"Claire." Alvin seemed to be waiting for her call. The moment she dialed, he picked up at once.
"Alvin, I'm so sorry. Something came up today and I couldn't make dinner for you. What would you like to eat? I can pick something up from a restaurant," she said apologetically.
"Claire, it's all right. My secretary just ordered food, and she even got your favorite, chicken stewed with pork tripe. Where are you? Come join me. I feel bad always making you cook, and I really don't want to tire you out. I'd feel awful," Alvin replied with a warm laugh, gentle and considerate.
"All right then. I'll come by now and check your wound," Claire agreed. Just as she ended the call, a cold sneer sounded beside her. "Disgustingly sweet."
She didn't need to look to know who had made the remark.
Rolling her eyes, she turned to leave.
"Well, are you off to spoon-feed your lover, or maybe help him take a piss?" Gilbert's voice dripped with sarcasm behind her.
