Falling For My Ex's Dad by Oma Green

Chapter 172: How Long Had He Been Standing There

Clairessa's POV

After sleeping for what felt like forever, I finally dragged myself out of bed. My body still ached faintly, but compared to earlier, I felt stronger. No fever. No chills. Just a craving for fresh air and something cold to drink.

I'd been holed up in that room all day, not just because I needed rest, but because it was easier.

Easier to hide. Easier than running into Adrian and his mission to get me back... or worse, Gabriel and the drama that would unfold when he told the truth.

The idea of running into either of them made my stomach twist, so I figured if I moved quietly enough, I could sneak down to the kitchen, grab a glass of juice, and return before anyone noticed.

My throat was dry, parched even. I glanced at the empty glass on the nightstand and sighed. There was no escaping it—I needed juice.

Slipping quietly out of bed, I padded across the room, easing the door open like it might squeak loud enough to call them both over.

The hallway was empty. Good. I tiptoed my way toward the living area, hoping I could sneak into the kitchen and back before anyone noticed I'd come out of hiding.

I moved quietly past the living room, ducking my head as I reached the kitchen entrance. The smell of something savory hit my nose.

Just juice, Claire. That's it.

But the moment I stepped inside, I stopped in my tracks.

A woman who looked to be in her mid-fifties stood at the stove, stirring something in a large pot.

She turned at the sound of my feet brushing the floor, eyes meeting mine. Her expression, when she noticed me, was one of warm surprise-not the alarm I'd expected.

"Oh! You must be Clairessa," she exclaimed, pausing mid-stir. "I've heard so much about you from Adrian."

I exhaled, relieved. Just her. Not them. "Yes... I am,” I replied cautiously, stepping farther into the kitchen. "And you must be Miss Gretchen? The house manager?"

She chuckled, wiping her hands and moving away from the stove. "That's me. But don't bother with the 'Miss.' Just Gretchen is fine."

"Oh no," I said quickly, a soft grin playing at my lips. "Miss Gretchen feels much more proper. I'll stick to that, if you don't mind."

She laughed, clearly amused. "Well, alright then. I'll let you win that one."

toward the counter, eyeing the pot curiously. "What are you cooking?

a long time since the whole family sat down to

lovely," I

examine me. “Should you be out of bed? How are you feeling, sweetheart? Do you need me to get you

thanks for

came here for a glass of

me off. "Sit down. I'll get

was already at the fridge. "Apple,

"Cranberry."

poured it into a clean glass.

like heaven. "Thank you," I murmured, then

buttered veggies on the side," she said, flipping something in a

around the kitchen with practiced ease. "Is there anything I can help you

no. The bosses will have my head if they find out I let you lift a finger. You're supposed

feel fine," I protested, trying to keep my tone light. "I've been lying in

she replied, pointing a spoon at me, "but I've been working in this house long enough to know

eyes at me, though it was more playful than stern. "Resting means resting, dear. Not sautéing onions and

carrot," I offered. "I promise not

smile tugged at her

setting the juice glass down. "Only

right there-" she motioned to a stool by the counter "-and keep me company. But if I so much as see you with a knife in

"Deal."

time in what felt like forever, the air felt

free conversation to

you worked for the

"Oh, since Adrian

out laughing at the image.

her eyes twinkling with nostalgia. "He was the sweetest little rascal. Always into everything, always pulling pranks on

Pet

the milk. His poor mother nearly had a

laughed again, picturing it so clearly. "Sounds exactly like Adrian. He must

been such a handful."

then. Always dinners together, music in the house, celebrations for the tiniest reasons.