When fate plays its hand

Chapter 0781

Paul cleared his throat and said awkwardly, “…I haven’t had dinner yet.”

Miranda noticed his cars turning red and couldn’t help but laugh, though she quickly stifled it to avoid making him feel more embarrassed.

“How about some pasta?” she suggested.

He nodded. “That would be great, thanks.”

“Okay. Sit down and relax. I’ll make it now.”

In addition to the pasta, Miranda fried an egg, added some vegetables, and sliced a few pieces of homemade braised beef that Lionel had made. She layered the beef on top, then finished the dish with a sprinkle of rosemary herbs.

The pasta was ready in no time, and she brought it over to the table. “Dr. Jefferson, it’s done. Come eat.”

Paul sat down and dug in. He was clearly starving. After all, the pasta was delicious.

She rested her chin on her hand and watched him eat. She hadn’t expected a grown man to look so graceful while eating.

He ate in large bites but without being rude. His expression was serious, and his focus was entirely on the food. Anyone who didn’t know him might think he was savoring a gourmet

meal.

“Why are you staring at me like that?” Paul glanced up and met her gaze. He quickly swallowed the mouthful of pasta.

“Because watching you eat tells me exactly how good my pasta is. If you’re enjoying it this much, it must be really good,” she said.

Paul’s ears turned red, though thankfully it wasn’t very noticeable. Only he could tell. ” You’re making fun of me.”

“Not at all. I’m giving you a compliment,” Miranda replied. Any chef would be thrilled to see someone enjoy their food this much.

He nodded. “They really are delicious.”

Her face lit up. “I’m so glad you like it. Is the lab keeping you busy? You didn’t even have time for dinner?”

Paul thought for a moment before answering. “Not really. It’s about the same as usual. But I

…

Well, I just didn’t feel like cooking. I’m not great at it, and when I do, it never tastes as good as it should.”

+25 BONUS

Chapter 0781

He realized, in the end, he’d gotten spoiled by her cooking.

Halfway through his meal, he paused and suddenly asked, “Do you have alcohol?

any

She was momentarily taken aback. She’d always been the one to ask Paul if he wanted a drink, and he had always turned her down. Not only did he not drink, but he also never let her have any. But tonight, he had asked her if she had alcohol.

He seemed a bit different tonight, though she couldn’t quite pinpoint what exactly had changed. After a brief pause, she stood up. “I have some beer in the fridge. I’ll get it for you.

“Thanks.”

Miranda returned with two cans of beer. Paul watched her as she moved. “Are you having some too?”

She shook her head. “I’ll just have a small glass. The rest is for you.”

She returned to the kitchen, quickly grabbed a small glass, and set it in front of him with a teasing smile. “You wouldn’t mind sharing, right?”

Paul chuckled. “Of course not. I’ll share anything.” He poured her a drink. “Is this enough?

“I

“Yes, that’s enough.”

The cold beer slid down her throat. Its chill sank into her stomach and caused Miranda to shiver involuntarily.

Paul watched her with a smile, then took a long drink from his can.

Soon, he had finished his pasta, and the plate was spotless. The two cans of beer were almost gone, with only a small amount left in Miranda’s glass.

Feeling a little tipsy, Paul–usually so reserved and quiet–found himself talking more than usual.