The Man Who Ruined My 22nd, the Customer Who Wanted a Steamed Bun Chapter 12

The Man Who Ruined My 22nd, the Customer Who Wanted a Steamed Bun Chapter 12

Elliot’s final silhouette looked hunched and tired, without a trace of the polished confidence he once wore so well.

Beside him, Vivienne was still shouting about something, but the wind scattered her voice into meaningless noise.

I thought this was probably the last time in my life that I would ever have anything to do with them.

After they left, Wesley turned around, opened his arms, and pulled me into a tight embrace.

“Elena, I’m so sorry I was late,” he murmured into my hair. “You shouldn’t have had to face that alone.”

The corners of my eyes were wet.

The tears quickly disappeared into my collar.

Maisie hugged my legs from below.

“I love Mommy the most! That lady was mean, I hate her.”

Wesley rubbed Maisie’s little head and kissed my cheek.

“Elena, take Maisie upstairs and rest. I’ll clean up down here.”

I nodded and held Maisie’s hand as we walked toward the stairs.

Halfway up, I could not help looking back at Wesley, who had put on an apron and was already busy in the kitchen.

The satisfaction in my chest bubbled up like soda.

I smiled, then suddenly called out to him.

“Honey!”

His mop stopped mid-swipe.

Then he looked up at me a little blankly, the tips of his ears burning red from a name I rarely used.

“What … what is it, h-honey?”

Wesley stumbled over the word.

His ears were practically purple by now, and he looked so utterly adorable I couldn’t resist.

I hurried back downstairs, cupped his face, and kissed him hard.

When I looked up again, Wesley had completely frozen.

I leaned close to his ear and whispered, “What birthday present did you sneak out to buy for me today?”

Wesley’s face instantly heated up, as hot as the buns fresh out of the steamer.

“Maisie sold me out again,” he groaned.

I laughed, hugged him, and kissed him several more times.

I thought Maisie had already gone upstairs.

In truth, she was secretly crouched on the stairs, smiling as she watched her parents love each other.

Stroke by careful stroke, she wrote the whole thing into her diary.

Life returned to peace.

The breakfast shop did better and better.

Wesley would often stare at me with a silly smile when he thought I was not looking.

Whenever I caught him, he would deny it with all his might.

One perfectly ordinary afternoon, the TV news played in the background, its anchor’s voice blending with the sound of steam.

“Quinn Holdings is now under a full federal investigation over suspected tax evasion and financial misconduct…”

I checked whether the buns were done.

Listening to the news, I felt as calm as if I had just heard tomorrow would be partly sunny.

Outside the window, the branches grew wild and full.

More and more warmth moved through the wind.

The winter from that year had long since passed.

And I had already stepped into the blazing height of summer.