Chapter 64 Both Drink
Time flies, and in the blink of an eye, thirty-three years had passed. Jack raised his glass and clinked it gently with Aimée's. "Tomorrow, be my guide," he said, his meaning clear.
Aimée smiled, understanding Jack's intent. She didn't need to leave, nor did she need any promises. Jack couldn't give love anymore; it seemed he had forgotten how. The love he once had was completely destroyed by what that woman had done. It wasn't that he didn't want to love, but love had become too exhausting.
Following Isabella's advice, Aimée found it effective. Jack no longer resisted her, and they happily drank together. Aimée's cheeks flushed, and a warmth surged through her body, feeling wonderful.
"Jack, another drink," she said, everything going smoothly according to Isabella's plan.
Jack responded softly. Though his words lacked tenderness, at least his eyes no longer held rejection.
Just then, Jack's phone rang. It was his mother calling.
"Mom, are you home yet?"
"Almost there. Just wanted to call you. Aimée is a good girl. I worry you might make her cry again."
"Mom, I won't." Jack might not be able to love anymore, but he wasn't heartless or unfeeling.
Isabella continued chatting with Jack on the phone. Aimée knew Isabella was helping her. Though her hands trembled slightly, she had promised Isabella and would follow through. It wasn't just to make Isabella happy; she deeply loved Jack.
Years ago, if it hadn't been for Emily, Jack might have already been her husband. She had waited for him for five years, the prime and most beautiful years of a woman's life.
Watching Jack engrossed in his conversation with Isabella, Aimée discreetly took out a small paper packet and quickly sprinkled the white powder into Jack's glass, then calmly poured in some brandy.
When Jack hung up, Aimée was gazing thoughtfully out the window at the street. He walked over and smiled apologetically. "Look at me, a grown man, and my mom still worries."
"In a mother's eyes, her child is always a child," Aimée replied.
"So if I have a kid, even when I'm sixty and they're thirty, they'll still be a kid?" Jack joked.
"If you start now, your kid will be thirty-three years younger than you. Your math is terrible," Aimée teased, finally feeling like she was back in the good old days with Jack.
She could be smart, happy, and relaxed around Jack. He liked intelligent women.
That other woman wasn't smart at all. If she had been, she wouldn't have hurt him or ignored his love. She was a foolish woman, foolish to give up on Jack.
Aimée needed to relax. If possible, she wanted to have Jack's child. Then, a wedding would naturally follow.
Jack flashed a charming smile and said casually, "Maybe I do have a kid thirty years younger than me."
"What do you mean?" Aimée asked.
"My kid," he joked, watching Aimée's reaction. But he didn't know that there were indeed two children in the world who were his, thirty years younger than him.
"You're joking again. If you really wanted kids, Isabella wouldn't be nagging you all the time," Aimée said nervously, watching Jack lift his glass. Maybe tonight was the night her dream would come true, to become his woman, a wish she had held for five years.
Just as Jack brought the glass to his lips, he suddenly put it down. "Aimée, you should have some brandy too. That wine is too weak, like juice."
Aimée's heart tightened, fearing he wouldn't drink. But hearing his words, she relaxed. She picked up the empty brandy bottle from the table. "Look, it's all gone. You drank the whole bottle. You still have some in your glass."
"No problem, I'll share with you." Jack didn't hesitate to pour half of his brandy into Aimée's glass. "I'll have more, you have less. How's that?" Just to fulfill his mother's wish.
But he only wanted to do it while drunk, so he wouldn't feel guilty. He knew he couldn't give love, and felt this choice was unfair to Aimée.
Aimée's hand trembled slightly as she raised her glass, knowing what drinking this meant. Maybe it was better this way, at least she wouldn't panic at the crucial moment. She comforted herself, thinking it was fate.
"Jack, cheers!"
"Cheers!"
Their glasses clinked crisply, and they both drank it all. But the drink had already been tampered with by Aimée.
One was unaware.
The other knew all too well, still hoping.
All of this stemmed from love.
But in love, the worst thing is calculation.
Sometimes, calculations really do backfire.
Aimée, with slightly drunken eyes, said, "Jack, I'm tired. Let's go back."
She was afraid, afraid that if they were late, the effects of the drug in their bodies would kick in on the way, and that would be disastrous.
In the hotel lobby, Jack decided to book another room. After all, Aimée's reputation was important.
She wasn't just any woman; the Rolland family's business was on par with the Winston family's, and she had waited for him for five years.
Jack shook his head, suddenly feeling dizzy, not wanting to think about anything anymore.
"Book a room," he said simply.
"Sorry, we're fully booked," the receptionist replied.
"What?" Jack was a bit annoyed. How could it be so coincidental?
"Are you Mr. Winston?" the receptionist asked.
"Yes, I'm Winston."
"Mr. Winston, another Mr. Winston has already booked four rooms. If I'm not mistaken, there are four of you, including this lady."
"Four rooms?" They had only come with three people.
"He said one room was a spare, in case a client needed a last-minute arrangement. If you're booking for this lady, why not let her stay in the spare room? After all, you're together, and I can reserve a room for you tomorrow when someone checks out."
When did Aidan become so considerate? Clearly, there were three of them, but he booked four rooms. "Alright, give me the key cards."
"Sure." The manager rummaged through the drawer and quickly handed over four key cards. "I don't know how Mr. Winston arranged the rooms, nor who stays in which room. Since you're together, I'll give you all four key cards to avoid waking him up to ask."
"Thank you." The manager's service was indeed thoughtful.
By now, Alison and Aidan should be asleep.
Holding the key cards, Jack helped Aimée into the elevator.
His head was getting dizzier, and everything seemed to be spinning.
"Aimée, that brandy is strong," he mumbled, thinking it was just the brandy's aftereffect.
Aimée smiled without saying much. "Jack, we're here. Let's get out."
Stepping out of the elevator, the soft carpet muffled their footsteps.
Jack pulled out the four key cards from his pocket, looked at the numbers, and tried to recall, "Aimée, this room should be unoccupied. You can stay here."
"Thank you." Aimée took the key card.
Watching Aimée enter the room and turn on the lights, he closed the door for her and prepared to go to his own room.
He started counting the room numbers. He had counted them when they arrived: the third room was his (the first was Aidan's, the second was Alison's). But now he forgot his counting order had been disrupted. The first room was now Aimée's, so the second was Aidan's, and his original third room was now Alison's.
He tried to open the door with a key card but couldn't.
He tried another card, and finally, the last one worked.
The room was pitch dark, and Jack didn't turn on the light.