CHAPTER 179: CHAPTER 179: GOING WITH THE FLOW

At least, for Poppy Hale.

Those scheming men with ulterior motives never had a second chance to get close to her.

If she repeatedly rejected them, it was because they repeatedly approached her.

If Serena Sutton really had no interest in Allen Shaw, she would have completely rejected him earlier.

Allen Shaw wasn’t the persistent type either.

The man in the back didn’t speak.

He stared out of the window in a trance.

Winter in Arvum is very cold, a coastal city, with temperatures nearing freezing. The damp chill follows like a shadow, making it seem as if no matter how much one wears, it’s still not enough.

The coldness clung to the bones, making the clothes on one’s body seem damp too.

Declan Hawthorne adjusted the air conditioning to a comfortable temperature.

The car stopped near Allen Shaw’s home, and the man in the driver’s seat spoke, "Get out."

As the car door opened, the cold air rushed in, clearing Allen Shaw’s mind.

The car drove off.

Poppy Hale glanced at the back through the mirror.

Allen Shaw still stood at the intersection.

It seemed he was genuinely troubled.

Declan Hawthorne reached out and turned Poppy Hale’s head back.

"What are you looking at? He’s not better looking than me."

"I’m just worried he drank too much, after all, he’s your good buddy."

"I called his home; someone is coming to get him."

In other words, telling Poppy Hale not to look anymore.

Poppy Hale sighed helplessly.

If Allen Shaw wasn’t his friend, she wouldn’t have said anything.

Upon returning to the Hawthorne Family home, all the lights were off.

Ever since Florence Lynch and Truth Hale moved into the Hawthorne Family home, Iris Quill and Heather Underwood also came over.

With two children at home, the whole family was asleep by nine.

The kitchen staff saw them and whispered, "Madam and Sir have gone to bed. They asked the young master and young mistress to get up early tomorrow."

Tomorrow is Old Master Hawthorne’s birthday.

Naturally, it’s going to be a grand event.

Declan Hawthorne nodded, "Got it."

He hugged Poppy Hale upstairs and whispered, "At my grandfather’s birthday banquet at the old house, you don’t have to force a smile."

"You are my wife; you don’t have to care about what others think, just me."

Declan Hawthorne lowered his eyes.

Poppy Hale turned back to look at him.

Outside, the stars were shimmering, the night hiding the starlight, and the moonlight was silent.

In the utter silence, the hallway light cast over Declan Hawthorne, and when he looked at Poppy Hale, his eyes were filled with an intoxicating tenderness.

Circles and circles, rippling out.

And hidden within it was worry.

Poppy Hale couldn’t help but reach out to touch Declan Hawthorne’s brows.

"Don’t worry, I won’t let myself suffer. If your grandfather doesn’t like me, I won’t like him either."

"Besides, I already don’t like him."

Declan Hawthorne’s throat bobbed, and he asked, "Why?"

Poppy Hale answered confidently.

"Because he wasn’t good to you."

"Though one might pity a man for being unfortunate, when you were little, you were just a poor child, not yet a man."

She just, when raising a child, would think of her past.

And Declan Hawthorne’s past.

In a child, there are shadows of their parents.

Every time Jackie Barrett held Florence Lynch affectionately, it felt surreal.

Florence Lynch’s expressions were very similar to Declan Hawthorne’s.

Maybe she also wanted to make up for Declan Hawthorne, doubling that love, pouring it all onto Florence Lynch.

Poppy Hale knew those things; she had no stance to blame Old Master Hawthorne.

But as a wife, she also had the right to feel indignant for Declan Hawthorne.

Even if just at this moment, while looking at him, she felt heartache for him.

For Declan Hawthorne, that was enough.

The man took a step forward.

Hugged Poppy Hale’s waist, lifted her horizontally, and walked upstairs.

"If you feel sorry for me, then tonight you’ll be on top."

Poppy Hale was speechless, reaching out to punch Declan Hawthorne’s chest several times.

"Aren’t we supposed to get up early tomorrow?"

"Then you sleep, I’ll feast alone."

His legs were long; just a few steps brought them into the room.

The room had already been changed with new bedding, as if last night nothing had happened, and there was a bouquet in a vase by the bed.

Declan Hawthorne raised an eyebrow, using one hand to pull open a drawer.

As expected, there was nothing inside.

"My mom took them all."

That bouquet too, Lord knows where Jackie Barrett found lotus flowers and seeds, secretly urging them to have a child.

The things in the drawer weren’t taken by Jackie Barrett.

She wasn’t that intrusive.

It was Declan Hawthorne who deliberately left it unprepared.

A few times, they hadn’t taken precautions, and Poppy Hale hadn’t mentioned it afterwards, both tacitly letting it pass.

But looking at the lotus seeds in the vase, Poppy Hale still felt her face heat up.

She lay on the bed, reaching out to touch her abdomen.

Flat, without a trace of flab, and the scar from the cesarean section a few years ago has healed, leaving only a faint mark.

"If I can’t have more children, will my parents be disappointed?"

When she had Florence Lynch, the doctor already said her body might struggle to conceive again.

At that time, she cried every day, as her grandmother and father died one after another, and Truth Hale was also ill.

Poppy Hale nearly cried a river, eating very little.

With severe morning sickness and a posterior placenta, it was hard to tell she was pregnant until nearly the due date.

Declan Hawthorne took off his coat, pulled Poppy Hale into his arms.

"They won’t. If we have no more children in the future, we’ll just nurture Florence Lynch well and bring in a live-in son-in-law."

After speaking, he added.

"Even if we have more children, we’ll still bring in a live-in son-in-law."

He couldn’t bear the thought of Florence Lynch marrying away from home in the future.

The last time Declan Hawthorne posted a video of Florence Lynch on his personal account, someone in the comments said that such a lovely daughter would make him cry when she gets married.

From that moment, Declan Hawthorne felt uncomfortable.

No, he couldn’t allow it.

He wanted Florence Lynch to bring in a live-in son-in-law.

"Florence Lynch is enough for us; if she likes it, I’ll pass my work to her. If not, I’ll give it to Tristan and the others; there’s always a path."

Declan Hawthorne never felt having only one daughter was a regret.

Of course, if possible, he’d like to have one more daughter.

As for a son, he didn’t even consider it.

An attentive son like Iris Quill could never compare to his sweet, soft daughter.

Poppy Hale blinked, pointing to the lotus seeds beside her.

"But shouldn’t our parents be expecting it?"

"Elders usually wish for lots of children, but it’s better to leave Florence affluent than with siblings. If you want another child, we should try."

Originally talking about having more children, Declan Hawthorne sidetracked the conversation.

In an intimate moment, Declan Hawthorne whispered in Poppy Hale’s ear, with a deep voice.

"Darling, let’s go with the flow."

Whether they had more children or not, they were very satisfied.

Just let everything go naturally; what’s arranged by heaven is always the best.

-

Early the next morning.

When Poppy Hale got up from bed, she felt like she had been run over by a truck.

Everywhere ached.

The truck driver himself was brimming with energy.

Luckily, wearing thick clothes because of the winter and since the old house was a bit far, she could rest on the way.

Just arriving at the old house, Declan Hawthorne nudged Poppy Hale.

Patting her face, he said, "Wake up."

Jackie Barrett and Hugo Hawthorne had already gotten out of the car, waiting for Poppy Hale to get down.

"Sorry, Mom and Dad, I fell asleep."

"Oh, it’s fine. We elderly, standing is good for our bones!"

There was no hint of reproach.