The Year I Was the Other Woman To Myself novel Chapter 50

“Don’t you run from me! Get back here!” she yelled at the imaginary butterfly.

Seeing her teetering precariously, the old man cried out to his son. “Catch her before she falls!”

Theodore glanced at the time. If it weren’t so late, he would have called the police.

“Whoa!”

Penelope finally lost her balance. Fearing she would crack her head open on the marble floor, Theodore rushed forward. He meant to steady her, but his hand accidentally brushed against something soft. He instinctively recoiled, and in that split second, she latched onto him like a limpet.

To make matters worse, her face collided with his, her lips landing squarely on his. The pungent smell of alcohol filled his mouth.

His face darkening, Theodore tried to push her away, but she clung to him, her head resting on his shoulder.

“Mmm, you smell nice…” she murmured.

He shot a murderous glare at Mr. Johnson, who cleared his throat awkwardly. “Why don’t you, uh, carry her upstairs? I’m just going to… head to bed.”

With that, he started to flee.

“If you ever want grandchildren, you will never let her drink again,” Theodore called after him.

His father paused. “I thought you said you weren’t going to marry her. Why do you care if she drinks?”

Theodore’s eyes narrowed. “Do you have another candidate in mind?”

“Penelope is the only one. She’s the best, the one who’s perfect for you.”

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