"Was that Nathan Redgrave on the phone?"
"Mhm."
Morgan Joyce looked at her, a flicker of an almost imperceptible, complicated emotion crossing his refined and elegant face. "Hurry up and eat before it gets cold."
Hannah Hale picked up her chopsticks and put a bite of food in her mouth. "You're not leaving?"
"No. I'm not tired anymore, anyway. I'll head back after you're done eating."
"Alright then. Do you want some? But I have to say, your housekeeper is a really amazing cook. The lunches she sends over are always so delicious, and she never repeats a dish."
Hannah Hale ladled a small spoonful of soup, blew on it to cool it down, and then drank it.
Smiling, Morgan Joyce took a pack of tissues from his pocket, pulled one out, and leaned over to wipe a grain of rice from the corner of Hannah Hale's mouth.
"My housekeeper is indeed a great cook. If you like it, have some more."
