His Housewife Had Secret Identities novel Chapter 239

“Wait.”

That was all Jonathan said to her.

Just that one word.

At first, Niamh didn’t get it.

She assumed when Jonathan told her to “wait,” he meant he was about to pull out the divorce papers.

But after standing there for ages, she realized Jonathan wasn’t reaching into his coat for anything, nor was he making any move to go back to the car to fetch something.

Seeing the growing confusion on Niamh’s face, Jonathan finally caught on.

“What did you think I meant by ‘wait’?”

Niamh blinked. “Obviously, I thought you meant I should wait for you to hand me the divorce papers!”

Jonathan ducked his head and chuckled.

“I haven’t even drawn them up yet. You’ll just have to wait.”

“…”

Niamh stared, speechless.

“Are you messing with me?”

Jonathan didn’t answer, just shoved his hands into his coat pockets.

“I won’t walk you out. I have dinner plans with Marina tonight, and I need to buy her a gift.”

The way he said it, Niamh couldn’t help but feel he was intentionally saying it for her benefit.

She arched a brow.

“You don’t need to tell me your itinerary. Besides, I have my own car. I don’t need you to see me off.”

With that, she turned and walked away.

Jonathan’s gaze didn’t leave her.

But he wasn’t watching her retreating figure—he was looking at her left hand.

The last time he’d noticed the ring on her finger had also been at the entrance to this nursing home.

A simple little daisy-shaped ring—utterly ordinary in his eyes, nothing special at all.

“You really are hopeless at this,” Niamh teased, tossing him an energy drink in the lounge after she’d changed back into her street clothes.

“Pfft.”

Preston clicked his tongue in annoyance, but really, if he could actually beat Katarina, that would be absurd.

After leaving the racetrack, Preston finally caught a genuine smile on Niamh’s face.

On the way there, she’d looked weighed down by the world.

“If you ever want to blow off steam with a few laps, just call me. I’m always up for it,” Preston offered.

Niamh turned to him and burst out laughing.

“Did it ever occur to you I might get tired of you?”

“You—! Hey—!”

Preston glared at her, cheeks flushed.

But he wasn’t wrong—racing had helped her vent a lot of pent-up frustration that night.

“Thanks for keeping me company,” she said softly.