Reborn with My Genius Husband-Chapter 155: The "I Love You" Seat

Anna Willow linked her arm through Iris Kensington’s and comforted her, "Oh, come on, guys are all the same. They all like those sweet, innocent girls."

Holly Winslow nodded in agreement. "Totally. Don’t be mad. Mortimer is like that too."

To comfort her friend, she sheepishly "sold out" her own husband.

When your best friend is angry, you can never take the side of the person who made her mad. 𝚏𝕣𝕖𝚎𝚠𝚎𝚋𝚗𝐨𝐯𝕖𝕝.𝕔𝐨𝕞

Even if they’re right, they’re wrong.

No questions asked.

Hearing this, Iris Kensington’s mood improved a little. "I can’t be bothered to be mad at him. Hmph. If he wants to break up, then fine. I couldn’t care less."

She waved her hand. "Let’s go! Time for the roller coaster."

Holly Winslow looked horrified at the suggestion, frantically waving her hands. "No way."

Iris Kensington and Anna Willow each grabbed one of her arms, declaring in unison, "You can’t escape now! HAHAHAHA."

Jarton Second High only had a one-day break, and they had to be back at school that afternoon. So around one or two o’clock, the group started heading home.

After Iris Kensington and Chris Chaucer got out of Mortimer Quincy’s car, Iris, still mad at Chris, started walking home in a huff.

Chris Chaucer ran after her, grabbing her hand. He pulled her into a quiet alley and pressed her against a wall, relenting, "Don’t be mad anymore. I was wrong."

Iris Kensington haughtily averted her gaze. "Let me go, I’m going home... Mmph."

Chris Chaucer lowered his head and kissed her. Iris Kensington’s face turned red bit by bit. Soon, Chris let her go and patted her head, patiently explaining, "You can say whatever you want to me, but not out in public. If other people hear you, they’ll think you’re a bad kid."

Her anger already kissed away, Iris Kensington said shyly, "I know. Now let go of me, someone might come by."

"Pack your things and come down. I’ll take you to school. And if you score 420 or higher on your finals, I’ll take you to have fun at Crimsoncrest Peak." Chris Chaucer leaned in and kissed her one more time before letting her go, satisfied.

"Okay, okay, okay," Iris Kensington said as she practically fled the scene.

...

Holly Winslow and Mortimer Quincy didn’t go home; they went to the movies instead.

It was pretty crowded for a Saturday, filled with students around their age.

They hadn’t been in a while. The theater now offered couple’s seats, but they were in the very back row, which wasn’t great for viewing.

Mortimer Quincy and Holly Winslow skipped the couple’s seats and bought seats 20 and 21 in the fifth row.

When Mortimer Quincy saw Holly Winslow about to sit in seat 21, he said, "Holly, take the other one."

Holly Winslow took a sip of her soda. After sitting down, she looked at him, confused. "Is there a difference?"

"There is."

Mortimer Quincy waited for her to get settled before sitting down beside her. He set down the popcorn and said, "Honey, how do you like our ’I love you’ seats?"

His sudden sweet talk almost made Holly Winslow choke on her soda. "..."

’He’s never this talented when he writes love letters.’

Halfway through the movie, Holly Winslow heard a small voice from behind them. "Mommy, I want some popcorn."

"We’ll get some on the way out." That voice sounded a little familiar.

No, it was *too* familiar.

’The Dean of Discipline.’

Mortimer Quincy and Holly Winslow exchanged a look. "..."

’Running into the Dean of Discipline over and over again... we’re definitely going to get caught.’

There were no more sounds from behind them after that.

When the movie ended and the lights came up, Holly Winslow kept her back to the aisle, afraid the Dean of Discipline would spot her.

Mortimer Quincy couldn’t help but let out a low chuckle, but he ducked his head a little, too. If the Dean saw them together too often, he’d definitely get suspicious.

Once the Dean of Discipline and his child had left, Holly Winslow and Mortimer Quincy finally got up. Mortimer naturally took her hand. "Come on, little mistress. Your sugar daddy is taking you home."

The "little mistress": "..."

She looked up at him, blinking. "Your wife might get angry."

"My wife? Nah, she won’t."

Mortimer Quincy added gloomily, "She’ll chop me into pieces."

Holly Winslow burst out laughing.

The Dean of Discipline, who had come back for something he forgot, returned leading his child by the hand. He froze for a second when he saw the hand-holding "cousins." "Holly Winslow. Mortimer Quincy."

Holly Winslow was stunned. "..."

’Is my first instinct to fake an illness?’

Mortimer Quincy quickly let go of her hand. "You got soda on your hands. Go wash them in the restroom."

Then he calmly greeted him, "Mr. Hollis."

Holly Winslow echoed, "Mr. Hollis."

’So that’s what it was. Holly’s hand was just sticky with soda.’

The Dean of Discipline didn’t suspect a thing and said amiably, "You two came to see a movie as well?"

Mortimer Quincy grunted in affirmation. "Dad asked me to take Holly out to relax a bit."

’On a date,’ Holly thought.

...

Hearing the door open, Wyatt Winslow looked up from the sofa. He didn’t ask where Holly Winslow had been, simply saying, "Wash your hands. Time for dinner."

After washing her hands, Holly Winslow sat down at the table. There were pickled chicken feet on the table, and she grabbed one and started to gnaw on it. It was both sour and spicy. She gave Wyatt Winslow a thumbs-up. "Dad, this is delicious!"

"If you like it, then eat up," Wyatt Winslow said, picking up some greens with his chopsticks.

Holly Winslow then added with a sweet, innocent charm, "From now on, I’m taking you with me wherever I go, Dad. That way, I can have your pickled chicken feet every day."

Wyatt Winslow’s chopsticks paused mid-air. He pressed his lips together, his tone tinged with an almost imperceptible loneliness. "You’ll have your own home someday."

It might have sounded like he didn’t want to live with her, but Holly Winslow knew what he really meant: he didn’t want to be a burden to her in the future.

She pretended not to understand, huffing and retorting like a spoiled child, "I don’t care. Wherever I am is where you’ll be, Dad. We’re never going to be apart."

Wyatt Winslow’s heart warmed. It didn’t matter if his daughter’s promise would come true someday; at that moment, he was filled with pure joy.

"Your teacher mentioned a 396-yuan materials fee. Why didn’t you tell me?"

Holly Winslow replied between bites, "I still have money. It’s enough to pay for it."

He used to control her allowance because he was afraid she’d get into trouble, but now that she was so much more sensible, he no longer felt the need to.

He didn’t say anything more, but the next day, as Holly Winslow was leaving for school, he gave her an extra five hundred yuan.

...

As soon as they got to school, Zeke Zane and the others paid Mortimer Quincy back the lunch money they owed him from last month. They even paid "interest" in the form of a double helping of snacks.

After that, the usual routine began—copying homework.

During evening self-study, Gabe Chaucer produced some Chinese language worksheets he’d printed from somewhere, saying it was last year’s college entrance exam, and told them to complete it.

"All of you, take this seriously. I’m going to grade them. Anyone who scores below one hundred will have to copy the entire test ten times."

There was a school-wide teachers’ meeting that Sunday, so after he finished speaking, he hurried off.

Possibly due to a printing error, when Holly Winslow reached the classical poetry section, the first question asked her to translate the meaning of the underlined verse.

But there was no underlined verse in the poem.

She turned to look at Mortimer Quincy. He always wrote the essay first and was now working on the modern literature comprehension section.

She whispered, "Let me see the classical poetry part."

Mortimer Quincy flipped his test over and slid it to her. His paper didn’t have an underlined sentence either.

She whispered again, "Husband, there’s no line."

Mortimer Quincy studied it for over ten seconds, then took his pen and underlined the third sentence. "There you go."

Staring at the hand-drawn black line, Holly Winslow asked casually, "How did you know it was that one?"

’When you do enough practice problems, you just know. Besides, I’ve seen this poem on a test before, and the third sentence is always what they ask about.’

Mortimer Quincy raised an eyebrow and said in a low, leisurely voice, "Because I’m your husband."