Time-Limited Love: A Contract Expired, Not Renewed novel Chapter 12

The moment Connor saw tears welling up in Noelle’s eyes, he started to panic.

“Noelle, don’t cry! Everyone has their own strengths. You’re so sweet and adorable. Everyone likes you for who you are. There’s no need to compare yourself to anyone else.”

Everyone in their group knew about Noelle’s depression, and they were always careful with their words, afraid something might upset her and trigger another episode.

“Right, Landon? Say something to cheer her up,” Connor urged, glancing at Landon in the rearview mirror.

Landon, just as worried about Noelle’s mental state, jumped in immediately. “Hey, it’s okay. Don’t cry. Zinnia’s great with books, but you’re an amazing dancer. Everyone has their own thing. Trust me, Zinnia could never pull off the moves you can. Don’t sell yourself short.”

Connor nodded in agreement. “Exactly, Noelle! You’re our little princess. Even if you never learn anything else in your life, with us around, you’ll still be treated like royalty.”

Noelle managed a watery smile, her tears quickly replaced by a soft laugh. “Thank you, Landon, thank you, Connor. I know I can be a little silly sometimes, but I’m lucky to have you both looking out for me. You make me really happy.”

Up front in the passenger seat, a girl who’d been quiet this whole time finally couldn’t resist rolling her eyes.

What an act.

Did she just escape from a chicken coop? Always clucking for attention.

Crying at the drop of a hat, always bringing up her depression. Since when do decent people cling to someone else’s husband every time something goes wrong? People like her are why depression gets such a bad rap.

Thank goodness she wasn’t that naïve—she only cared about Connor’s money. If she ever got feelings involved, she’d end up just as miserable as Landon’s wife, stuck suffering in silence.

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Meanwhile, Zinnia took a cab back to their apartment at Royal Bay, the sprawling place they’d moved into after getting married.

She let herself in, greeted by the spotless shine of a house that was cleaned daily by a professional who came in just for a few hours. Landon didn’t like strangers living under their roof, so despite the massive apartment, it was just the two of them. The housekeeper only handled meals and cleaning, never stayed overnight.

Usually, when he was out for work events, she’d send a quick text reminding him not to drink too much, or at least to eat something so his stomach wouldn’t pay the price later.

By this time of night, Zinnia would have already messaged him. But now, except for that curt “Sorry” earlier in the morning, his phone had been silent.

Landon frowned, a dull ache settling in his chest.

“You’ve been staring at your phone all night. Waiting for Zinnia to text you?” came a teasing voice as the sofa dipped beside him.

It was Chandler Morrison, eldest son of the Morrison family and Landon’s oldest friend.

Hearing Chandler’s voice, Landon instinctively turned off his phone and, trying to sound casual, shook his head. “No, I’m not.”

Chandler chuckled softly, as if he didn’t believe a word, then kept talking as if he hadn’t heard Landon at all.