I looked down and said nothing.
Neil was probably able to tell that I did not want to answer and hurriedly said, “I’m sorry.”
I gave him a shallow smile. “It’s alright. It’s just very complicated.”
“Why don’t you stay for dinner? It just so happens that I have groceries in my fridge.”
“Oh, I couldn’t.”
“Didn’t you help me clean the house, Miss Lane? There’s no need to be courteous,” he replied before getting up and heading into the kitchen.
I felt too embarrassed to remain seated in the living room seeing him busy himself in the kitchen. “Let me help you.”
Neil did not refuse me and just nodded. “Alright. Please chop up the scallions for me. I’ll handle the fish.”
“Alright.”
I did not cook often, but I still had some experience. Back when I lived in Theo's villa, I would also cook for him.
I could not help feeling a little sentimental after suddenly recalling the past. Pursing my mouth, I forcibly yanked that memory out of my mind.
At a glance, I could tell that Neil cooked frequently. His movements were skillful. Even the fish, which was not easy to handle, seemed like a piece of cake to him.
“Do you cook often, Mr. Hendersohn?” I threw him a glance.
“I got a teacher to teach me how to cook back when I was a student to chase after this girl. Too bad nothing came out of that relationship,” Neil sounded optimistic when he said this. It was like he had not taken the matter to heart.
It was probably the pleasant emotions of one’s youth. Recalling those old memories made one feel good and would not incur sentimentality.
“You don’t look very old, Mr. Hendersohn.”
“I'm 30.” Neil smiled. There was a sense of sadness on his face when he mentioned his age.
Did men care about age?
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