Elliot glanced up at Avery’s fące, then said in a hoarse voice, “Thank you.”
The sweater felt more comfortable and warm than he had expected.
Avery was shocked by how good he looked in it.
She could not decide if it was the quality of the sweater, or if he was just that good looking. She picked
up the paper bag and pulled out a gift box.
“I also got you this just in case you didn’t like the sweater,” she said.
Elliot stared at the box in her hand.
“It’s a lighter,” Avery explained quickly. “I didn’t know what else to get you so I got this. It’s practical and
you could probably use it. You shouldn’t smoke too much, though. It’s bad for you.”
Then, she placed the box in Elliot’s hands.
Elliot opened the box, pulled out the lighter, and sparked a light.
“I’m not a heavy smoker,” he said in a sultry voice. “I only smoke when I’m stressed out.”
Avery’s brows raised in surprise as she said, “You were always smoking when I was living at your
place.”
“That’s because you were always driving me mad,” Elliot answered.
Avery had no answer for that.
“Let’s go out for some air,” Elliot said.
He was feeling a little warm.
The heater was on in the restaurant and drops of sweat were beginning to form on his forehead.
“Sure. Let me help,” Avery said as she made her way behind Elliot’s wheelchair.
“It’s fine. It’s an electric wheelchair,” Elliot said as he began to roll out of the building at the push of a
button.
Avery caught up to him and said, “You always had your bodyguard wheel you around before.”
“There was no need for me to do anything while they were around.”
“I could help you, too…”
“It’s fine.”
“I want to,” Avery said, then grabbed onto the handles of the wheelchair and pushed Elliot outside.
“How are your legs? What did the doctors say?”
“The right one’s bruised, and the left one’s broken.”
Avery felt a sharp pang in her heart.
“Did it hurt a lot?”
“It was okay.”
The cold air welcomed them as they exited the building.
Avery wheeled Elliot to the side of the road, then placed her coat over his legs.
“Why didn’t you reply to my message?” she said after finally finding the courage.
She had found it hard to sleep for a few nights when she had not received a reply to her
message.
Their faces were close, and their breaths intermingled.
Elliot did not want to tell Avery that he had a relapse and that he had only recently become stable after
a few weeks of antidepressants.
After that, he found out from Ben that Avery was busy knitting a sweater for him, so he did not want to
bother her.
“Forget it. I guess it didn’t warrant a reply anyway. It was the first snow of the year, so I impulsively sent
you a message,” Avery said.
She got to her feet, then moved to the back of the wheelchair and wheeled it along the street.
“Why didn’t you come to see me?” Elliot asked suddenly.
“Jun said you were too proud. I was afraid that you wouldn’t want to see me until the scratches on your
face recovered.”
“You only sent me one message the whole time.”
“You didn’t respond the first time, so I thought you didn’t want to hear from me.”
“I did, though,” Elliot croaked.
“What?” Avery asked in bewilderment as her heart began to race. “Elliot, what did you—”
“There’s a bakery over there,” Elliot interrupted as he pointed at a store in front of them, changing the
subject. “I feel like eating cake.”
Avery’s attention was successfully diverted.
“Oh, let’s go get a cake, then!” she said, then added after a brief pause, “Didn’t you hate dessert?”
“It’s fine to have some on my birthday.”
“That’s true. Birthdays should be a little more special.”
At the bakery, the shop readily offered her assistance and asked them to pick a cake. Elliot glanced at
Avery and said, “You pick.”
“Should we get a mousse cake?” Avery asked. “A butter cake might be too sweet.”
Elliot turned to the shop assistant and said, “We’ll take the mousse cake.”
“Of course, Sir,” responded the shop assistant. “What size would you like?”
Elliot turned back to Avery again and asked, “What size should we get?” “How many people are coming
to the party?” Avery asked.
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