Love Me Back (Amelia and Daniel) novel Chapter 111

Under Daniel’s unblinking gaze, Amelia’s hope quietly withered.

She knew, without a doubt, that there was no way she’d be allowed out today.

She turned and left the kitchen.

The calico cat—Daniel’s precious little tabby—trotted over, weaving circles around her feet. Amelia scooped her up, burying her hands in the soft fur. She managed two absentminded strokes before remembering whose cat this was. All at once, her interest faded. She set the cat down and brushed her hands off, nudging the feline away to amuse herself.

Ten minutes later, Daniel carried over a steaming bowl of soup noodles and set it in front of her.

Amelia kept her eyes on the window, making no move to eat.

“You should try a little. The housekeeper simmered it in chicken broth; I think it’s pretty good.”

Daniel reached for her hand, pressing a fork and spoon into her palm.

The moment he let go, Amelia’s fingers slackened. Right in front of him, she dropped the utensils onto the table.

Daniel felt as if vines were tightening around his chest, making it hard to breathe.

He glanced at the clock. Not even seven yet—there were still more than five hours left. No matter how she protested, he wasn’t letting her leave before then.

“Eat if you want. If you don’t—well, missing a meal won’t kill you.”

Amelia acted as if she hadn’t heard a word, her expression as blank as porcelain.

Daniel placed a clean set of silverware on top of the soup bowl and walked away.

Amelia curled up with a throw pillow by the window, her gaze distant, so still she seemed almost like a doll left on display.

Time slipped by. At some point, the calico leapt onto the couch, nudging Amelia’s hand with her fuzzy head.

Some spark of life flickered in Amelia’s eyes at last. She looked down. “What is it?”

Daniel smirked and handed her a wet wipe. “Clean your hands before you eat.”

Amelia took it with a blank face. “I’ll get the cat her food first.”

Daniel snapped his fingers at the calico, and the little cat instantly perked up, trotting after him for her breakfast.

Watching them go, Amelia thought to herself, A man like that with a cat like her—truly, birds of a feather.

Daniel returned, hands freshly washed. He could tell Amelia wasn’t in the mood for conversation and wisely kept quiet, eating his breakfast in peace.

By the time they finished, the clock read half past seven.

Amelia glanced at the wall clock, then stood and walked into the kitchen.

Daniel, unhurried as ever, was loading the dishes into the dishwasher. Even the way he handled a porcelain bowl—long fingers, practiced ease—looked like something out of a commercial.