No More Waiting, She Chooses Love
Chapter 691

The sharp sting at the tip of my fingers made me instinctively pull back, but Phipps firmly held my hand in place, whispering soothingly, "Just hang in there, it'll be over soon." His voice was gentle, a stark contrast to the iciness he had shown me earlier. This man was as unpredictable as the weather in June, leaving me utterly confused.

The nurse was quite professional, swiftly removing the shard of glass lodged in my finger and showing it to me, "Look how big this is. If we hadn't taken it out, it would've kept hurting." I had no idea when I got that glass shard stuck in my finger, probably when I went to smash that ashtray.

The nurse disinfected my wound and slapped a band-aid on it. "All set," she said.

"Thank you," Phipps expressed his gratitude to the nurse before letting go of my hand.

I awkwardly retracted my hand, glancing at the band-aid and then at him, "What about you?"

"What about me?" Phipps asked, then realizing what I meant, "I'm fine, no injuries."

He had managed to avoid getting hurt even after we had rolled around dodging a car. This man was clearly not as delicate as he appeared.

As we walked out of the treatment room, I couldn't help but question his motives, "So, what's the game here? After revenge or something?"

His attitude towards me had drastically changed, sparking my curiosity.

"Hmm?" He feigned ignorance.

"Phipps, you clearly dislike me, so what's all this about?" I lifted my injured finger.

"It's my fault you got hurt. Is it wrong to bring you to see a doctor?" His logic was sound.

"Fine, now that the wound is treated and you've got the whole picture, we're even," I said, making a playful gesture with my hand.

"Do I really look that much like the person you loved?" Phipps suddenly asked.

Staring at his face, I replied, "At first, maybe, but not so much now."

"You protected me today because of this face, right?" He was catching on.

I nodded, "Yes, that face means a lot to me. If someone had ruined it, I'd lose a piece of my past."

He fell silent, and I chuckled, "Phipps, I know you're not him."

Just as I was about to walk past him, he said, "Does your offer to take care of me still stand?"

His question stopped me in my tracks, and I turned to him, "You're agreeing to it now?"

He looked a bit sheepish, "Better to deal with one person like you than juggle several clients."

I laughed softly, "Had a change of heart, huh?"

Phipps gazed at me seriously, "Are you still interested?"

Men. They never liked being dismissed, did they?

I teased, "What if I said I'm not interested anymore? Would you be disappointed?"

"Yes," he admitted, "I was hoping you'd reconsider."

As if I'd let him manipulate me. “I was just speaking on impulse the other day because of your face. Now that I've thought it over, you're not the one I loved. Why would I want yout around all the time?"

“I could cook for you. I'm actually quite good at it," Phipps offered out of the blue.

The mention of cooking brought back memories of Ernest cooking for me. Since he left, I hadn't had a home-cooked meal, missing the familiar tastes.

This man knew how to play his cards, “Really? Show me your hands."

He obediently extended his hands, showing clean, soft fingers, devoid of any calluses. I laughed, "And these hands can cook?"

"You could give it a try and see," Phipps was definitely laying on the charm.

I didn't call him out but went along with it instead, "Alright, if I like what you cook, then you've got yourself a deal. You can cook for me.

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"Can we try it now?" His eagerness was apparent.

I nodded slightly, then stepped closer, “Should we go to your place or mine?"