Accidentally Pregnant After Divorcing The Billionaire (Jonathan and Teresa) novel Chapter 404

Chapter 404

It wasn’t until trene left that Teresa finally let out a quiet curse. If Irene weren’t her mother–in–law, Jonathan’s mom, she would’ve lost her temper aget ago, But all she could do was sigh.

Left alone at home, Teresa sat silently on the sofa. She pulled out her phone and glanced at the contact saved as Hubby.

She remembered Jonathan telling her this morning that he’d be out with his boss for work. In the end, she didn’t call him.

“Miriam,” she said, dialing her best friend.

“What’s up, Teresa? You sound kind of down,” Miriam answered.

Teresa sniffled. “It’s nothing, really. I’m just bored being home alone. When are you coming over? I’ll take you to a bar with live music.”

“Well, are you gonna sing when you get drunk? You know you’re totally tone–deaf, right?” Miriam asked.

Teresa laughed. “That’s fine, I’ll just listen to you sing. Or maybe we can invite Benny. I haven’t talked to him in forever. Wonder if he’s free.”

“Ugh, I’m working these days. Let’s chat later, okay?” There was a burst of noise on Miriam’s end, someone calling her at work. “Teresa, I gotta go. If you need anything, just text me. I’ll come find you later.”

“Alright, get back to work,” Teresa said, hanging up with a sigh.

She was married now, not like single Miriam. She couldn’t go to Miriam for everything, and she didn’t want to dump her negative feelings about home on her, either. After all, Jonathan really did treat her well.

It was just that sometimes there wasn’t even anyone to talk to at home.

Just then, Jonathan texted Teresa. [Honey, I’m meeting with Peter for business. I’ll be home late.]

Teresa replied to him, asking what time he’d be back.

Jonathan didn’t answer right away. An hour later, he called. “Sorry, I was having dinner with clients and saw your message late. Are you mad?”

“No, I just wanted to ask. Should I go ahead and wash the dishes?” Teresa asked.

“No need. I’ll do them when I get back. If you’re tired, just go to bed. Don’t wait for me,” Jonathan said.

She was only halfway through the dishes, struggling with her injured finger when the door opened.

Jonathan had just gotten home when he saw Teresa doing the dishes. He frowned, changed his shoes at the entryway, and walked over to her with concern written all over his face.

“Didn’t I tell you not to do anything? Your hand’s still not healed. Let me see,” he said, gently taking her bandaged hand.