Watching a video on my phone, I felt disgusted.
I realized the time and knew the rendezvous shouldn't be over yet.
Suddenly, I wanted to play with them.
In the underground parking lot, I saw a black Cullinan shaking at a glance.
I approached and knocked on the window.
Inside, the movement stopped abruptly.
An impatient voice came out, "Who is it? Can't you see I'm busy?"
Hearing the familiar voice, I couldn't help but clench my fists.
I shouted, "Mr. Webber, it's me, Erik. I saw your car shaking and came to check."
There was silence before the window lowered halfway, revealing Will's annoyed face.
He forced a smile, "Oh, Erik. I'm talking to my wife."
I was furious.
The person inside was my wife.
Pretending embarrassment, I apologized but was suddenly alerted by a woman's voice from the car.
Turning serious, I asked, "Why does Mrs. Webber sound different?"
His face drained of color as he stuttered, "I... she..."
"Is she catching a cold?" I continued with a smile.
He let out a long sigh of relief and nodded repeatedly.
Returning to the banquet hall, Catherine rushed toward me, breathing heavily and flushed.
"Honey, I'm a bit uncomfortable. Let's go home," she said.
Seeing my plan had succeeded, I didn't press her.
Instead, I made one last request, "Sure, but let's toast Mr. Webber before we leave."
