On the way back, Felix Shaw had one hand on the steering wheel and the other casually tapped it once, followed by a sigh.
"What's wrong?" Mia Foster turned her head and asked, puzzled. Felix glanced over, played with the corner of his mouth, and said, "Nothing."
Meeting Mia's questioning gaze, he grasped her hand, brought it to his lips, kissed it, and said with a relaxed smile looking ahead, "I'm just happy for myself. I didn't expect, at the age of thirty, to have a younger brother or sister. It seems really lucky thinking about it."
Watching Felix's profile, Mia pressed her lips together without saying anything. Her hand was still tightly held by Felix, resting between the two of them, the warmth from his palm silently permeating into her bloodstream.
She turned back to look ahead, her diffused eyes somewhat dazed. In fact, she understood his thoughts—his mother, at such an advanced age, was pregnant, yet they...
