Westley You Are Late Chapter 33
In the end, Leo took financial responsibility for the child.
He did not marry Sofia.
That group of friends who had once gathered around Westley, mocking my “fake” marriage certificate, slowly drifted apart.
A few of them sent me messages, apologizing.
Others claimed they had only been joking and told me not to take it so seriously.
I didn’t reply to a single one.
A late apology is like late-arriving concern—it serves only to make the giver feel better.
It has nothing to do with the person who was wronged.
The day the project officially launched, I went to the hospital for my annual check-up.
Thatcher sat in the waiting room, a file open on his lap, though he hadn’t turned a page in ten minutes.
The moment I stepped out of the doctor’s office, he shot to his feet.
“Well?”
I deliberately furrowed my brow and said nothing.
His expression changed instantly.
The next second, he was moving toward the door to confront the doctor.
I quickly grabbed his arm.
“Everything’s normal. I’m fine.”
He stopped.
After studying my face for a few seconds, he gave me a smile that was all teeth.
“Brielle.”
I took a cautious step back.
“I just wanted to see if you were nervous.”
“And were you?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“Good. Then it’s my turn.”
Before I could react, he scooped me into his arms.
There were still people in the hallway.
I quickly wrapped my arms around his neck, hiding my face.
“Put me down.”
“No.”
“Thatcher.”
“The doctor said everything is normal.” He lowered his head, his lips close to my ear. “Doesn’t that mean I get to collect payment for the scare you just gave me?”
Trying to suppress a laugh, I buried my face in his shoulder.
When we reached the elevator, he suddenly stopped.
“Brielle.”
“Hmm?”
“I’m coming with you to every single one of these appointments from now on.”
I looked up at him.
He didn’t say “if “. He didn’t say “in case “.
He was simply telling me that next time, and every time after, he would be there.
I nodded.
“Okay.”