Claire: "I just saw that you guys seem close, so I’m casually asking. If you feel offended, I’ll shut up."
Sean Lockwood glanced at her sideways.
In his dark pupils, no emotion could be discerned.
"Jared used to be in the sa team as ; strictly speaking, we founded that team together," Sean said gently, "We had a very good relationship."
"So Jade Sutton is also very close with you and Jared, and would celebrate your birthday?"
Sean was silent for two seconds and said, "No, I t Jade after my team disbanded."
The more Claire listened, the more her curiosity intensified.
Such as why Sean’s team fell apart.
Or what kind of stories there once were between Jade, Jared, and Sean.
And whether Sean knew about the current entanglent between Jade and Jared. If he did know, what would his reaction be?
However, seeing Sean’s clear reluctance to continue the conversation, Claire eventually stopped asking questions.
She looked out the window and found that Sean had sohow driven to the outskirts of Riverbend, and not far away was a vast cetery.
Sean stopped the car and told her, "Wait for in the car."
He then got out alone, took a large bouquet of vibrant red roses from the trunk, and walked into the cetery, stopping only at a distant gravestone.
Sitting in the car, Claire saw from afar that Sean placed the roses solemnly before the gravestone, his thin lips moving, seemingly murmuring softly.
The side of his face, usually calm and indifferent, showed a gentleness she had never seen before.
At that mont, her phone vibrated suddenly, and a WeChat ssage popped up. Claire opened the screen to see a location sent by Jenson Jennings.
Accompanied by a ssage: [We’re here tonight, co by anyti if you’d like.]
Claire didn’t reply.
Jenson, seeing no response on WeChat, looked at Tristan Lockwood beside him and said, "If you really want Claire to co, you should probably invite her yourself. Asking Nathan and to be the go-betweens seems hopeless."
Tristan looked at the ssage Jenson had sent, which had sunk like a stone in the sea.
His originally stern face beca even colder.
"If she doesn’t want to co, so be it. No need to keep inviting her."
"Alright then."
Jenson shrugged, giving up.
After all, both he and Nathan Quinn had watched Tristan all day, checking his phone hundreds of tis, waiting for a ssage from her. They couldn’t stand it anymore and thus contacted Claire.
Yet Tristan, stubborn as he was, wouldn’t admit anything.
Serves him right for not being able to woo his significant other.
...
Sean spent the entire afternoon in the cetery.
When he returned to the car, the sky was already nearing sunset.
Claire had fallen asleep at so point in the car.
Her head was tilted, resting against the car window, her eyes closed tightly, while the sunset sunlight passed through the window, casting on her fair side face, making her long lashes quiver slightly.
Sean’s gaze slowly shifted from Claire to a distant gravestone.
"She doesn’t resemble you at all."
He sighed softly.
"But why do I always think of you when I see her?"
Claire had slept soundly and peacefully, undisturbed.
When she woke, she felt for once that sleep really could make life feel lighter.
Except, she realized she was no longer in the car, but lying on a leather sofa, covered by a thin blanket.
"Awake?"
Sean was sitting at a table, swirling a glass of red wine, his eyes calmly watching her.
Claire looked at him blankly, a little confused.
Sean gestured to an empty seat across the table: "Have a seat."
Claire got up and walked over.
As soon as she sat down, Sean poured her so wine.
Claire’s brow twitched: "Drinking again?"
Sean was noncommittal: "Didn’t we have a pleasant ti last ti?"
"President Lockwood, I’m not a good drinker, you’re an excellent one; I have to yield to you."
Claire declined.
If they drank too much again, caused a scene, and he caught sothing against her, the drinking companion thing would never end.
Contrary to his usual deanor, Sean didn’t adopt a superior stance, directly ordering her, but rather used a negotiating tone, saying: "Didn’t you promise to accompany today?"
His voice was low and hoarse, carrying a kind of enchanting allure.
In her mind, Claire suddenly recalled seeing Sean’s lone and desolate figure standing before a gravestone during the day.
Her heart stirred slightly, rembering it was his birthday today, and her expression softened a bit.
Seizing the mont, Sean placed the wine glass in Claire’s palm, gently clinking it.
Claire looked at him helplessly and said, "You can’t get drunk today."
Sean curved his lips: "You’re currently my most satisfying drinking companion, don’t worry, I won’t persuade you to leave too soon."
"Drinking companion?"
"You said it yourself last ti when we were drinking," Sean recalled earnestly, "You asked how your performance as a drinking buddy was and whether we should continue long-term."
"Impossible."
She had no interest in drinking and would never say such a thing.
Sean glanced at her and feigned disappointnt: "You can think back. Whenever we drink and chat, isn’t it enjoyable? We have similar backgrounds and can understand each other. Besides, I’m such a good drinker, even when you drank too much last ti, I didn’t take advantage of you."
That was true.
However, Claire remained sowhat wary of Sean.
After all, this person sotis spoke truth, sotis lies, and was particularly adept at manipulating people, so she couldn’t fully trust him.
Today, her mood wasn’t as down as last ti, so while drinking with Sean, she kept an eye on her state, ensuring she didn’t drink too much.
In contrast, Sean drank even more than before.
But his drinking capacity was unfathomably deep; Claire watched as he downed glasses of red wine one after another, seemingly unaffected.
It wasn’t until she noticed Sean’s hand tremble slightly while holding the wine glass that she realized he might be pretending to be sober.
"President Lockwood?"
She called out twice before Sean raised his eyes to look at her again.
His usually calm eyes had a hint of carelessness, tinted by the effects of alcohol.
Claire’s heartbeat montarily skipped a beat.
She took the glass from his hand and stopped him from pouring more wine, saying rationally: "You’ve had too much."
Sean paused, lifting his eyelids to stare at her.
His dry palm covered hers, fingers threading between her fingers.
Claire’s fingers trembled, about to retract, but Sean gently embraced her, resting his head on her shoulder.
"Nina."
He called out a stranger’s na, his voice low and hoarse.
"I miss you so much."
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