Resent, Reject, Regret

Resent Reject, Regret By Aqua Summers Chapter 226

Chapter 226 Please Continue Loving Me

Failing to answer her own question, Deirdre laughed mirthlessly to herself. “Don’t tell me this is all about atonement, Brendan. You never opened yourself up to me over the course of our two years together, but even I know you’re not the type to suffer through anything in the name of atonement.”

The real Brendan Brighthall would always use money to get out of things-even his own moral failings and irreparable wrongs. He would never care to use any other method. Why would he? Why squander his precious time and effort?

Brendan was nonplussed. Even he did not know why.

Was it because he did not want Deirdre to lose that one last hope she clung to? That one last thing that stopped her from stepping over another ledge? Was it because he could not bear the thought of her hating him? Was it because he would not be able to stomach seeing Deirdre writhing in hellish anguish after discovering her mother’s death?

It was all of that.

That was why he had to make Deirdre fall in love with him. He had to succeed Ophelia as Deirdre’s tether to the world of the living….

But he could not say any of those things aloud.

Deirdre could sense his hesitance and lowered her eyes to the ground. “Is it out of pity, Brendan?”

Was it “pity” instead of the far grander idea of “atonement”? Was it just sympathy-the same one people felt for a stray animal or a homeless beggar on the street?

A bitter smile shadowed her lips. “You don’t need to pity me, Brendan. I’ve already gotten used to the kind of life I’ve been given. Besides, the fact that you’re bringing my mother to me is the greatest thing I could ask for. It’s more than enough.”

“No! It’s not enough at all!” Brendan retorted. He then took a sharp breath. Belonging © NôvelDram/a.Org.

Deirdre was stunned. She was about to say something again when Brendan suddenly stepped closer.” You asked me why, didn’t you?”

He cupped her chin and pressed his lips against hers, bystanders be damned.

“That’s the answer,” he said in her ear. “I want us to go back to those days again. So please… love me again.”

Deirdre’s eyes widened, and her pupils seemed to be quivering. She panted, hanging her head as her mind buzzed amidst this confusing chaos.

She did not confirm or deny it in the end-because she had no idea what to say at all. She could not distinguish the nature of these events. Was it just a whim in his head? Was it a design that would serve a greater scheme? Charlene was still around, after all. She and her wiles.

They did not continue their trip around the amusement park. As Deirdre buckled up in his car, she asked,” Are we going back?”

“Not yet. Need to get you some new clothes.” Brendan drank a few sips of water. “Since you’re obviously not going to look any less emaciated for the time being, we could at least make you look a bit more presentable.”

He took Deirdre to a clothing shop, one where the owner herself walked to the door to greet her most important customer. She quickly observed the woman next to him and stiffened a little, but her

professionalism took over. Giving both of them a winning smile, she asked, “Here to get a new look, Mr. Brighthall? Or can I help you with something else?”

Brendan looked at Deirdre. “Pick two sets of casual clothes for her. The kind that would make her look rosy and alive.”

“Say no more. I’m on it,” Laia replied.

She led Deirdre around the shop, weaving in and out of aisles flanked by rows and rows of clothes. Surprisingly, Brendan followed them, his attention on this affair palpaple as he frequently expressed his thoughts and made remarks.

He was not like that when he went shopping with Charlene. In fact, he was frequently buried in work. documents and he never seemed to care about Charlene’s activities.

Laia compared his responses and easily got a good handle on Deirdre’s importance, which fueled her cordiality.

She picked up a dress with a humble hue and held it in front of Deirdre. “How about this?”

Deirdre reached out to touch the fabric. Before she could, however, Brendan snatched it away and stared a little too pointedly at the cuff. “A bit too short, don’t you think?”

Laia flashed him her teeth. “Mr. Brighthall, that dress reaches her knees. No one in our profession would call that short with a straight face.”