Don't Mess with the Girl with Candy novel Chapter 1456

"It is pretty good."

Harold tilted his head slightly as his eyes locked onto Lorelei's face, a wicked smirk playing on his lips. "Strawberry is great. We're sticking with this from now on."

Lychee was both foul-smelling and repulsive.

"Oh."

Unsure if he was just putting on an act for an audience, she played along obediently.

Watching the display, Joel's expression darkened. He stood up. "I'm going to the restroom."

"Okay." Lorelei offered him a polite, practiced smile.

Harold stared at her, practically grinding his teeth into dust.

Why was she smiling at him?

She looked as cheerful as a golden retriever!

"I need to use the restroom too." Harold stood up as well.

Before leaving, he draped his jacket over her shoulders. "The AC is blasting. Don't catch a cold."

"Thank you."

Lorelei clutched the fabric, her emotions swirling wildly.

She had to admit, he was incredibly chivalrous.

Even though she had humiliated him into this marriage, he had always treated her with basic decency, both at home and in public.

True.

He was perfect in every way—except he didn't love her.

If he had just been a little worse...

Leaving him wouldn't be this agonizing.

Wait.

Heartbreak shouldn't be her primary concern right now.

Lorelei glanced nervously in the direction the two men had vanished, her brow furrowing.

Were they going to brawl in the bathroom?

Did they have some ancient blood feud she didn't know about?

In the restroom.

If Joel knew she was miserable, why hadn't he come back when the scandals first broke?

If he had shown up, maybe Harold would have let her go.

He had three entire years...

Countless opportunities to take her away—and he hadn't taken a single one.

Now that Harold had absolutely no intention of letting her go, this guy suddenly decided to play the knight in shining armor.

Joel felt a flash of indignation, barely having time to process the insult.

"Even if I'm not a saint, I'm infinitely better than a piece of garbage like you."

Harold glared at him, looking ferocious enough to commit murder.

Joel met his stare head-on, his presence just as commanding.

Just as the tension reached a boiling point, a waitress timidly poked her head into the doorway. "Um, Mr. Houston? Your wife is getting a bit anxious. She asked me to check on you."

"Got it."

Harold replied coolly, reigning in his hostility, but before walking out, he threw one last warning over his shoulder. "When you miss your chance, it's gone. You don't have a shot."