Chapter 42
Sitting in the car, neither Oscar nor I spoke. Only the car stereo played softly in our ears, making the atmosphere a bit less awkward.
The window was cracked open slightly. I tilted my head back, letting the cold air from the gap blow on my face, hoping it would clear my somewhat dizzy head and disperse the essence of alcohol in the air between us.
I still tried to break the awkwardness. "After the reception, I just went to a private room with Ralph's daughter and a few other ladies to chat. I only sat there for less than half an hour before coming out. Jeremy also wanted to leave quickly, so he told them he'd take me home..."
I regretted it immediately. Was it really necessary to explain all this to him? As if I'd actually done something wrong.
Oscar suddenly jerked the steering wheel. The abrupt movement made my body lean toward the car door. I quickly grabbed the handle, startled, and watched him pull the car over to the side of the road.
"You're calling him quite affectionately, Emily. If I hadn't come to pick you up, were you and that actor about to move to another location?" The smile had long disappeared from Oscar's face, and his eyes were filled with suppressed anger as he looked at me.
"What are you talking about?" The guilt I'd felt earlier vanished completely because of his accusation, and even my tipsiness mostly cleared up. "Didn't I just tell you? I was getting ready to go home. He said he'd give me a ride. What other location could we possibly go to? Why don't you just say we were going to get a hotel room?"
"You were going to get a hotel room with him?" Oscar's eyes widened even more.
"Can't you understand what I'm saying?" This was ridiculous. Was I saying I wanted to get a hotel room?
"And—" I looked directly into his scrutinizing gaze. "Even if I wanted to get a hotel room with someone, it shouldn't be any of your business, right? We're fake. I've said this many times already."
I thought saying this would make him even angrier, and I was even prepared to hit him back hard if he dared to lay a hand on me. Even though I was a bit tipsy, beating him up would still be easy.
But unexpectedly, his angry expression slowly faded away, gradually turning into dejection—an expression that shouldn't appear on his face, now magnifying bit by bit before my eyes.
This made me somewhat regretful, and I instantly wondered if I'd spoken too harshly just now.
"Oscar—" If it came down to it, I'd apologize to him.
"I'm sorry." Surprisingly, it was Oscar who first spoke these words of apology.
He took a deep breath, his thin lips pressed tightly together. His beautiful eyes lacked their usual brightness. He looked out the car window, where the distant streetlights couldn't cast much light, and he could clearly see both our faces reflected in the window.
Slowly turning his head, he continued in a low voice: "Emily, I was too impulsive just now. I'm sorry."
This left me somewhat at a loss. If it were a fight, I could respond instantly, but how was I supposed to handle him apologizing first?
"No, it's also my fault for not telling you clearly beforehand. Even if you hadn't come to pick me up, I was going home anyway. I wasn't planning to let him take me. Nina brought me here, and I was ready to just call a cab." Since he'd lowered his attitude, I quickly explained everything clearly too.
Oscar looked at me again, his face still full of dejection: "Everything I told you before—did you think I was just joking?"
I was a bit confused: "What?"
Oscar unbuckled his seatbelt and took a deep breath: "What I want to tell you is, my dad talked to me again about us getting married. I've thought about it seriously, and maybe we need to modify the agreement we signed before."
I frowned and looked over: "What do you mean?"
Oscar forced a smile. "I mean, they want to keep me stable, so they'll want to rush me into marriage. You're a daughter-in-law my father is very satisfied with, so he pushed me about marriage again today. I have no objections. If you have any other conditions, you can bring them up. I won't shortchange you."
I felt like laughing. Was there something wrong with Oscar's brain? I didn't lack money or capability. Did I need to use a marriage to get things I already had?
"Do you think marriage is something that can be traded?"
Oscar shook his head with a frown: "It's not a trade, I..."
He seemed hesitant to speak, his expression like he was constipated: "What I mean is, I'm willing to marry you. From any perspective, I would also be your best choice."
I suddenly understood what he meant. He wanted to marry me, but didn't dare say he liked me—only dared to talk about the benefits.
Probably because he knew I'd long stopped believing in love.
Or maybe it wasn't just me who didn't believe in love. Because of his family background, he didn't believe in love either.
I avoided his gaze, turning to look out the window, my voice light and weak: "I think things are fine as they are now. Let's go back. I drank a bit and I'm feeling dizzy now. I want to go back and rest."
In the reflection on the glass, I could see the expression on his face gradually disappear, the disappointment clearly visible. He reached out his hand, wanting to touch me, but in the end, only carefully adjusted my slipping dress upward, then slowly withdrew his hand.
The music in the car continued playing—a sad song.
After a sigh, Oscar buckled his seatbelt again, gently turned the steering wheel, and drove the car back in the original direction.
He turned down the music a bit, saying in a self-mocking tone: "This playlist is a bit old-fashioned."
I didn't say anything; my thoughts still lingered on what he'd just said about being willing to marry me.
The atmosphere was awkward. Oscar kept touching his nose: "Actually, the reason I came over was that Sophia called Gregory to come pick her up, and also said you were there, said... You went to a hotel, private room with someone else. She wanted to call you to come back together but didn't dare, so I came over."
When he mentioned Sophia, I finally nodded: "She said that on purpose for you to hear, right?"
Oscar continued: "But when I arrived, Gregory hadn't left yet. He originally wanted to wait for you, but when he saw me come, he left. I'm telling you this to say, don't cross the line. No matter what, you need to protect yourself. You're not alone—you have me."
"Are you afraid Gregory would actually do something to me?" I turned my head to look at him and smiled. "Don't worry, I'm not that weak."
Oscar opened his mouth as if to say something, but in the end fell silent again. He just took out a thermos from the side and handed it to me: "Drink some hot water. It'll make your stomach feel better. Don't go out drinking next time. No matter how strong you are, you're still a woman."
I took the thermos from his hand and took a sip. The water temperature was just right—not too hot, not too cold: "Thanks, drinking some water makes me feel much better."
Oscar glanced at me from the corner of his eye, touched his nose, and said in a very casual manner: "Also, those actors just sing and dance. That guy from earlier wasn't even that good-looking. If you really want to look at handsome guys, I'm not ugly either."
I turned my head in surprise, only to see Oscar's face turn red, as if he were drunk.