Chapter 722:
The boy’s wide, uncertain eyes followed her every move as she stepped closer and held out the box. “Here. This belongs to you.”
He blinked at her in disbelief, as if unsure he had heard correctly.
“I picked the wrong one,” Rylie explained with calm finality. “It’s a kid’s cake. It doesn’t suit what I need.”
Setting the box gently at his feet, she turned away and headed for her car. But before she could open the door, the boy scrambled down from the cart and pressed two lollipops into her palm.
“Thanks. These are for you,” he replied earnestly.
Just then, the old man returned, empty-handed and looking dejected. “Sorry, we were too late. They sold out of cakes.”
His steps faltered when he reached the tricycle and spotted the cake sitting in the cart. His gaze shifted to Rylie, recognition dawning.
“You…” he murmured, startled.
“I bought the wrong cake,” Rylie explained, her voice steady. “It’s yours now. For you and your grandson.” She turned, intending to get into the car.
The old man’s eyes glistened as he held out a fistful of worn bills. “Please, let me pay you for it.”
“That isn’t necessary. I don’t want your money.” Rylie shook her head and gently pushed his rough hands away.
“I can’t accept a gift like this without giving something back,” he insisted stubbornly. Digging through the bag he carried, he pulled out a bundle of vegetables still damp from the market and a parcel of fresh fish. “Take these instead. They’re clean, no chemicals, straight from the farm and sea. Much better than what you’d find in a supermarket. I’d feel ashamed to walk away with your cake otherwise.”
Later that evening, Rylie found herself standing outside Brad’s door, not with a birthday cake, but with a bag of groceries pressed against her chest.
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Rylie hesitated for a moment, about to raise her hand to knock when the door opened from inside.
Brad stepped out, holding a bag of trash, a towel secured around his waist, his upper body bare and marked with scars.
Droplets of water slid from his broad shoulders down the lines of his toned waist, disappearing into the towel.
The air seemed to turn still in an instant.
Brad’s dark, penetrating gaze fixed firmly on her. “What’s that?”
The black bag in Rylie’s hand shifted, a bit of water splashing out. She lowered her gaze briefly before passing it to Brad, masking her nerves with calmness. “Your birthday present.”
“My birthday present?” Brad echoed, his jaw tightening as he ground his teeth. “Did Brock put you up to this?”
He despised the thought of exposing his vulnerable side to Rylie, along with his longing for family affection and fair treatment from his mother.
Rylie pressed, “So, do you want my gift or not?”
Brad answered at once. “Wait here.”
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