CHAPTER 47: CHAPTER 47: THREE THINGS BEFORE THE WEDDING

Holly, led by Blake Sinclair by the hand, walked outside, her heart a little unsteady looking at their intertwined fingers.

As they passed by the staircase, they bumped into Sinclair holding a strawberry bear plush toy.

Sinclair’s eyes widened, her mouth forming an "O" shape, thinking she might have seen wrong, she rubbed her eyes, "Crowe, you..."

She barely got a few words out before Laurel Sinclair appeared out of nowhere, scooping her up like a little kitten.

Laurel winked at Holly, a teasing smile on her lips, and in the blink of an eye, the large and small disappeared quickly at the staircase.

Holly: "..."

Blake Sinclair’s room was on the third floor, spacious and very simple.

Furnished in gray and white, with basic arrangements and clean-lined furniture, the overall look was very comfortable.

He led Holly to sit on the sofa, their hands still clasped together.

Her mind was still a bit dazed, still a bit uncomprehending.

Everything was happening too fast, like a dream.

Was she really going to register their marriage with Blake Sinclair tomorrow?

More surprising than the act of registering was the fact that it was with Blake Sinclair.

They were like two parallel lines that would never intersect, but now their futures had been intertwined from today onwards.

Future?

Her future with Blake Sinclair?

She didn’t dare to think deeply about what kind of scenery that ’future’ might hold.

Lost in her thoughts, Holly suddenly felt her palm empty as Blake Sinclair let go of her hand, disappearing somewhere without a word.

She was momentarily taken aback.

Looking down at her palm, it still retained the warmth of his touch.

Blake Sinclair came over with a hairdryer.

He naturally guided her to sit at the bedside, plugged in the hairdryer, and tested the temperature on the back of his hand.

The noise of the hairdryer humming filled the room, suddenly making the atmosphere feel less awkward.

Blake Sinclair rolled up his shirt sleeves to his elbows, revealing muscular forearms. Holly’s eyes were drawn to a small mole, reminded of the few blows he’d taken earlier.

"How are your injuries? Maybe you’d better treat them first."

Holly said, standing up to get the medical kit, but barely halfway up, Blake Sinclair gently but firmly pressed her back down by the shoulders.

His touch wasn’t forceful, yet carried a measure of insistence.

His voice came from behind, low and husky in the drone of the hairdryer, "Let me dry your hair first."

Holly was momentarily stunned, her hair practically dry, and he was the one injured, how could she let him help?

She tried to turn around, "I can do it myself, you’re hurt..."

Blake Sinclair’s hand moved to the back of her neck, softly caressing through her hair, "Don’t move."

This made Holly really unable to move, even her breathing became light.

She could feel him bending over, the scent of cedar mingling with warm air engulfing them, "Thank you for saving me today, Mrs. Sinclair."

His voice was deep, with a hint of amusement, and Holly’s face flushed from her ears down to her neck.

She felt frozen in place.

Without moving.

They hadn’t even registered their marriage yet!

His words sparked all kinds of imagination.

She was incredibly grateful that Blake Sinclair was behind her, or else he would have seen her bright red face.

At this moment, the sound of the hairdryer became the best cover, masking Holly’s rapid heartbeat and the subtle atmosphere blossoming between them.

The warm air blew through her hair, carrying the heat from his hands.

Blake Sinclair’s fingers gently threaded through her hair, slowly wandering.

His touch was gentle, softly massaging her scalp at times, like some secret comfort; whenever he encountered tangled strands, he would carefully detangle them patiently.

Holly never imagined that drying hair could feel so prolonged, each second seemingly stretched endlessly. She could only silently lower her eyes, staring at their intertwined shadows on the floor.

She didn’t know how much time passed before the sound of the hairdryer finally stopped.

The room instantly fell silent, only their soft breaths remained.

Blake Sinclair brought over a comb and started smoothing her hair, from the crown to the ends, the comb teeth gliding gently. On the last stroke, his fingers brushed against the back of her neck.

This time, it wasn’t through her hair; the warm touch landed directly on her skin, making Holly shudder and her shoulder accidentally bumped his hand.

"Sorry." Holly hurriedly turned to look at him, "I’m a bit ticklish."

Blake Sinclair’s gaze fell on his fingertips, remembering her tiny reaction, watching her now with her head down, looking helpless like a startled rabbit, ears almost drooping.

"I apologize."

He looked at her flushed cheeks, adding a meaningful, "I’ll pay attention next time."

Hearing his words, Holly was stunned.

Next time?

There would be a next time?

Blake Sinclair absorbed her reaction fully, his smile deepening.

He unhurriedly unplugged the hairdryer and began organizing the cord, wrapping it neatly around.

Holly watched his actions; these hands had just been drying her hair, now doing such mundane chores, yet imparting a sense of tenderness.

She touched the hair draping over her shoulder, it seemed to still retain the warmth of his fingers.

"Blake Sinclair," Holly poked his arm, "We’re going to register our marriage tomorrow."

"Mm." He responded quickly, but his hands seemed to hesitate momentarily.

"I think there are things that need to be clarified," Holly said.

Blake Sinclair’s hands came to a complete stop.

He turned to face her, his voice a little tense, "Go ahead."

Holly inexplicably became more serious, adjusting her posture to sit up straight, her hands folded neatly on her lap, facing him earnestly.

Blake Sinclair was amused by her demeanor, but mimicked her posture seriously, facing each other as if they were about to engage in a billion-dollar business negotiation.

Holly twisted her fingers, "You know I had a previous relationship that lasted seven years."

Blake Sinclair let out a throaty "Mm," his heart inexplicably tightening.

Holly laughed self-deprecatingly, "Those seven years truly happened, I can’t erase them, but I must tell you about it, otherwise, it’s unfair to you. If you mind..."

"Why would I mind?" Blake Sinclair interrupted her, leaning forward a bit, "Since it can’t be erased, let it become the past. Our future is what holds the most weight, Mrs. Sinclair, I am confident."

The last few words he spoke with particular certainty.

Holly’s heart was touched, unable to calm.

He didn’t force her to immediately cut ties with the past, but offered a promise of a ’future.’

Their future...

Blake Sinclair had somehow moved closer, their knees almost touching.

Holly instinctively wanted to retreat, only to be stopped by his hand on her knee.

"Anything else?" His voice was quieter, with a hint of persuasion.

Holly composed herself and continued, "And the house in Glynmere was bought by my parents for me, I won’t sell it. After we register..."

"That’s fine." Blake Sinclair responded readily, "After marriage, you can continue living in Glynmere, it’s your home, stay as long as you want."

"It’s just..." he hesitated for a moment.

Holly felt tense, "Just what?"

Blake Sinclair leaned toward her, his palm gently caressing her knee, "Just hoping, Mrs. Sinclair could leave a place for me in our home, after all, living apart from the first day of marriage..."

He paused, a teasing tone in his voice, "Spread around... might make it seem like I’m not too competent."