Regret Came Too Late (Grace and Ethan) novel Chapter 210

Grace sat down next to Ethan and carefully used a wet wipe to clean his plate and utensils.

Just sitting there in silence while waiting felt a bit awkward, so she tried to initiate a conversation.

"Mr. Henderson, are you still having trouble sleeping lately? I've noticed that your dark circles have lightened significantly. Did you find a more effective sleeping pill?"

His complexion had indeed improved over the past few days, and even the cold, distant aura he usually exuded seemed to have softened considerably.

Ethan looked at the bowl she handed over to him and responded with a soft hum.

Grace figured it was really hard to have a proper conversation with him. His favorite thing to say had always been a hum in response.

Just then, the silence was broken as Joanne started serving them the dishes.

When she saw the eight dishes she brought over, Grace thought it was a bit much, so she pulled Joanne over to sit with them and eat together.

But Joanne quickly glanced at Ethan and declined.

"No, thanks. I'm afraid Mr. Henderson might not be comfortable with it."

Grace suddenly recalled that Ethan used to eat with small individual dishes at home. Even back at Henderson Residence, everyone would use serving tongs. She had been careless.

She quickly picked up an unused fork, served some food onto a small plate, and smiled sweetly at him.

"Is this okay?" Grace asked.

Ethan didn't say anything, so Grace then boldly pulled Joanne down to sit with them.

Joanne ate very cautiously, taking one small bite at a time. Every time her sight landed on him, she quickly looked away.

Grace could understand why Joanne behaved like that. After all, someone with an identity like Ethan would make anyone feel intimidated, especially since Joanne worked at Velvet Eclipse—he was her top client there. There was no way she would dare to act recklessly.

The whole meal was awkward and quiet. When she saw that Ethan was eating slowly and elegantly, Grace quickly poured him a glass of orange juice.

"Mr. Henderson, would you like some orange juice? I heard the owner squeezed it himself."

The glass was small, and their fingertips inevitably touched.