The Year I Was the Other Woman To Myself novel Chapter 148

Lost in the haze of passion, Penelope looked up at Theodore. He told her to trust him, and in that moment, she did.

After a night of intimacy that left her feeling completely undone, Theodore carried her to the shower and then tucked her into his large bed.

“We’ll get the license tomorrow morning,” he said, helping her sip some water.

“Okay,” she murmured from under the covers, her voice soft and languid.

“After we’re married, you’ll move in with the old man.”

“What about you?”

“I’ll come back when I’m not busy.”

Penelope thought for a moment. “You’re a man of great importance, I understand completely. I shall wait patiently there for your occasional visit.”

Theodore chuckled. “See yourself as a wife now?”

“Mmph.”

As she spoke, she grabbed her phone, opened her calendar, and circled several dates. She took a screenshot and sent it to him.

“To ensure our collaboration is a success and you don’t waste your efforts,” the accompanying message read, “please note these dates. This is my fertile window. You may choose to come home on one of these days.”

Her actions were bold, her words direct, but the tone was so clinically professional that it was comical.

Theodore leaned down and gently bit her lower lip. “This,” he whispered, “is also a waste of effort.”

“Then why are you still kissing me!”

“It’s like drinking or smoking,” he said. “An addiction.”

Theodore had already scheduled an appointment at the registrar’s office, so they were seen almost immediately upon arrival. While they were waiting, he stepped away to take a call, and Penelope’s phone rang. It was Mrs. Sullivan.

“Where are you?” she demanded, her voice sharp with anger.

Penelope raised an eyebrow. “Do I need to report my whereabouts to you?”

The clerk meticulously verified her marital status before proceeding. A few minutes later, the new marriage certificate was in her hands. Penelope examined it closely. It certainly looked a lot more real than her fake one.

“You promised me the rest of your day,” she said, turning to Theodore.

He had just lit a cigarette. “So, how do you plan to use my time?”

A sly grin spread across her face. “Oh, I plan to make the most of it.”

An hour later, they arrived at a cemetery.

After getting out of the car, Penelope found a thick, sturdy tree branch, hoisted it onto her shoulder, and marched grimly toward the entrance.

Theodore watched her, surrounded by rows of tombstones, and wondered who on earth she was about to get into a fight with.

A cold wind blew through the trees, carrying an eerie chill.

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