He met her anger with a resolute silence, holding the glass just out of her reach, the wine a tantalizing crimson shimmer.
His quiet defiance only fueled Jenniferâs annoyance.
She was thwarted, her desire for the wine morphing into a petulant need to best him.
âThis is utterly unreasonable, Hilliard! Iâve pursued you relentlessly for an entire year, yet youâve consistently evaded me.
Iâm weary of this fruitless pursuit.
Could you simply vanish from my life?â
Tears welled in her eyes, her frustration transforming into a heavy burden of heartache.
âMiss Turner, no, Jennifer.
Iâ¦
His gaze bore into hers, his voice faltering.
For once, he was at a loss for words, his usually composed demeanor unraveling as his cheeks flushed with embarrassment.
âSpeak up! What do you want to say?â Jenniferâs impatience surged, her voice a blend of exasperation and sorrow.
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Hilliard took a steadying breath, his heart pounding as he grappled with the weight of his feelings.
This was uncharted territory for him, a vulnerability that overshadowed even his most intricate surgeries.
Jennifer had lost her patience.
âForget it.
Iâm leaving now.
â
Gathering his courage, he reached a decision.
Jenniferâs intention to leave spurred him into action.
âWait, please.
â
His grip tightened around her wrist, and with a deep breath, he drained the wine from the glass, the alcohol lending him a newfound boldness.
After taking the drink, he felt a bit dizzy.
âJennifer, I have feelings for you.
â
The world seemed to pause around them, and Jennifer frozen in disbelief at his revelation.
Hilliard continued, his voice earnest and sincere, âIâve been foolish, oblivious to the fact that Iâve fallen in love with you long before you departed.
Your absence made me realize that I canât erase you from my thoughts.
Iâm prepared to take the next step.
I want to marry you, Jennifer.
But letâs start with dating.
When the time is right, Iâll propose properly.
What do you say?â
Jennifer stared at him, her mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions.
His unexpected declaration left her dazed, as though reality had merged with a dream she once held dear.
She felt as if he had lost his mind or had become possessed by some evil spirit.
She had dreamed about him confessing his love to her countless times.
Yet, irony hung in the air, cruel and poignant.
The moment she had longed for, the confession she had imagined countless times, felt strangely hollow.
The anticipation that had sustained her had been replaced by a bitter disappointment.
Hilliardâs vision of love and matrimony seemed almost comical against this backdrop of unmet expectations.