Blizzard, First Love and a Wife Who Finally Snaps novel Chapter 177

Oliver used the restroom and went back to sleep.

When he woke up again, Selena had returned with a bowl of noodles.

“Oliver, I spoke with Dr. Lawson. He said you can’t have anything too flavorful right now, so I made you a tomato soup. It’s sweet and sour, very appetizing.”

Oliver stared at the bowl, then after a moment, picked up his fork. He took one bite and couldn’t eat any more.

He burrowed into Adrian’s arms without a word.

Adrian asked, “What kind of soups do you want? I can have someone buy some, or I can have the chef at the estate make them for you.”

Oliver was miserable, his emotions heightened by his illness.

“I want the noodles Mama made.”

Selena also tried to coax him gently. “But Mama did make these for you. I promise I didn’t let anyone else do it, really.”

“If you don’t like this one, I can make you a different kind. How about chicken soup?”

Oliver didn’t speak.

Adrian glanced at Selena.

Although he didn’t say anything, Selena had known him for years and understood his meaning immediately.

She fell silent.

Adrian held Oliver, arranging for various kinds of noodles to be delivered, all types except for those he absolutely couldn’t eat.

But Oliver didn’t even look at them.

Until Old Mrs. Blackwell arrived with a bowl of noodles.

“My dear great-grandson.”

No matter what Oliver’s temper was like, whether he rejected Isabel for Selena, he was still her great-grandson.

“Of course it does. Your mama taught me how to make it.” Old Mrs. Blackwell gently stroked his little head. “But Great-grandma is a slow learner; I’m afraid I can’t quite capture all of your mama’s flavor.”

Now that he was eating something he liked, Oliver’s mood improved. “You’re amazing too, Great-grandma.”

Selena’s embarrassment deepened.

Adrian had the bodyguards clear away the other noodles and personally drove Old Mrs. Blackwell back to the family estate.

“Your health isn’t good. You don’t need to keep running to the hospital. You can call me to pick it up, or just have the kitchen staff prepare it.”

Old Mrs. Blackwell patted Adrian’s hand. “I rarely interfere in your affairs, Adrian, except for asking you to marry Isabel. I know you’re resentful. But a mother’s cooking, the taste of home… that’s something no one else can replace.”

She sighed softly. “You always think money can buy any food, that you can hire someone to learn any recipe. But when you were little, your mother and I never delegated that to others. The same goes for your brother and sister. Your mother was born a lady, she had never been in a kitchen, but she still learned to cook for you all, just as she cooked for Oliver. You can eat out anywhere you want, but when you come home to the estate, don’t you think even a simple steak made by your mother tastes better than anything you can get outside?”

Old Mrs. Blackwell looked at the remarkably successful man Adrian had become.

“Isabel had her faults, but she never wronged you or your son. Adrian, since the deceased is at rest, stop being so harsh on her memory.”