CHAPTER 16: CHAPTER 16: MY WIFE WILL ALWAYS BE MY TOP PRIORITY

The girls didn’t bother to lower their voices, making Holly Crowe’s ears inexplicably red with embarrassment, yet Blake Sinclair remained composed as if nothing was amiss.

Holly was about to tell Shirley Sinclair that she might as well wait outside, but Shirley had already dragged her to the display case, "Crowe, this one, that one, they’re all delicious!"

Sinclair was evidently a pro at ordering, tilting her head up with an obedient look, "Hello, I’d like one Cannelé, one Strawberry Mille-feuille, and a Macaron."

A moment later, she twisted her apron, "Make that two Macarons, please, and have one packed to go."

Sinclair seemed a bit embarrassed and whispered, "Mom loves them too."

Holly couldn’t help but smile. No matter how much the little girl pouted, she still had her mom in her heart.

After finishing her order, Shirley looked up at Holly, waving her little hand grandly, imitating a financial tycoon.

"Crowe, order whatever you like! I’ll have Uncle pay the bill!"

Holly felt uneasy.

Blake Sinclair stood just slightly behind her. She actually wanted to refuse but was dissuaded when Blake said, "Thanks to Miss Crowe for today."

If she refused, wouldn’t it seem like she wanted The Sinclair Family to owe her a favor? They might even think she had ulterior motives today.

She nodded and glanced at the display case.

The array of desserts was a dazzling sight.

She hadn’t had sweets in ages.

Initially, it was because Zion Pence had a bad stomach, so she intentionally reduced her dessert intake. Later, when she was caught by Zion eating a Basque cheesecake from a colleague and called childish, she never had sweets again.

Yet in Zion’s memory, it had turned into her disliking sweets.

Memories can always leave a sour taste.

The store clerk noticed her hesitation in front of the display case and enthusiastically recommended some new products.

"I’ll take this," Holly chose a Basque cheesecake.

After she ordered, Shirley began urging Blake, "Uncle, hurry and pay!"

A faint cedar scent wafted from behind, and Blake leaned forward slightly, nearly wrapping her in his arms.

He took out his phone to scan the code.

Holly froze instantly, holding her breath.

She could distinctly feel the breath on the back of her neck, even the rise and fall of Blake’s chest through the air as he breathed.

"All done." He put his phone away.

"Crowe, let’s go find a seat. Uncle will bring it over," Shirley held her hand and led her to the seating area.

As she turned, the back of her hand inadvertently brushed against the sleeve of the person behind her.

It was a gentle touch, like a feather gliding over a lake’s surface.

In an unseen place, ripples softly spread out.

Shirley led her to the second floor, found a spot by the window, sat down, and swung her legs while playing with napkins, muttering, "Uncle is always the slowest."

The desserts soon arrived.

The caramel coating on the Cannelé exuded a sweet aroma. Shirley couldn’t wait to take a bite, then dug a big spoonful of the Strawberry Mille-feuille, her eyes narrowing into crescents with satisfaction and happiness.

Having the long-awaited desserts, she even began to hum a tune, oblivious to the cream smeared on her nose.

Holly chuckled, taking a tissue to wipe off the cream, "Why is Shirley so happy? Don’t you get them every Friday?"

Sinclair puffed her cheeks, speaking muffled, "No, Crowe. Mom said if Shirley misbehaves, there’s no dessert. Last Friday I accidentally broke mom’s lipstick, and I thought I wouldn’t get to have any today either..."

The rest was understood.

Being able to have the lost and found desserts, she was naturally happier than anyone.

Talking about it, Shirley scooped another big spoonful of the Strawberry Mille-feuille into her mouth, as if trying to make up for last week’s miss.

Holly watched the little squirrel puff its cheeks and laughed lightly.

Then she looked up at Blake across from her, busy typing on his phone.

Unexpectedly, he indulged his niece quite a bit.

For some reason, the term ’daughter slave’ popped into her head.

She found it hard to imagine Blake Sinclair ever being associated with those words.

Holly was lost in thought and didn’t notice the man across had already put down his phone, his gaze locked precisely on the curve of her smile.

"What is Miss Crowe smiling about?"

Holly snapped back to reality, meeting his gaze.

Beside her, Shirley also paused her eating, blinking her curious big eyes at her.

Staring into four wide eyes, Holly became flustered and blurted out what she was thinking: "I didn’t expect President Sinclair to dot on his niece so much... he’ll surely be very happy when he has a daughter in the future..."

Her mouth ran ahead of her brain.

As soon as she finished speaking, Holly regretted it.

As expected, after hearing her words, Blake raised an eyebrow slightly, giving her a somewhat amused look.

Holly’s ears turned red.

Could it be The Sinclair Family was one of those old-fashioned families that favored sons over daughters? After all, they had three hundred and twenty-one family rules.

In her panic, she added, "A son... a son too..."

She only made it worse.

Holly wished she could bury her face in the cake plate before her.

Blake observed her reaction fully, the light reflecting amber in his pupils like melted honey candy.

"I respect my wife’s wishes." He gazed directly at Holly, but his voice was as gentle as a breeze by the ear.

"I like boys and girls, but..." He adjusted his posture slightly, his body moving a little, and the light caught a fascinating angle from his watch, "but she will always be my top priority."

Though the words weren’t meant for her, Holly inexplicably felt her face burning.

She quickly looked down, fumbling clumsily with the napkin, then picked up a spoon to dig into the Basque cake.

The moment it entered her mouth, she heard a light laugh above her, and the heat nearly caused Holly to drop her spoon.

The store’s music just then switched to "Try."

The soothing piano notes accompanied a lazy male voice singing "...If I say you’re the one, would you believe me? If I ask you to stay, would you show me the way? Tell me what to say so you don’t leave me..."

Shirley buried herself in the cake again.

From her peripheral vision, Holly saw Blake’s hand resting on the table’s edge.

That hand had nearly encircled her shoulder earlier, and now, it was casually tapping the table.

The rhythm gradually aligned with the music.

Sinclair soon cleared both dessert plates, leaning back, patting her round belly, her tongue licking her lips, evidently wanting more.

"Hello, here’s your Myrica Lychee Cake and black coffee from the earlier order."

The store clerk came over with a tray.

Sinclair’s eyes lit up instantly, almost jumping for joy.

But she still politely asked, "Sister, we didn’t order this."

The clerk smiled, "It’s from the gentleman here, placed after you went upstairs. The Myrica Lychee Cake is a new product today."

Shirley was so thrilled that she could have danced around.

"Uncle, uncle, is the cake for me?"

Blake took a sip of his coffee, "Who was it that couldn’t sleep because of a toothache last week?"

Sinclair instantly deflated.

Blake raised an eyebrow slightly, sliding the plate over, "You can only have one bite."

And revived again.

Holly watched the niece-uncle interaction, the corners of her mouth curling up uncontrollably.

"Delicious!" Shirley suddenly leaned forward, pushing the Myrica cake toward Holly, "Crowe, have a taste."

Holly: "Huh?"

Instinctively, she leaned towards refusal.

Sinclair held her chest with a pained look, "Uncle doesn’t like sweets, and Shirley can only have one bite, it’d be such a waste if Crowe doesn’t eat it too."

Amused, Holly picked up a fork and sliced a piece of cake.

The long-missed sweetness exploded on her tongue, evoking a hint of sweet and sour childhood memories.

Myrica.

There was a Myrica Tree next to grandmother’s yard when she was little.

"Not to your taste?"

Blake suddenly asked.

Holly shook her head, "It’s delicious, it’s just... I haven’t had desserts in a long while."

Today, she finally tasted the flavor of "liking" again.

Blake’s gaze lingered on her face for a few seconds before he spoke, seemingly unintentionally, "I thought Miss Crowe didn’t like Myrica."

Holly looked up and met his gaze at just the right moment.