The Cherished Wife

Wife 75

With a mutual understanding in place, Noelle headed off to bed, her mind at ease. Charles, left alone, watched her leave and felt his carefully controlled emotions begin to bubble up again. He was not Mr. Perfect, but he had bent over backward for Noelle time and again.

His phone suddenly rang, displaying Peter’s number. Charles was caught off–guard. “What’s going on?” Peter, hearing Charles’s voice, could not resist a smirk. “Just a friendly call to pass the long night.” Content protected by Nôv/el(D)rama.Org.

Peter’s voice, edged with a challenge, buzzed through the phone, and Charles squinted his eyes, a hint of suspicion flickering through them. “Did Sean spill the beans?” That had to be it. Peter was not the type to ring up in the dead of night without a good reason.

Peter’s tone dropped. “I didn’t picture you tying the knot with her. Are you sure about this?”

“Of course I’m sure,” Charles replied, rising from his chair. His long fingers swept across the desk, tapping it assuredly. “I know what I’m doing.”

“If you say so,” Peter conceded. He was not one to poke his nose into others‘ business. “So, when do we get to meet her?” He was genuinely intrigued by the woman who had gotten Charles to pop the question. He was not a gossip hound like Sean, but he was definitely keen on meeting this lady. It’s been ages since we caught up with Steven Fischer too!”

Charles got the hint. Peter was less interested in meeting Noelle and more into luring Steven out.

Charles gave a slight squint. “Let’s play it by ear.” It was obvious Noelle was not ready for the big reveal. When the time’s right, I’ll introduce her to the gang.”

“Cool,” Peter nodded, then could not resist teasing, “So, is it true what Sean said? Are you tossing and turning all alone tonight?” He asked with a mischievous grin.

Charles and Peter were not the closest, but they could poke fun at each other. Since they were both sharp as tacks, they often found themselves in a friendly rivalry. Peter, the master of snark, always played by his own rules, while Charles, the more grounded one, was no stranger to getting crafty.

Upon hearing Peter’s words, Charles simply said, “I remember Steven…”

“Charles, you’re going to lose to me one of these days. Anyway, it’s late and time for bed.”

Peter hung up, and Charles squinted into the night, surprised at how fast Sean’s gossip had traveled. Shaking his head, he pocketed his phone, lit a cigarette, and leaned against the balcony railing, staring into the sparse stars above.

Noelle woke up refreshed and surprised to see it was nearly eight. She scrambled out of bed to get ready for the day.

She had expected to toss and turn all night, but instead, she had fallen asleep almost instantly. Maybe it was the relief of solving her problems, or maybe Charles’s bed was magic. As she drifted off, she had caught the faintest whiff of lime and a hint of orange, cool and crisp.

Descending the stairs, Noelle was greeted by the scent of something delicious. At the bottom, she spotted an apron–clad Charles emerging from the kitchen with a steaming pot. He saw her too and nodded toward the dining room. “You’re awake? How’d you sleep?”

A bit embarrassed, Noelle said, “Like a baby. Thanks for asking!” She stepped down and added, “What’s

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that amazing smell? Did you make it?”

“Yeah, Are you ready for the day?”

She nodded. “Need a hand with anything?” Just yesterday, she had boasted about not needing a maid and being able to cook, yet here she was, oversleeping while Charles was the one in the kitchen. “You can wake me up next time. I’ll make breakfast!”