Second Chance: Marrying into Wealth Chapter 142

I was a bit annoyed when I said that.

Christopher could be pretty patient with me sometimes, even though he had a bit of a temper. But now he was being stubborn.

The cashier was watching us, and I felt my face heat up under her gaze.

Forget it, he had got money to spare anyway, so I didn't insist.

While he was paying, I grabbed a disposable cup, filled it with warm water, and handed him two pills. "Take these while the water's still warm. It'll help your stomach feel better."

Christopher's fingers brushed against my palm as he took the pills and swallowed them with the water. Then he casually asked, "You went straight for that box on the top shelf. Have you studied stomach issues?"

I replied without thinking, "Yeah, Lawrence once had a stomach bleed from drinking, so I learned a lot about it…"

Halfway through, I realized what I was saying and stopped. I had mentioned Lawrence again. I shut my mouth.

Christopher didn't say anything, but he squeezed the paper cup in his hand, deforming it and spilling water on his hand and sleeve.

I hated Lawrence, and Christopher probably thought I was stupid because of him, and that was why my parents died. So he hated Lawrence too, which was why he reacted so strongly.

It was all my fault. I quickly pulled out some tissues to wipe Christopher's hand, but he had already thrown the cup into the trash and was walking out with his long strides.

Sensing he was upset, I hurried after him. He was a bit drunk, so I couldn't let him walk alone on the street.

Luckily, he calmed down quickly and got into the car.

To change the subject, I brought up Biscuit. “Mr. Collins…”

"What did you call me?" Christopher's sharp gaze shot at me, and I thought I detected a hint of hurt in his eyes. It must have been my imagination.

But I realized I had called him the wrong name. He had corrected me several times. I quickly changed it. "Christopher, sorry, I'm just used to calling you that at work. Can you tell me what symptoms Biscuit has?"

"He's lethargic, throws up everything he eats, and his stool is loose. He usually gets excited about his food, but today he's not eating much."

As he recalled, I nodded, understanding the situation. "I think I have the right medicine at home. I'll bring it over later."

Christopher looked at me and asked, "You seem to know a lot about dogs."

I smiled. "Not really, but you know Paula has a dog. When she's away, I often check on it, take it for walks, and sometimes ask the pet store owner downstairs for advice. He said I'm so patient that if I worked at a pet store, the animals would love me."

Actually, he also said that kind-hearted people were usually liked by pets.

Talking about dogs, I felt a bit proud. "I have a Golden Retriever now, and I've learned a lot about dogs to take care of him, so I probably know more than you."

Christopher didn't seem embarrassed. I knew he didn't have time to study these things, but he had a housekeeper, so it wasn't a big deal.

Talking made the time pass quickly, and soon we were at the gate of his villa. I asked, "Is your stomach feeling better?"

Christopher nodded. "The medicine works well."

I was relieved. I had planned to have the driver take Christopher home to rest while I fetched the medicine, but Christopher had the car drive to my place instead. He waited in the car.

When I opened the door, my Golden Retriever heard the noise and wagged its tail excitedly. It followed me everywhere, rubbing its furry head against me, melting my heart.

When I came out with the medicine, it followed me, holding its leash in its mouth, wanting to go for a walk.

I had planned to tell Christopher how to use the medicine and then walk my dog.

But when I opened the car door, I saw Christopher leaning back with his eyes closed, looking exhausted. I wasn't sure if he was asleep.

“Sir, I'll walk my dog. Why don't you take Christopher home first? I'll catch up in a bit," I whispered to the driver.

But Christopher opened his eyes. He wasn't asleep. His voice was hoarse and weak. "I don't really know what to do. Could you come up and check on Biscuit? Bring your Golden Retriever too."

"Sure!" Since he asked and looked so tired, I didn't refuse.

Luckily, my Golden Retriever was well-behaved. I lifted it into the car, and it lay quietly in my lap, melting my heart. I couldn't help but rub its head. It nuzzled my palm in return.

Christopher seemed amused and watched us for a while.

I wanted to tell him that his dog would be just as well-behaved once it got better.

But before I could say anything, we arrived at his place. The car door opened, and my Golden Retriever jumped out eagerly.

Christopher opened the door, and my dog, not shy at all, ran inside, sniffing out Biscuit.

My Golden Retriever seemed to sense Biscuit's condition and nuzzled it, then looked up at me with big eyes.

Biscuit looked worse than I expected. I suggested to Christopher, "Biscuit seems pretty bad. We should take him to the vet right away."

Christopher agreed and tried to pick up Biscuit, but he winced and looked unwell.

"What's wrong?" I asked, worried.

"Not feeling great. Could you take Biscuit to the vet?" Christopher's voice was weak.

Hearing his frail voice, I couldn't refuse.

I looked at the driver, thinking of asking him to take us.

But Christopher seemed to anticipate this. "Biscuit is scared of the driver."

The driver had a scar on his face, which made him look intimidating, though he was a good person.

Seeing Christopher like this, I couldn't refuse. "Is Biscuit not afraid of me?"

Christopher thought for a moment. "I'll stay with it in the car. Once we're at the vet, I'll need your help."

Without waiting for my response, he took Biscuit to the car.

I was speechless. I didn't quite understand Christopher's actions.

But Biscuit was unwell and shouldn't be stressed, so I got back in the car with Christopher and headed to the nearest vet.

My Golden Retriever watched Biscuit intently. I thought I should get Biscuit used to me. "Hi, Biscuit, I'm the Golden Retriever's mom. Don't be scared of me!"

Christopher looked at me with a complex expression, making me feel a bit embarrassed.