Too Late, Mr. Cooper: Your Bride Ran with Your Baby novel Chapter 223

Liliana paused, and a fierce blush instantly flooded her delicate face.

Oh, Mom.

This was a huge misunderstanding.

“Mom, it’s not...”

“Ma’am.”

Liam cut off Liliana’s explanation with a cheerful tone, turning to help Mrs. Hart chop vegetables as if he’d been doing it for years.

He was actually quite talented in the kitchen.

After cooking for Liliana for a month, he had progressed from initial awkwardness to confident proficiency.

Mrs. Hart couldn’t help but study him.

The young man was handsome, capable—look at how expertly he handled that knife—and young. What wasn't to like?

For some reason, looking at him, Mrs. Hart was reminded of “Snowball.”

Oh, right.

Snowball was the Samoyed Liliana used to have.

He was fluffy, white, and absolutely adorable, always trailing behind Liliana, whining for attention in his puppy-like way.

Liliana had raised him for six or seven years.

When he got old and could barely walk, she sent him to live out his days in the countryside to spare herself the heartbreak.

Watching Liam’s tall, slender back as he worked quietly in the kitchen, Mrs. Hart felt that same familiar fondness she’d had for the dog.

She beamed, looking thoroughly pleased as she leaned in to whisper to Liliana, “Honey, your new boyfriend is wonderful.”

“And, you know, I know younger men are all the rage these days. Don’t worry, your mother isn’t that old-fashioned.”

Mrs. Hart spoke with grave importance, clearly having cemented the misunderstanding in her mind.

She squeezed Liliana’s hand, gave her a conspiratorial wink, and whispered with a giggle, “A young pup is a great choice! So much energy! Liliana, let me tell you, when it comes to men, you have to get them young. Once a man hits twenty-five, it’s all downhill, you know?”

“...”

Her face turned the color of a boiled lobster, and she was so embarrassed she could have curled up and died.

“No, Mom...”

“Ma’am.”

Liliana suddenly remembered what her mother had just said.

*Once a man hits twenty-five, it’s all downhill.*

Yikes.

Her dad was pushing fifty. That was two hurdles down. She hoped her mom wasn’t getting tired of him.

Liliana fell into a pensive state.

Her warm fingers gently ghosted over her slightly swollen belly, and she couldn’t help but worry.

Dad... you doing okay over there?

...

Liam and Mrs. Hart cooked a feast for Liliana.

For three people, they had prepared six dishes and a soup. It was quite a spread.

Mrs. Hart sat down next to Liliana, with Liam taking the seat across from them.

Mrs. Hart began warmly, “Right, young... ahem, man, I almost forgot to ask. What’s your name? And how old are you?”