Reborn with My Genius Husband

Chapter 314 - 324: Kisses, Hugs, and Being Lifted High, None Can Escape

Quincy the Puppy was being cheesy again. Holly Winslow was speechless.

She hung up without a second thought.

...

The man who’d been so full of smooth talk on the phone was now in his loungewear, bent over and vacuuming with practiced, natural ease.

His "good son-in-law" persona was holding strong.

She turned to check Wyatt Winslow’s reaction. Although there was no obvious change in his expression, she knew her father was very pleased with his son-in-law’s behavior.

Sure enough, a moment later, Wyatt Winslow said to his good son-in-law, "Go eat." With that, he walked over, took the vacuum cleaner from him, and continued cleaning.

"Dad, I can do it. I’m almost done anyway," Mortimer Quincy said, trying to score some more points.

Wyatt Winslow shook his head, then turned to Holly Winslow. "Holly, go heat up his food."

This was the first time Wyatt Winslow had ever asked Holly Winslow to do something for Mortimer Quincy. Holly glanced at him. ’Not bad at all. He really knows how to win over my dad.’

"Dad, it’s fine. Holly, I can do it myself. You just sit and watch TV," Mortimer Quincy said.

Holly Winslow was speechless.

’Damn you, Mortimer Quincy,’ she thought. ’Now he’s even learned to play the victim for my dad.’

She took the food to the kitchen and put it in the microwave. When Mortimer Quincy followed her in, she nudged him with her elbow. "Tsk, tsk," she said. "Quincy the Actor, not bad at all. You actually got Dad to order me to heat up your food. That’s a first. How does it feel?"

Mortimer Quincy wrapped his arms around her waist from behind, resting his chin on her shoulder and nuzzling her gently. He thought for a moment before answering seriously, "A little terrified, actually."

Holly Winslow couldn’t help but laugh. ’The guy must still be traumatized from our last life,’ she thought. In the past, Wyatt Winslow would never have let her cook for Mortimer Quincy.

He was lucky just to be allowed in the house for a meal.

In Wyatt Winslow’s mind, Mortimer was probably at the top of his blacklist.

She said, gloating, "You know what this is called, right?"

"Retribution."

"When I was chasing you, you were so aloof. You’d ignore me and tell me to ’study hard and make progress every day.’"

At this, she got serious. "Quincy the Puppy, how could you even say something like that? Your behavior had absolutely nothing to do with being a ’good student who studies hard and makes progress every day.’"

She bared her teeth and added, "Your mind is completely in the gutter."

With old scores being settled again, Mortimer Quincy knew he was in the wrong and quickly changed the subject. "Honey, the food’s ready."

Holly Winslow huffed but didn’t press the issue, letting him take his food out to eat by himself.

’I’ll just bring it up whenever I’m bored, to get ’revenge’ for his past sins.’

’He was really ’awful’ back then, which is why I’ve ’held a grudge’ for all these years.’

After he finished eating, Wyatt Winslow, who was sitting on the sofa, suddenly asked, "Have you picked out the wedding dress yet?"

Holly Winslow froze for a second. She’d completely forgotten about it. She glanced at her father. In her past life, when she got married, Wyatt Winslow had secretly bought several wedding dresses for her. She only found them in his closet much later.

That had been the moment she broke down completely.

And it was in that moment that she truly understood her father’s love.

A silent, profound love.

’He never says it out loud, so how could I have been so oblivious for more than twenty years?’

She smiled. "I haven’t picked one yet, and I haven’t had much time lately. Dad, why don’t you pick one out for me? Mortimer Quincy can transfer the money to you."

Mortimer Quincy knew what she was referring to. His wife had cried for a long time at home back then. He didn’t mind who bought the wedding dress, as long as it was his wife wearing it. ’Well, actually, no one but Wyatt Winslow would do.’

He went along with Holly Winslow’s suggestion. "Yeah, Dad, could you help us look? I’ve been really busy lately."

Wyatt Winslow didn’t refuse, simply grunting his assent. He pushed up his glasses. "What style do you like?"

"For leaving the house, a traditional Chinese-style one. Red, with a tasseled headdress."

Holly Winslow was describing the exact wedding attire that Wyatt Winslow had spent a fortune to have custom-made for her in their past life. It was entirely handmade.

Wyatt Winslow, hearing his own idea spoken aloud, was visibly stunned for a moment but quickly recovered with a simple, "Mm. Anything else?"

"For the main ceremony, a white dress. No sequins, something simple. And for the reception, a long red dress will be fine for the toasts."

Holly Winslow deliberately described the wrong style for the reception dress. She beamed and added, "Are my requests too demanding, Dad? It’s going to be a lot of work for you. Once I’m a full-time employee after my internship, I’ll take you on a vacation."

Wyatt Winslow made a mental note: no sequins, simple. Then he replied to the second part of her statement. "No need."

He looked at Mortimer Quincy. "And you?"

Mortimer Quincy replied obediently, "Whatever you pick is fine, Dad. I’m not picky. As long as Holly looks beautiful, that’s all that matters."

Holly Winslow giggled, shaking her head smugly. "Dad, get him something a little ugly. That way, I’ll look even better by comparison. People will take one look and say, ’Wow, the bride is gorgeous!’"

Both Mortimer Quincy and Wyatt Winslow laughed. Wyatt Winslow gave a serious "Mm."

’As long as his wife was happy, Mortimer didn’t care how his own wedding suit looked.’

’A happy wife means a heavenly life for him.’

’There’d be no end to the kisses, hugs, and being lifted up high.’

...

Holly Winslow took a day off before returning to school. The students, who hadn’t seen her in a while, were all thrilled. As for why they were thrilled, she knew all too well.

The atmosphere in her classes was more relaxed than in their homeroom teacher’s.

As she erased the blackboard, she said, "Alright, settle down. Take out your textbooks. Time for the lesson."

"Teacher Winslow, we missed you so much! It’s so boring without you," a mischievous boy in the back row called out.

Holly Winslow stifled a laugh. Looking at their youthful faces, she replied, "Is that because you don’t have enough homework? In that case, I can assign more later."

"No, Teacher Winslow, please don’t! You’re the best! You’re beautiful and kind, so you’d definitely give us less homework," the boy said, sweet-talking her.

The whole class chimed in, "Yeah, yeah!"

"That must mean ugly teachers give more homework."

Holly Winslow just smiled and raised the book in her hand. "Now then, let’s continue where Mr. Langdon left off in the last class..."

Back in the teachers’ office, Mr. Langdon asked her how the class went and if the students were keeping up.

Holly Winslow nodded. "They can. There’s just a lot of fidgeting."

Mr. Langdon nodded in understanding. "Teacher Winslow, feel free to call them out and reprimand them."

During fourth period, while Holly Winslow was teaching, Mr. Langdon stood observing by the back door of the classroom. Several students who accidentally caught his eye had expressions that screamed, ’It’s over, we’re doomed.’

Holding her book, Holly Winslow almost burst out laughing. She had to turn her back to the class and start writing on the board with a piece of chalk.

’These students are exactly like we were back in the day.’

When class ended, she took pity on them and assigned a bit less homework. It was Friday, after all.

"Class, do your homework properly. There aren’t many problems, so don’t just scribble nonsense or copy from someone else. If I catch even one of you, you’ll be copying every formula in the Chapter twenty times."

The students all promised they would, but she knew very few of them were actually listening. Holly Winslow understood; school was out for the weekend. ’Hmph. They’ll remember who I am come Sunday.’

’After all, I’m a perfectly competent and strict teacher.’

After teaching for most of the day, she was off again for a two-day weekend.

Holly Winslow finally got some downtime. She slept in, not lazily rolling out of bed to eat and do laundry until after ten.

She set aside Mortimer Quincy’s suits to be taken to the dry cleaner’s later.

’Ahem. In her last life, she had ruined several of his suits.’

’It wasn’t really her fault. Mortimer Quincy had never told her how expensive the suits were.’

’Besides, when she’d asked if she could wash them, he’d said yes.’

’And then she washed them, and they were ruined.’

’And that rascal Mortimer Quincy had even insisted it was the clothes’ fault, not hers.’

She chuckled out loud at the memory.