"Then I'll cook for you from now on. I know how to cook, so why not accept me?" Finn Wilson suddenly leaned in, smiling ambiguously.
Viola Harris pushed away the peachy face that was so close, "If you keep talking nonsense, get out immediately!"
"Alright, alright, I won't say anymore." Finn Wilson put away his playful expression and went to the kitchen. Before long, his voice floated out from the kitchen, "Viola, do you want to try my cooking? I'll make a bit more, and you can eat with me."
Viola Harris turned her head to look in the direction of the kitchen. Through the transparent glass partition door, Finn Wilson was putting on an apron. It looked a bit comical, yet inexplicably... cozy.
When they were together before, they never had such a homely moment as they did now. Most of the time, they were out squandering time, or at home exhausting each other's passion.
Viola Harris nonchalantly retracted her gaze and carried Nick to the room for a bath.
