CHAPTER 64: CHAPTER 64: WE HAVE TO HOLD HANDS

Fortunately, although Iris Quill loves to eat, she’s not picky.

Poppy Hale found a beef hotpot restaurant across from a kindergarten.

The place was quite large and bustling with people, even requiring a wait line at the door.

Seeing Poppy Hale alone with two children, the owner swiftly found her a newly cleared table.

After ordering, the owner brought some fruit for the two children.

While waiting for the food, Poppy Hale sent Declan Hawthorne the restaurant address.

The two children held their picture books and quietly read.

Poppy Hale looked at them and couldn’t help but smile.

She took the opportunity to manage some messages in the background.

After finishing previous illustrations, Poppy Hale still had pending orders to complete.

She picked out a few nearing deadlines, talked with clients about composition and elements, and then the beef in the hotpot was ready.

When Declan Hawthorne arrived, he parked his car outside the restaurant.

The man, dressed in a business suit, seemed out of place amidst the surroundings.

Steam rose from the hotpot, bringing satisfaction and happiness to the diners’ faces.

Declan Hawthorne stood still for a moment.

His gaze searched the hotpot restaurant, looking for where Poppy Hale was seated.

The owner approached, "Sir, how many in your party?"

Declan Hawthorne had already spotted Poppy Hale and walked toward her briskly—perhaps because of the atmosphere, the usually aloof man seemed a bit warmer.

He chuckled lightly, "Someone’s waiting."

"Oh, that table, right? Your wife said not to start eating until you arrived. Shall I serve the remaining dishes now?"

At this form of address, Declan Hawthorne paused briefly.

But he didn’t refute or explain, just nodded, "Alright."

Taking a few steps to the table, Declan Hawthorne undid the button with one hand, took off his priceless suit, and placed it aside.

Upon seeing him, Iris Quill’s eyes lit up.

She looked at the beef in the pot.

"Uncle, you’re finally here! I’m starving! Aunt Poppy insisted we wait for you before eating."

Poppy Hale said this because chubby little Iris Quill was too impatient.

As soon as the meat hit the pot, she wanted to eat.

Poppy Hale ordered mushroom soup, intending to wait a little longer for the mushrooms, so she casually gave a reason Iris could accept.

It wasn’t necessarily because they had to wait for Declan Hawthorne to dine.

But Declan Hawthorne had already looked over, with a hint of a smile at the corner of his eye, "You said to wait for me?"

Poppy Hale served meat and soup to Iris Quill and Florence Lynch.

Florence sweetly said, "Thank you, Mom."

Iris Quill followed suit, "Thank you, Aunt Poppy."

Having served both kids, it wasn’t hard to serve another bowl.

Handing the soup bowl without scallions to Declan Hawthorne, he accepted it directly, seemingly unconcerned about whether it was hot, and remarked with a smile, "Thank you."

Poppy Hale casually responded and sat down to eat.

But Iris Quill wasn’t satisfied.

"Uncle, you’re so rude. Aunt Poppy served you soup, and you just said thank you without addressing her?"

At two years old, a child enters the order phase.

He only knows that the rules in his mind are correct and doesn’t allow anyone to disrupt them.

When saying thank you, it must be accompanied by a form of address, not just saying thank you.

When Declan Hawthorne merely said thank you, Iris Quill was unhappy.

She even started to cry.

Poppy Hale, used to handling kids, calmly said, "So tell me, how should your uncle address me? He can’t also call me Aunt, right?"

Iris Quill wiped her tears, stuffing beef into her mouth as she cried, "Can’t he?"

Poppy Hale: "..."

No, he really can’t.

"Your uncle and I are on equal terms."

"Then he should call you Poppy, like I call Florence Florence."

In kindergarten, he called Florence "Florence," and she called him Iris.

Iris Quill found it fitting this way.

Poppy Hale, helpless, had to reshuffle the soup for Declan Hawthorne.

Declan’s smile broadened.

Words carried an involuntary warmth within his voice.

"Thank you, Poppy."

Perhaps it was the steam rising, but Poppy Hale felt her face heat up.

Iris Quill piped up, "You two have to hold hands for what just happened to be okay."

He took a few bites, louder than before.

If Poppy Hale and Declan Hawthorne didn’t comply, he’d likely shout the roof down.

With determination, Poppy Hale reached out and touched the tips of Declan’s fingers.

But unexpectedly, his palm turned, and their fingers effortlessly interlocked.

When she tried to pull back, Declan Hawthorne held her hand, preventing her from retracting.

Only when Iris Quill said, "That’s good now,"

Did Declan leisurely let go of her hand, but he still held onto her fingertips while with the other, he drew a few napkins to clean the soup that had splashed onto Poppy Hale’s hand.

His actions were meticulous.

Like cleaning a delicate piece of art, wiping away the speck of dust that had accidentally settled.

His palm was dry, and the warmth trickled from the point where their palms met, like an electric current leaping over each fragile nerve ending.

Causing Poppy Hale’s fingers to tingle slightly.

Once he finished, Poppy Hale drew back her hand.

Only to see Florence watching her.

With a sigh, Poppy Hale said, "Thank you, Uncle Iris Quill."

Florence, also in her order phase, seemed unsatisfied.

"Mom, doesn’t Uncle have a name?"

Iris Quill shouted, "Yes! My uncle’s name is really nice! Aunt Poppy, don’t you know my uncle’s name? I’ll tell you!"

For the first time, Poppy Hale realized.

Dining out with two children in this phase.

Is quite torturous for adults.

Seeing the little pout forming on Florence’s lips, Poppy Hale quickly said, "Thank you... Declan."

The last two words were spoken very softly.

Florence and Iris Quill were immediately delighted and began to eat heartily.

The smile on Declan Hawthorne’s face never faded.

"I forgot to pick him up today. Thank you."

Ms. Valerie Barrett accompanied Heather Underwood to the law firm, and Mrs. Hawthorne assumed Declan had picked up Iris Quill, so she didn’t contact him.

Hence the oversight.

Poppy Hale softly said, "Iris Quill is still little; he shouldn’t be overlooked because of this."

"I know, I’ll speak with his mom when we get back."

Poppy Hale looked up sharply, "His mom... having a tough time?"

Declan Hawthorne gently shook his head; both of them tacitly avoided discussing divorce in front of the children.

"They don’t want to agree and are suing my aunt for intentional harm."

"Intentional harm?"

Declan Hawthorne ate a few bites of food before leisurely replying, "My aunt beat his dad; he has two broken ribs."

Poppy Hale’s eyes widened.

Declan Hawthorne’s aunt... truly a heroine among women.

He glanced at her, "My mom has the same temperament—she’s easy to get along with."

Poppy Hale didn’t understand why he shared this with her.

When he mentioned Mrs. Hawthorne, Poppy Hale immediately thought of the arranged meeting over the weekend.

Gazing at Iris Quill, busy eating, Poppy Hale had a thought.

"How about you bring him over the weekend to play with Florence."

"Sure."

Declan readily agreed.

He had a few bites and then set down his utensils.

Watching her take care of the two children.

Two-year-olds don’t eat easily, so Poppy Hale patiently monitored them.

The steam from the pot hovered around, casting a hazy veil over her features.

Declan Hawthorne’s Adam’s apple bobbed.

The entire hotpot restaurant was imbued with a vitality of life he had never experienced, allowing him to savor that rich atmosphere.

It was a happiness that hadn’t belonged to him.

If... everything before him were his.

The children, the wife, the essence of life—all his.

It wouldn’t be so bad.