Not One, But Two!

Chapter 73

Greg didn't seem to have noticed how stiff Abigail had become. After toweling her hair, he asked, "Where's the hairdryer?"

"Oh, it's in the bathroom. I'll get it myself," Abigail muttered as she snapped out of her reverie.

He had taken her by surprise earlier when he toweled her hair. She had always dried her own hair without the help of others, but that aside, the intimacy of the moment earlier did not seem to fit into the dynamics between her and Greg.

She retrieved the hairdryer from the bathroom, but she did not turn it on immediately after she walked out. Instead, she eyed Greg curiously as she asked, "So what was it about Emma that you wanted to talk about? I didn't know you had so much time on your hands to butt into someone else's business, Mr. Buckley."

"We'll talk about her after you blow-dry your hair. I don't want you catching a cold." With that, Greg grabbed the hairdryer and began to help her dry her damp locks.

She tried to stop him, but all she got in return was a nonchalant warning. "Don't move, or you'll suffer when your hair gets tangled up in the hairdryer."

Upon hearing this, Abigail stopped moving immediately. She had long hair, and if it really did get tangled up in the blades of the hairdryer, then the consequences could be drastic for her. However, that didn't distract her from how close she and Greg were in proximity, which was enough to make her uneasy.

Before her hair was fully dry, she seized the opportunity to gather her hair into a bundle and scurry away from him, saying, "That's enough."

"Your hair isn't even dry!"

"Did you come here during work hours just to blow-dry my hair for me? How very altruistic of you, Mr. Buckley!" she pointed out sarcastically.

Greg bristled at this. He couldn't explain why he offered to blow-dry her hair, but he did know that he didn't like seeing her hair dripping wet. Not even Genevieve had had such a privilege, and yet here was Abigail, who seemed to take offense at his gesture.

He had too much pride to cajole her, and he was never one to bend to others' will. A grim look passed over his face when he saw how indifferent and arrogant she was. He tossed the hairdryer aside and said curtly, "Jonathan is my nephew; surely it isn't wrong for me to intervene on behalf of his girlfriend."

The answer got on Abigail's nerves more than she would care to admit. "Really? Well, aren't you a saint, Mr. Buckley? But how are you so sure that I'd be willing to settle this out of court?"

Greg knew of the strife that existed between Abigail and the rest of the Kains. In truth, if he weren't so desperate to marry Jonathan off and get him out of his way, he couldn't care less about what happened to the Kains. That said, Abigail's sharp tone still annoyed him.

"There's no point in letting this thing blow up. Even if you managed to get Emma thrown into prison, what good will that do for you? Sasha and Philip aren't just going to let you get away with it."

"And you think I'm afraid of them?" Abigail snorted impassively.

Greg found this fearless and arrogant side of her inexplicably attractive. I must be going crazy!

He averted his gaze and pointed out unaffectedly, "I'm not saying that you are afraid of them, but that you shouldn't have to break a sweat over a situation like this. Jonathan will only keep pestering you,

and Emma wouldn't give up without a fight. You'd have your hands full trying to get them off your back, so you might as well sit back and let them rip each other's throat out."

Abigail blinked at him as she tried to wrap her head around his argument. "Why would Emma and Jonathan turn on each other?"

"You don't actually think Emma is in love with Jonathan, do you? The both of them are only in it for their own interests, and once their interests are in conflict, do you sincerely believe she would stick by him no matter what?"

Something in Abigail's mind clicked when she heard his elaboration. "Didn't you just say you only intervened for your nephew's sake?" There was a glimmer of amusement in her eyes as she asked this.

Greg suddenly grew uneasy. "Technically, that wasn't a lie. I'm here to negotiate for an out-of-court settlement with you so that the boy can go on his merry way and get hitched."

"Hah!" She couldn't help letting out a cold bark of laughter.

He had made it clear that he only wanted Emma to be released so that he could use her as a pawn against Jonathan, but Abigail had nothing to do with his plans. In fact, she wouldn't gain anything out of it. Emma would not face retribution for what she had done to her, and this didn't seem fair at all.

"I can't do the surgery for Eric. As you know, I'm injured, and Allie is still in a delicate condition. Since Emma was the one who scheduled that surgery, let her do it. I don't care about the money, but I won't tolerate her ruining my reputation," she said in clipped tones.

Greg said somberly, "Let Jonathan and Emma sort this out for themselves, and you'll be spared from the messy aftermath, not to mention preserve your reputation. I told the police to release Emma only after she publicly apologized to you, and when she does, everyone will know her true nature. Do you

think she would be able to marry into any other elite family after that? She would have no choice but to stick to Jonathan and force him into marrying her."

"Jonathan would have married her by now if he truly had such intentions instead of dragging out the engagement for five years." That much Abigail was sure of; from the looks of it, Jonathan didn't love Emma enough to want to marry her.

Greg eyed her thoughtfully for a while before he pointed out sourly. "You seem to know Jonathan pretty well."

She looked up and met his gaze, though she made no reply to that remark.

He shrugged and said breezily, "He'll marry her."

"Huh?" Abigail found his confidence puzzling. He was so sure of this notion that she started to wonder if he was up to something.

However, Greg didn't bother elaborating on this as he turned to glance at the time. It was nearly noon. "You hungry? I'll whip up some food for you." He didn't wait for her to respond before taking off his jacket and rolling up his sleeves.

She gaped at him, then quickly said, "No, it's fine. I can make my own food."

"You're hurt, and you only got hurt because of me. It would be unconscionable of me to allow you to make your own food, don't you think?"

"You're hurt too! How's the injury on your back?"

He stiffened at this. After thinking about it for a moment, he flashed her a roguish smile and jokingly replied, "I'd like to think of the injury as a badge of honor. Kind of manly, right?" However, all the humor

went out of him when he opened the fridge and saw that there was nothing inside. He frowned and asked dryly, "Are you on a diet or something?"

She appeared to be unfazed by the lack of groceries. "I'll order takeout later, so don't trouble yourself, Mr. Buckley."

She had been distant and somewhat hostile ever since she had a meal at his place, and Greg couldn't help asking, "What's up with you? Do you have a problem with me?"

"Nope," Abigail replied plainly. "Your plan is swell and all, Greg, but honestly, I couldn't care less if Jonathan and Emma got married or not. I have my own ways of dealing with this, and I hope you'd understand."

She was implying that she did not agree with his very elaborate scheme.

Greg's face darkened immediately as he demanded, "What does that mean? Do you have residual feelings for Jonathan or something? Or was he telling the truth when he said you two are still a going concern?"

She found his behavior a little bewildering. "Okay, what are we talking about here?"

"Jonathan came by my place today and told my mom that you're his girlfriend. He also told her that he wanted to bring you over to meet her in person, because he apparently plans on marrying you. Is that something you'd be interested in?" Greg didn't notice at all how angry he sounded when he said this, like he was playing the role of a jealous husband.

Needless to say, Abigail was a little stunned to hear this. Jonathan went to see Old Madam Buckley this morning and spun her an absurd story like that?

She thought about how her kids were still over at Greg's place. She didn't want Valerie to think she was still pining after her grandson. Who knows what Old Madam Buckley will think of me? She might even question the girls' birth story! I should have done more than throw Jonathan over my shoulder this morning; I ought to have punched the lights out of him!

"There's nothing going on between Jonathan and I."

"Well, then, let's just stick to my plan, shall we?" Owned by NôvelDrama.Org.

Greg threw the words out huffily and stood up, then left. He was obviously angry, but Abigail didn't ask why. She was a little more offended by his domineering attitude than baffled by his grizzly bear impression.

"Greg, this is my business."

"It's no longer your business now that my family is involved!" he practically growled, not at all stopping in his tracks.

Suddenly, she wondered aloud, asking, "You're not doing this to cover up my history with Jonathan, are you?"

"So what if I am?" Greg finally halted in his steps, and he turned to stare at her meaningfully. His eyes were dark, and right now, they were like intimidating black whirlpools, though the effect was lost on Abigail.

Out of nowhere, she sputtered and asked, "Why are you worried that others might find out about my history with him? Are you in love with me or something?"

Greg thought his heart had stopped beating for a second when she said this. In a voice like ice, he snapped, "In love with you? Don't be ridiculous! Do I look like a masochist to you?" With that, he

stormed out of the room and slammed the door shut behind him with such force that it rattled against its frame. It was clear that he was outraged.

Left alone, Abigail resisted the urge to pout like a bitter child. Okay, so you aren't in love with me. You don't have to tear down the house to prove it.

In actuality, she loathed herself for asking such a stupid question in the first place. She and Greg would be living in two different worlds, destined to never meet, if it weren't for the two girls she had with him.

At the thought of this, a bitter chuckle escaped her. Oh, you've grown sentimental, Abigail, she chided herself listlessly.

She turned around and saw that Greg had left his jacket behind, but she didn't feel like giving it back to him. He could afford to lose a jacket.

She stretched out on the couch and felt an unprecedented exhaustion wash over her. She was lonely here, and she had no friends to talk to. She was suddenly seized by the urge to move back to Marona.

In the time that followed, she lay on the couch and spaced out, letting time tick by in silence.

Half an hour later, the doorbell sounded.

Abigail couldn't be bothered to get up, for she didn't care who was out there right now; she only wanted to lie down and let herself waste away in the stillness of the house.

The person outside pressed the doorbell again, but when no one answered, he took the spare key from his pocket and let himself in.

Upon seeing Greg walk into the house with a tray of food in hand, Abigail bolted upright on the couch and gaped at him with wide eyes. "Why do you have the keys to my house?"

"It's hardly a mystery. My buddy owns the place, and I'm house-sitting for him, so of course, I'd have a spare key. Also, why didn't you get the door when you're just lazing around the house? What the hell were you getting up to anyway?"

Having said that grumpily, Greg placed the tray down on the dining table.

Abigail bridled at what he said. He has the spare key to this place? That means he can come and leave as he pleases while I'm staying here! This is unbelievable!