I Was About to Marry My Mistress, 30 Years Younger Than Me.
“Are you seriously going to leave the venue right now?” she asked, her tone dropping its sweetness.
“She is not feeling well at all,” I replied coldly.
“Jonathan, she is probably just sleeping off a mild headache at home,” Florence said, stepping closer.
“Then I will personally go and wake her up,” I countered.
Florence’s voice softened back into a pleading tone.
“You know how Christina gets whenever she feels upset about something.”