Resent Reject Regret by Aqua Summers
Resent Reject Regret By Aqua Summers Chapter 566

Chapter 566 Why Did You Call Me That?

Brendan's fever had kicked up brain fog. He started wrapping his arms around Deirdre's

waist while an easy, mirthful smile surfaced on his face. He was free and no longer had to pretend to be a b*stard in a suit.

"I'm hungry, Deirdre." He cooed between panting. "Can you make me another veggie spaghetti, like the last time you made me? It was so good! I miss it now."

Deirdre's face turned white. What did he mean by 'the last time?' Since when had she ever made him something like that? The last time she did was two years ago! Why would Brendan suddenly care about it now?

And the way he addressed her, the tone he was using, why did it feel so familiar?

Deirdre felt her entire frame shaking. Her eyes seemed to be trembling in their sockets. The figure of a man surfaced in her mind against her deepest wishes...

But that was impossible. That was ludicrous! Absurd!

She bit her lips to stay calm. No, whatever she was thinking was absurd, outlandish, and preposterous. And yet, she could not stop her heart from tightening at the thought. Staying calm was becoming a tall order to Deirdre.

She grabbed hold of Brendan. "What did you just call me!?" she demanded, her voice quivering. "What did you just say!?"

The sheer panic in her voice finally shook Brendan out of his delirium. His eyes focused slowly until his vision pooled around the young woman and her ashen horror.

A pang struck his head like a blunt force. He gripped the edge of the blanket tightly, and his voice returned to its steely default. "Why the h*ll are you here, McKinnon? What the h*ll happened to me?"

Deirdre almost wanted to laugh. "Why the h*ll are you- Did your fever wipe out your memory? We were trying to avoid the rain, so we came to stay in this hotel. And then you got a fever so serious, you blacked out."

Brendan took a deep breath and felt chills crawling under his skin. Pulling the blanket up to himself, he asked, "Where are my clothes?"

"Don't you dare change the subject!" Deirdre exclaimed hotly. She had to force herself to take several deep breaths just to calm down. "Do you remember what you just said to

me?"

Brendan's cool, stoic features suddenly stiffened. Then, as though his illness had robbed

him of his memories, he asked, "What did I say?"

Deirdre's eyebrows scrunched into a scowl. 'You called me Dee."

'You must be hearing things."

"Hearing things?" She closed her eyes. "As if it's easy to confuse Deirdre, a two-syllable

name, with Dee! As if your tone didn't change into something completely... unlike

yourself! I'm blind, Brendan, but I'm not deaf!"

She fought the deluge of emotions in her chest and asked again, "Why did you call me

by that name? Why was your voice like that?"

None of it sounded like something he would say. None of it could.

Brendan's answer came after a prolonged moment of silence. Then, a few seconds later,

he answered, "It's just fever delirium. Nonsense spouted in confusion."

"Confusion?"

"Confusion," he reaffirmed flatly. "I've confused my fever dream as reality. I dreamed of

the past when you married me. So when I saw you here, I slipped up."

Deirdre was not buying it. 'You never called me Dee or talked to me in that way. Not even back then."

'You're right." Brendan endured the discomfort of his fever and raised his head slowly. "So, do you need me to spell it out for you?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I feel guilty. Or maybe it's more accurate to say I feel my conscience burning a hole through my soul." He snickered. "So, when I was in the past in that dream, I felt compelled to be kinder to you. I know calling you Dee would have made you happy back then, so I did just that. But my fever made me mess up both reality and dream, so I called you that when I saw you in the real world."