Chapter 242
Not wanting Nelly and Irving Butler, who were just a short distance away, to catch sight of Lyman, she quickly slammed the door shut with a loud bang.
At that moment, Randell turned to Effie. “Effie, Lyman’s had a bit too much to drink,” he said.
Drunk?
But Effie could only smell a faint hint of alcohol on him.
Suddenly, Lyman’s hand moved and grabbed Effie’s.
Because Randell had just said Lyman was drunk, Effie was startled by the sudden grip on her hand. She nearly jumped out of her seat.
“What’s wrong?” Randell asked, not turning around. Effie’s status always made him hesitant to look her directly in the eye; it just didn’t feel quite right.
Effie quickly replied, “Nothing, it’s fine.”
With that, she shot Lyman a brief, puzzled look.
Lyman glanced at her, a sly smile tugging at his lips. He winked, then closed his eyes again, leaning his head onto her shoulder.
His hair tickled her neck, making her squirm a little. Without thinking, she reached up to smooth it out for him.
Just then, Randell noticed how quiet it was in the back seat. He finally glanced over his shoulder-and instantly felt a pang of jealousy.
Effie was carefully fixing Lyman’s hair, her movements gentle, her eyes filled with unmistakable affection.
Ah, love really does make people worry over nothing, he thought.
Why on earth did Lyman ever doubt that Effie loved him?
Of course, Randell had no intention of telling Lyman that. Let him figure it out himself!
Soon, they pulled up in front of the house Effie and Lyman shared.
Randell got out, preparing to help Lyman upstairs.
Lyman, supposedly drunk, was impossibly heavy. Randell remembered hauling him out to the car earlier—it had felt like dragging a dead whale, not a man. The effort had nearly wiped him out.
If Effie tried to help, she’d probably be crushed under his weight.
“I’ve got him,” Randell said to Effie.
She hesitated. “Are you sure? Really, it’s not necessary…”
Lyman wasn’t even drunk, after all.
Randell waved her off. “Don’t worry about it. Lyman and I go way back. I’ve got this.”
As Randell tried to pull Lyman out, Lyman clung to Effie like an octopus, arms locked tight. No matter how hard Randell tugged, he couldn’t pry him loose.
Randell paused, hands on his hips, catching his breath. “What on earth is going on here?” he muttered.
Effie gently patted Lyman’s cheek. “We’re home,” she said softly. “Come on, let’s go inside.”
Lyman mumbled a reply, swaying as he stood, but kept himself pressed comfortably against Effie. To her surprise, she barely needed to support him at all -he walked with her easily.
Randell, trailing behind, let out an exaggerated sigh. “I’m starting to think Lyman’s just faking it!”
Effie thought, Sorry, but you’ve hit the nail on the head.
Once inside the elevator, Lyman immediately straightened up, dropping the drunken act entirely.
“Why were you pretending to be drunk?” Effie asked, raising an eyebrow.
He grinned. “If I didn’t, how else could I make sure I came home with you?”
Effie blinked in surprise, a faint blush rising to her cheeks. She looked away, mumbling, “Um…well… home, then.”
A moment later, she frowned. “Why is it taking so long to get upstairs?”
Lyman arched an eyebrow. “In a hurry to get home, are we?”
That’s when they both realized they’d forgotten to press the elevator button for their floor.
They exchanged a sheepish laugh and quickly pressed the right button. The elevator finally began to rise.
Even though Effie and Lyman had been married for some time now, and their relationship had grown steadily warmer, tonight felt different. Effie couldn’t shake the feeling that the way Lyman looked at her was burning with a special intensity.