A little over ten days later, the school announced the date for the new teacher evaluations: this Wednesday.
On Wednesday, Holly Winslow got up around 6:40 a.m. to shower and wash her hair, then imdiately started rummaging through her closet for sothing to wear.
’At tis like this, it always feels like I have nothing suitable to wear.’
Mortir Quincy sat up in bed, leaning drowsily against the headboard. His torso was half-exposed, his defined abs on full display.
Seeing her try on outfit after outfit, still unsatisfied, he spoke, his voice raspy with sleep. "Honey, you look beautiful in anything."
Holly’s attention was glued to her clothes. She replied without even turning her head, "Such a cop-out. That’s just your excuse for not buying new clothes."
"I bet you’re about to say I look best wearing nothing at all."
No sooner had the words left her mouth than she heard him chuckle lowly. "Mmm, you’re right. You look best with nothing on."
Holly was speechless. ’...’
’Are all married n cut from the sa cloth?’
’Their minds are constantly in the gutter.’
She turned to see him still lounging in bed. Annoyed, she strode over and ripped the blanket off him. "Quincy the Puppy, you used to exercise. You’re turning into a lazy old man, aren’t you going to work out?"
Mortir’s entire torso was now on display. There wasn’t an ounce of fat on his waist—it was the very picture of a well-toned physique.
Holly subconsciously pinched her own belly. ’...’
’I’m the one who should be exercising.’
Seeing her gesture, Mortir couldn’t hold back a smile. He grabbed his clothes and got dressed. His hair, tousled from sleep, fell across his forehead, and he raised a hand to smooth it down before answering her question. "Didn’t we get our exercise in last night? Are you saying you want to ’exercise’ again this morning?"
Holly was speechless. ’...’
She shot him a glare, then gave him a light kick, playing the part of the demanding wife. "Get out there and make breakfast! Are you trying to starve to death so you can get a new wife?"
Mortir arched an eyebrow, then bent down and peppered her chattering lips with kisses. "I won’t remarry. When the ti cos, I’ll just fuck your corpse."
Thoroughly stunned by his morbid humor, Holly edged away from him in mock horror. "Mortir Quincy," she said with deadpan seriousness, "I’ve had it with you."
Mortir arched an eyebrow. "That’s rude. Call Hubby."
He paused for a mont. "And Honey? I love you, too."
Holly was speechless. ’...’
’I’ve been slain by this man, and it’s barely even morning.’
’I need to find soone to put this guy in his place.’
She flung the door open and called out to Wyatt Winslow in the living room, "Dad, Mortir has sothing he needs to talk to you about!"
The mont he heard the word "Dad," Mortir instantly straightened up. ’...’
A few seconds later, Wyatt Winslow ca over, his expression stern as he looked at Mortir. "What is it?"
Mortir caught a glimpse of Holly gloating out of the corner of his eye. He gave a nearly imperceptible arch of his eyebrow. "Dad, we’ve decided we want to have a baby."
Holly: "????"
"!!!!!!"
’That son of a bitch Mortir, what the hell is he talking about?’
"..."
The statent was so impactful that Wyatt was stunned for a second before he recovered. He glanced at Holly, then pressed his lips together. "You don’t need my permission. That’s a decision for the two of you to make."
Holly was speechless. ’...’
Even so, her face flushed red at the ntion of having children in front of her father.
The second Wyatt was gone, she slamd the door shut, then leaped at Mortir, grabbing for his neck. He stumbled back, and they both toppled sideways onto the bed, Mortir instinctively shielding her head as they fell.
Before Holly could say a word, that rascal Mortir rolled over, pinning her beneath him. Exuding an air of pure dominance, he grinned. "Still have so energy left, Honey?"
Staring up at his handso face, now magnified before her, Holly couldn’t help but gulp.
’No energy left.’
’Ahem. I’m being bewitched by his good looks.’
The two of them dawdled in the bedroom for another ten minutes or so before finally erging.
Wyatt had already set breakfast on the table. Today, there were a few more eggs than usual.
There’s an old saying that eating eggs brings good fortune.
This was Wyatt’s way of encouraging her for her evaluation today.
Holly looked at him and smiled sweetly. "Thanks, Dad."
"Eat up."
Wyatt reached for an egg and began to peel it. Reading the situation, Mortir shrewdly didn’t offer to peel one for his wife. And just as he’d expected, once Wyatt finished peeling the egg, he placed it in Holly’s bowl.
The next second, Wyatt glanced at him. "Get your own," he said, before lowering his head to eat his congee.
After so many years as a son-in-law, Mortir could take this in stride. He picked up an egg and started peeling it. Just then, Holly placed her egg yolk in his bowl, saying smugly, "Here, Quincy the Puppy. To help you... replenish your strength."
’Mortir arched an eyebrow. If his father-in-law weren’t sitting right there, he’d make sure his wife understood exactly what this "strength" was all about.’
’His strong, powerful body.’
’And his long-lasting endurance.’
He passed the egg white to her, then split his own yolk and gave her half. "Eat up."
Holly pouted but didn’t dare refuse. That man Mortir was quite strict when it ca to her diet.
Pouting wouldn’t even work.
It was one of those things with Mortir. Once he made up his mind, nothing could change it—not even her pouting. It was like with people he disliked; you could move heaven and earth and he wouldn’t budge.
Wyatt was used to their cloying displays of affection and had mostly learned to tune them out.
Mortir drove Holly to the school gates. As she unbuckled her seatbelt, she said, "Bye, Hubby."
"Wait a second."
Mortir pulled a small box from his bag and handed it to her. "An early congratulations on passing your evaluation, Honey," he said earnestly.
"I haven’t even had the evaluation yet."
Despite her words, Holly took it without hesitation. She opened the box to find a designer lipstick. A glance at the label confird it was the "boyfriend-slayer" shade that had been sold out everywhere recently.
’Limited edition.’
She, Anna Willow, and Ellie had all tried to snag one, but with no luck.
She pulled out a compact mirror, opened the lipstick, and applied a small amount. After examining her reflection from the left and the right, she finally turned to Mortir and praised herself, "Your wife is gorgeous."
Then she asked, "Where did you get this? It’s sold out on the official website. If you can still buy it, you should get one for Anna and Ellie too."
Mortir shook his head. "Probably not. I had to ’pry’ this one away from my aunt."
Mortir’s aunt was a costics enthusiast who owned all the major brands, including many limited-edition items. In her past life, Holly had managed to get her hands on quite a few things from her.
Holly handed the lipstick back to him. Mortir took it and slid it into his pocket with a practiced, natural motion.
Seeing his wife accept the gift only to imdiately try and leave, the little ingrate, he said with mock "dissatisfaction," "Honey, what about my kiss?"
Holly looked at him, then puckered her lips and pointed to them. "This lipstick is too expensive. No kissing," she said, blinking innocently.
A rejected Mortir was left speechless. ’...’
’Damn it. His heartless little wife actually made him laugh out of pure frustration.’
’Sothing that costs a few hundred bucks is more important than a kiss?’
’He wanted to smash the lipstick in his pocket.’
’Just a thought.’
He was about to say sothing, but his wife had already gotten out of the car and shut the door without a shred of rcy.
"..."
The mont Holly stepped out of the car, she ran into so students. Her playful deanor vanished instantly. She didn’t beco stern, exactly, but her expression grew more composed.
The students smiled and called out, "Good morning, Teacher Winslow!"
"Hello, you two. Hurry on inside. Rember to be confident," Holly said, adopting her teacher persona, a complete transformation from the woman in the car.
Watching through the car window, Mortir’s lips curled into a smile. "Good morning, Teacher Winslow."
Holly shot him a look. ’...’
’So childish.’
Holly’s evaluation was scheduled for the second period. A row of teachers sat at the back of the classroom, including the principal, the academic dean, Gabe Chaucer, and a few others Holly didn’t recognize.
With two minutes to go before the bell, Holly stood at the lectern, arranging her book and teaching materials.
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