CHAPTER 102: CHAPTER 102: FLORENCE LYNCH IS IRIS QUILL’S OLDER SISTER

Declan Hawthorne wanted to say something.

But when he opened his mouth, nothing came out.

Poppy Hale’s tears fell with a soft tap onto Declan Hawthorne’s arm.

She raised her hand to wipe them away.

There were always many issues between them, perhaps ever since that bet, they were a forced fate.

In the end, it only resulted in mutual torment.

"Declan Hawthorne, do you remember how many times you said you didn’t like me?"

Declan Hawthorne’s breath caught.

He heard Poppy speak in a very soft voice, "You said it sixty-two times. And there were many times that Mason Rivers recorded for me."

"When I was pregnant, the morning sickness was severe, plus my parents were ill, I had to travel back home to see my grandmother and prepare for her funeral. I argued with my uncle. Back then, the baby was almost lost. I missed you, wanted to cry in your arms, so I played those recordings."

"Listening to them once calmed me down. Declan Hawthorne, I could become independent so quickly, thanks to you."

Each time she listened, it was like a lingering torture for Poppy Hale.

She even felt like she was self-harming.

But each cut pushed her to quickly struggle out of those emotions.

She couldn’t collapse; she still needed to use her own shoulders to let her father be at ease one last time.

She couldn’t let that little old man, who was about to leave, still worry about her.

With each sentence she spoke, Declan Hawthorne felt a stab in his heart.

The knives that pierced her turned into boomerangs, stabbing deeper into his heart.

The pain was unbearable, leaving him choked with emotion multiple times.

"I’m sorry. I didn’t know... I, I’m sorry to you."

His voice was hoarse, embarrassed, and filled with a tidal wave of bitterness.

A thousand words, all in vain.

It was him avoiding the issues back then, unwilling to admit his feelings, afraid to tell her.

It was him thinking that loving someone was something to be ashamed of.

It was his pride and insecurity, wanting more of her, complete and whole, yet turning into a dark and twisted voyeurism.

He was wrong.

Poppy Hale’s phone rang; it was Florence Lynch calling.

Asking when she would pick her up, she had finished school.

Poppy Hale wiped away her tears and gently said, "Mom will be right there."

"No rush, mom, be careful on the road."

Florence was always like this, wholeheartedly thinking of her.

Maybe when Florence grows up, she’ll have her own life, but Poppy Hale knows she is Florence’s entire world right now.

She also has her whole world, and in it now are her daughter and her mother.

No one else anymore.

-

The car stopped at the kindergarten gate.

Heather Underwood’s car was parked not far in front.

When Poppy Hale got out of the car, Florence was walking out hand in hand with Iris Quill.

Seeing Poppy Hale, Iris Quill ran over quickly, swinging Florence’s hand.

"Aunt Poppy, who’s older between me and Florence? I said I’m her brother, but she insists she’s the sister!"

Heather Underwood exchanged glances between Poppy Hale and Declan Hawthorne.

She always felt like these two seemed emotionally low.

Poppy Hale’s eyes were still red and slightly swollen, as if she had been crying.

Declan Hawthorne looked down at Poppy Hale; his gaze never left her.

But as he watched, the corners of his eyes were a bit wet.

What happened to these two?

Poppy Hale held Florence in her arms and looked at Heather Underwood, "Iris was born in what month?"

"March, a bit older than your Florence. Didn’t Florence say last time she was born in May?"

Poppy Hale lightly shook her head, "Florence is a bit older; she was born at the end of the year, in December."

Florence and Iris Quill are indeed family.

But actually, Florence is the older sister, and Iris Quill is the younger brother.

Florence appeared smaller, about a size smaller than Iris Quill.

You couldn’t tell she was actually a bit older than Iris Quill.

Iris Quill pouted, "What? But I want to be the brother."

He hadn’t been a brother yet.

Heather Underwood stepped forward, lifting Iris Quill by the neck and holding him up.

"You want to be a brother, yet you don’t even act like one."

She looked at Poppy Hale, "We met by chance, how about having dinner together? A new Thai restaurant opened nearby; it’s quite good."

Poppy Hale was about to refuse, but Heather Underwood spoke again, "I invested in it. Just consider it taking care of my business. Declan, you don’t mind paying for a meal, right?"

Declan Hawthorne shook his head.

"Of course."

His gaze fell on Florence in Poppy Hale’s arms.

Seeing Declan Hawthorne, Florence naturally reached out, wanting Declan Hawthorne to hold her.

Kids are simple beings; they like someone, they want them to hold them.

Declan Hawthorne’s eyes carried a hint of hope and supplication as he looked at Poppy Hale.

She nodded gently.

Florence was held in Declan Hawthorne’s arms, his movements careful.

Florence looked at Declan Hawthorne’s face, her small hands cupping it, she softly said, "Uncle Hawthorne, are you going to cry? Did something happen?"

Uncle Hawthorne’s eyes were bright and shiny.

And a bit misty.

At closer inspection, his nose was a bit red, a familiar sign that he was close to tears.

Do adults also have moments when they want to cry?

Declan Hawthorne lifted Florence high, not letting her look into his eyes.

Looking into those clean, clear, flawless eyes made Declan Hawthorne’s heart ache intensely.

"Uncle is fine."

Sitting on Declan Hawthorne’s shoulders, Florence cautiously asked, "Uncle, did you and my mom have a fight?"

Children’s emotions are always sensitive.

They are the first to detect that slightly bitter aura from adults.

"No."

It wasn’t considered a fight.

In the past, Poppy Hale didn’t argue with him, and now it was the same.

Heather Underwood observed closely, feeling something was off.

But these two were adults; after thinking it over, she didn’t say anything.

She pretended not to have seen anything.

At the restaurant, Heather Underwood ordered some dishes and then handed the menu to Poppy Hale.

"See what you like to eat."

Poppy Hale glanced and casually ordered a few bottles of wine.

The menu reached Declan Hawthorne, and a few more bottles of wine were added to the order.

Heather Underwood felt her eyelid twitch.

Although these two ordered the most expensive wines in the restaurant, it seemed a bit too much in taking care of her business.

Heather Underwood changed the subject.

"Iris, did you use the restroom at kindergarten today?"

"No!"

Heather Underwood didn’t believe it at all.

"You said you didn’t use it yesterday, yet why were your pants dirty?"

Iris Quill’s eyes darted around, and said confidently, "The teacher pooped in my pants!"

Heather Underwood: "..."

Although she believed kindergarten teachers varied in quality, she trusted no one would actually do that.

The dishes were served, and the wine arrived.

Declan Hawthorne poured himself a glass and drank it down in one gulp.

Poppy Hale sipped from her glass but didn’t finish it.

Declan Hawthorne took it and drank it all in one go.

The two seemed to be in a contest, pouring and drinking glass after glass.

Soon, the bottles were nearly empty.

Heather Underwood quickly stopped them, halting their increasingly headstrong drinking.

Before either could get drunk, Heather Underwood drove Poppy Hale and her daughter back home.

Declan Hawthorne stood in the parking lot, waving at Heather Underwood.

"I’ll go back on my own."

His home was right next to Poppy Hale’s, although Heather Underwood didn’t know.

After Heather Underwood left, Declan Hawthorne casually strolled to his car parked underground, opened the door, and sat inside.

A car entered the parking lot from a distance.

The headlights flashed by, illuminating Declan Hawthorne’s face.

And the patchy, wet marks on it.