?’