Chapter 188 Change to Liking Him?
Just then the seafood congee arrived. Nason ladled a bowl for her. "Eat something first. Don't wreck your stomach."
Juliana stared at the steaming bowl. "I'm not hungry."
"So you just want to drink? You think drinking yourself to death will make Wentworth suddenly fall for you? I saw how it was in that hospital room—he barely even looked at you."
Juliana went quiet.
"Well, Matty didn't really look at you either."
"Let's not trash each other here." Nason pushed the bowl closer. "Eat. After you finish, I'll take you somewhere that'll actually help blow off steam."
"Really?"
"Of course."
Juliana listened and started on the congee.
They'd been inseparable since getting back to the country. Nason went along with her chaos, drinking together every night. So she figured tonight he'd take her to some bar, hit the dance floor.
She took his advice. The hot, fragrant porridge awakened her appetite, and she ended up eating some barbecue too.
When they finished, she said, "I'm stuffed. Let's go drinking."
Nason smiled and started driving. But not to a bar—to an amusement park.
Juliana stared at the giant cartoon statues at the entrance. "Have you been binge-watching rom-coms? You brought me here to ride kiddie rides? This is not stress relief."
"We just ate. I'm not talking about rides. I want to take you on that Ferris wheel—the tallest one."
"What's so great about a Ferris wheel?"
"Don't know. Maybe we'll find out."
Nason paid extra for VIP tickets, and they boarded.
The thing moved like a snail. Juliana lost interest immediately. Drinking seemed way better.
But as the wheel climbed and half the city's lights spread out before them, something clicked. The more you see, the smaller everything else becomes.
People get trapped because they see too little. Limited vision traps them in problems they can't escape—especially romantic ones.
Higher and higher they went. Everything below shrank. The skyscrapers she usually craned her neck to see—now she looked down on them.
After being rescued, she'd decided to hide her feelings for Wentworth. But hiding them hurt. So she drank to drown the pain, trying to shake off those aching feelings.
Now she realized—maybe she could just face her emotions. Not hide them, not fight them. Just let them exist. Maybe they'd intensify. Maybe one day they'd fade.
Her mind settled. Even without alcohol, her heart no longer felt frantic.
She leaned against the railing, quietly watching the view below.
When they descended, she asked, "These past few days drinking with me—were you trying to forget Matty?"
"Half and half," Nason said.
"What's the other half?"
That careless expression again. "Because you're gorgeous, obviously."
Juliana laughed. "Aren't you only interested in competing with the Gonzaga brothers? I'm someone Wentworth doesn't want. No reason to hang around me."
"Just because they don't want something doesn't mean it's not good."
Juliana's smile froze. She looked at him. He looked back.
That night she got drunk and climbed a telephone pole. He couldn't stop her, so he just stayed below, worried she'd fall. And she did—right into his arms.
Her body was so soft. Everything perfectly proportioned, really.
He'd exercised serious self-control not to take advantage.
He couldn't say he really liked her, but he didn't dislike her either. Sometimes he found her cute. And she liked Wentworth.
Suddenly he wondered—if he could make her fall for him instead, wouldn't that be some kind of victory? After all, women only fell for other men when they met someone better.
...
Wentworth filed for permission to bring his spouse to the base. Approval came quickly.
Military family housing was in the city with some restrictions, but nothing major. Matilda could relocate anytime.
Matilda processed her resignation and got a reference letter from the director.
Dr. Parker, thoroughly brainwashed by Dr. Cox, genuinely saw Matilda as a ticking time bomb—like mercenaries might storm in and blow up the hospital any second.
When Matilda left, he was thrilled.
She couldn't figure it out. Workplace relationships weren't deep, but shouldn't people at least pretend to be sorry when someone resigned? Why were they so happy? Like they were getting rid of the plague.
Resigning was definitely the right call. A place this heartless wasn't worth missing.
...
That evening, Amelia visited.
Knowing her son was okay and too lazy to deal with Matilda, she came less often now. Mainly because Wentworth wouldn't listen—recovered and still wanting to go back.
She wished he'd retire. Even doing nothing at home, at least he'd be alive. But he wouldn't listen. Got himself a wife and forgot his mother.
"Mom, you're here." Matilda stayed respectful in Amelia's presence.
Amelia grunted without looking at her, placing expensive fruit on the bedside table.
"Feeling better?"
"Much better, thanks, Mom."
"Does it still hurt?"
Wentworth lifted his shirt to show her. Healed pretty well. He'd been walking around the past couple days.
Amelia sighed. "You really think you're made of iron. Always getting holes shot through you or gashed open."
Wentworth chuckled. "It is pretty resilient. Don't worry—what doesn't kill you makes you stronger. Nothing but good fortune ahead. Maybe next time I come back, Matty and I will have a kid."
"You two?" Amelia caught something. "You're having her follow you to the base?"