Chapter 57
Ten minutes later, in front of the gates of The Mountain Retreat.
Seren glanced around. Aside from the luxury cars gliding in and out, there wasn’t a single cab in sight.
It was rush hour, and her ride app showed a daunting queue-143 people waiting before her.
She sighed, feeling the full weight of living in a packed, international metropolis like Seaside City. Only now did it really hit her.
Almost on instinct, Seren scrolled through her recent calls and tapped a familiar number.
As the call rang, a wave of déjà vu washed over her. She couldn’t quite recall which day it was, but she remembered fighting with Sheridan, storming out of The Golden Age with her suitcase, unable to get a cab then, too.
Riverbend City, a magnet for tourists, was always crowded, and ride apps were practically useless.
In those days, taxi drivers were notoriously picky. Once, a cab idled at The Golden Age’s curb, but as soon as the driver heard her destination was only a few miles into the city, he dismissed her the fare was too small to bother.
Seren had felt lost and helpless, thumbing through her contacts, only to realize there was no one she could call for help.
“Hello p>
Lennon’s voice cut through her thoughts after just two rings, steady and familiar. Seren blinked, pulled back to reality. “Are you free? Could you come pick me up?” “Give me five minutes. I’ll be there p>
“Okay p>
As she ended the call, Seren was struck by a quiet revelation: being with Lennon had finally shown her what marriage truly meant. In moments of loneliness or helplessness, there was someone she could reach for without thinking, someone to rely on.
It wasn’t like being single, where even in your darkest moments, you had to face everything alone. Worse yet, sometimes your loneliness was brought on by the person beside you like those three years with Sheridan.
Most people say “five minutes” as a vague promise; it usually means ten or more.
Seren lowered her head and idly scrolled through her phone. She realized she still hadn’t saved Lennon’s number in her contacts-now was as good a time as any.
She hesitated over what to call him. “Husband flashed through her mind, but she quickly settled on simply “Lennon.” That other word felt too intimate, almost embarrassing even as a contact name
“I’m here p>
Lennon’s voice sounded right by her ear, low and gentle, as if laced with moonlight.
Seren looked up in surprise. She hadn’t even noticed him approaching; he was already standing beside her.
She glanced at her phone. Only five minutes had passed.
He really was fast.
“Were you already nearby, just waiting for me to call p>
Lennon didn’t deny it. “I finished up early and drove over. This place is pretty
remote-it’s almost impossible to get a cab out here p>
The Mountain Retreat was
technically within the third ring of Seaside City, not exactly the suburbs, But the wealthy preferred peace and quiet, so the development was tucked away, a good walk from any main streets.
They got into the car-Lennon was driving, Seren slipped into the passenger
seat.
She couldn’t help but glance over at
him from time to time. He was
wearing a deep wine-red shirt, calm
and refined, his tong, graceful hands, resting carelessly off the steering wheel with an easy elegance.
Wine-red was a tricky color, but on Lennon it looked unexpectedly good, giving
him an air of mature confidence.
Seren found herself stealing a few extra glances.
Suddenly, she remembered something and turned to ask, “Was it you who told Old Mr. Rutledge I’d come back to The Mountain Retreat p>
Lennon shook his head. “No p>
She studied his profile, the interplay of streetlights and shadows making it hard to read his expression.
Lennon added in an even tone, “I didn’t go out of my way to say anything. After you called, I phoned Old Mr. Rutledge for our usual check-in, and I happened to mention you were back home p>