He Swore He Hated Seafood, So Why Did His Lips Taste Like Oysters? - Chapter 38: Chapter 38
You are reading He Swore He Hated Seafood, So Why Did His Lips Taste Like Oysters?, Chapter 38: Chapter 38. Read more chapters of He Swore He Hated Seafood, So Why Did His Lips Taste Like Oysters?.
Every milestone between Kieran O'Connor and me, his sweet little mentee Isabelle Bennett would mysteriously fall ill.
The day we meeting the parents? She suddenly came down with gastroenteritis.
Our wedding day at city hall? She literally keeled over.
Night before our big ceremony? She got a full-on panic attack.
Kieran unilaterally postponed our wedding, ditching me to whisk her off to Europe for some "healing time."
Four months of radio silence later, I posted in our group chat.
[Wedding's happening next month! Hope you can all make it!]
My phone buzzed instantly. Kieran, of course:
[What the hell is wrong with you? You know damn well Isabelle's fragile right now. Why would you pull this crap now?]
[Delete it now. We already agreed—spring wedding on the next year, remember?]
Oh, what was he talking about?
I'm definitely getting married.
But the groom? Isn't him.
—
Barely hit send when my phone started ringing.
Kieran, naturally.
This was the same guy who'd unilaterally postponed our wedding, ditching me to whisk her off to Europe for some "healing time."
First time he'd bothered calling me in four months.
His voice was deliberately hushed, like he didn't want to disturb someone nearby.
"Savannah, you know damn well she's fragile right now. Why would you pull this crap now?"
"And another thing..."
He paused, irritation creeping in. "Delete it now. I never agreed to a wedding next month."
I could practically see him scowling through the phone.
"Didn't we already discuss this on WhatsApp? We're doing spring, remember?"
Same commanding tone as always.
He wasn't just my boyfriend—he was my boss too.
Guess he got used to me being his obedient little employee.
"Savannah, are you even listening?"
I cleared my throat. "Oh, I'm just counting down the minutes."
"Sorry, seven-minute window's closed. Can't delete it now."
His breathing got heavier. "Then post something new. Say you were kidding around."
I gasped dramatically. "Mr. O'Connor, what on earth are you talking about?"
Oh, what was he talking about?
I'm definitely getting married.
But the groom? Isn't him.
I gently reminded him:
"Mr. O'Connor, did you forget? We broke up four months ago."
Our relationship now? Strictly professional.
I could ditch him in a heartbeat.
But I needed that paycheck.
Few more days until my project bonus comes through, then I'm out of there for good.
He went quiet.
I could hear him soothing Isabelle in the background.
"Hey, you're awake? Did my call wake you up?"
"Don't walk around barefoot—the floor's cold. Put your slippers on... good girl."
Kieran wasn't exactly the nurturing type.
But Isabelle? She brought out his soft side every damn time.
Just like four months ago, the night before our wedding.
I was doing a final fitting, absolutely giddy about tomorrow.
Kieran burst through the door.
Jaw clenched, eyes stormy.
"Bella's having a breakdown about the wedding. Her anxiety's through the roof."
"Savannah, we need to call it off."
My heart plummeted. "Call off the wedding, and then?"
Click.
The sound of his lighter.
"I'm taking her abroad for a while... We'll do the wedding next spring instead."
I felt completely numb. "You seriously don't see that Isabelle has feelings for you?"
He frowned, exhaling smoke.
"She's like a sister to me. This trip will give me time to set her straight."
"Her mom practically raised me when mine was always working. She's family."
"I hope... you can understand."
I couldn't understand it at all.
I laughed bitterly.
"If you're going to enable her through our wedding too... then we're done."
The day we meeting the parents? She suddenly came down with gastroenteritis.
Our wedding day at city hall? She literally keeled over.
Night before our big ceremony? She got a full-on panic attack.
Kieran unilaterally postponed our wedding, ditching me to whisk her off to Europe for some "healing time."
Four months of radio silence later, I posted in our group chat.
[Wedding's happening next month! Hope you can all make it!]
My phone buzzed instantly. Kieran, of course:
[What the hell is wrong with you? You know damn well Isabelle's fragile right now. Why would you pull this crap now?]
[Delete it now. We already agreed—spring wedding on the next year, remember?]
Oh, what was he talking about?
I'm definitely getting married.
But the groom? Isn't him.
—
Barely hit send when my phone started ringing.
Kieran, naturally.
This was the same guy who'd unilaterally postponed our wedding, ditching me to whisk her off to Europe for some "healing time."
First time he'd bothered calling me in four months.
His voice was deliberately hushed, like he didn't want to disturb someone nearby.
"Savannah, you know damn well she's fragile right now. Why would you pull this crap now?"
"And another thing..."
He paused, irritation creeping in. "Delete it now. I never agreed to a wedding next month."
I could practically see him scowling through the phone.
"Didn't we already discuss this on WhatsApp? We're doing spring, remember?"
Same commanding tone as always.
He wasn't just my boyfriend—he was my boss too.
Guess he got used to me being his obedient little employee.
"Savannah, are you even listening?"
I cleared my throat. "Oh, I'm just counting down the minutes."
"Sorry, seven-minute window's closed. Can't delete it now."
His breathing got heavier. "Then post something new. Say you were kidding around."
I gasped dramatically. "Mr. O'Connor, what on earth are you talking about?"
Oh, what was he talking about?
I'm definitely getting married.
But the groom? Isn't him.
I gently reminded him:
"Mr. O'Connor, did you forget? We broke up four months ago."
Our relationship now? Strictly professional.
I could ditch him in a heartbeat.
But I needed that paycheck.
Few more days until my project bonus comes through, then I'm out of there for good.
He went quiet.
I could hear him soothing Isabelle in the background.
"Hey, you're awake? Did my call wake you up?"
"Don't walk around barefoot—the floor's cold. Put your slippers on... good girl."
Kieran wasn't exactly the nurturing type.
But Isabelle? She brought out his soft side every damn time.
Just like four months ago, the night before our wedding.
I was doing a final fitting, absolutely giddy about tomorrow.
Kieran burst through the door.
Jaw clenched, eyes stormy.
"Bella's having a breakdown about the wedding. Her anxiety's through the roof."
"Savannah, we need to call it off."
My heart plummeted. "Call off the wedding, and then?"
Click.
The sound of his lighter.
"I'm taking her abroad for a while... We'll do the wedding next spring instead."
I felt completely numb. "You seriously don't see that Isabelle has feelings for you?"
He frowned, exhaling smoke.
"She's like a sister to me. This trip will give me time to set her straight."
"Her mom practically raised me when mine was always working. She's family."
"I hope... you can understand."
I couldn't understand it at all.
I laughed bitterly.
"If you're going to enable her through our wedding too... then we're done."
End of He Swore He Hated Seafood, So Why Did His Lips Taste Like Oysters? Chapter 38. Continue reading Chapter 39 or return to He Swore He Hated Seafood, So Why Did His Lips Taste Like Oysters? book page.