Dearest lying husband, chase me

CHAPTER ONE Petunia I felt kisses all over my skin. I giggled, my eyes still tightly closed. "Lolo, stop..." I said, a smile forming on my lips. Then a wet tongue flicked across my face. I jumped out of bed and saw Logan grinning playfully at me, while Austin, my dog, wagged his tail and strutted out the door. I licked my lips, feeling embarrassed, and stood up. "You were just embarrassed," Logan teased. I shook my head and replied, "No, why would I be?" "You thought I was going to kiss you, didn't you?" he said, laughing. I'd been caught. "Okay, I admit it. But I know you wouldn't do something like that," I said. "Why wouldn't I kiss my wife?" He pulled me into his arms as he got out of bed. "I love you, Pet," he added, kissing my cheek and making my face flush pink. I smiled and tapped him on the nose with my finger. "You know I hate that," he said. Just as I was about to reply, a car horn blared at the gate, interrupting me. I went to the window and saw the family lawyer. "What's he doing here? Is there a problem?" I asked. He smiled nervously. "It's nothing serious, baby. I just need to talk to him about a few things," he replied. He stepped back and headed toward the door. "You're going out, right?" he asked. A phone call interrupted us. "Work?" he asked, and I nodded. He gave me a warm smile and left. ~ Rural Director calling ~ "Good morning, Dr. Salinger, excuse the interruption, but—" I interrupted him: "I'm coming." I hung up and went to the bathroom. After getting dressed, I went downstairs and found Logan and Thomas deep in conversation, barely audible. It sounded more like whispering. "Honey, I don't know what you two are talking about, but you'd better not try to divorce me!" I said. Thomas smiled nervously. I grinned: "Thomas, I'd love to offer you a cup of coffee, but as you can see, I'm in a hurry." “Make yourself at home. My home is my home! Don’t think I meant to say ‘yours,’” I spat out and walked away. Nothing good ever came from meeting with Thomas. I received an urgent call from the second hospital regarding a patient who had been transferred to us three weeks earlier from a rural hospital. She was now in my care and had regained consciousness after four days of silence. As I entered the hospital and approached her room, I noticed a group of nurses and doctors gathered outside. “What’s going on?” I asked. “She’s a psychopath,” the attending physician replied. “She’s been making a scene ever since I called you.” I sighed, my shoulders slumped slightly, and I was about to go inside when one of the nurses took my hand. “Don’t go in, it’s too dangerous. I can’t let you die. You’re my favorite surgeon.” My lips formed a reassuring smile as I patted her hand. "I'll survive, don't worry." With a composed expression, I stepped into the room. “Miss Wendy Bright?” Surprisingly, she calmed down. “Finally, someone respects me. Who are you?” I chuckled softly; the sound released the tension. “I’m the surgeon who operated on you. Petunia Salinger.” “Uh, same last name.” “What do you mean? Your last name is Bright.” She smiled mischievously. “Not anymore. I’m a Salinger too.” “So many Salingers in this world, huh,” I said, trying to lighten the mood. “Do you feel much better now?” I asked. “You know… my husband is very sweet. My son is just like him.” Her eyes sparkled. I smiled sincerely. “That’s sweet!” “Do you have a child?” she asked, her gaze piercing. My heart skipped a beat. I hesitated, my eyes darting downwards. “No.” She smiled sympathetically, her expression softening. "Don't worry, you'll be pregnant soon. You'll make it happen." "Why should I? I can make anything happen. It's not my time yet." She grinned. "Sure." "If you're planning a big naming ceremony..." she said, taking a business card from her purse. "I'm an event planner." She beamed as I took the card, raising an eyebrow at its dated design. "He's on his way here with a bouquet of flowers, as always," Wendy continued, her eyes sparkling. "Your husband is coming? You're a truly lucky woman," I said, smiling. "Yes, he's the best." "My husband often brings me bouquets of flowers too," I said, my cheeks warming. Wendy's expression darkened, her brow furrowing. "He's here." The door slid open, and a tall figure entered carrying a bouquet of flowers. His shoes immediately caught my eye. "You must be Mrs. Wendy's husband. Well, hello, sir." When our eyes met, my world froze. Her husband was my husband—Logan. "Nice to meet you, sir. I've heard so much about you. I'm Petunia Salinger." Logan's handshake was soft and familiar. The scent of the hand cream I'd given him yesterday lingered in the air. "My wife's surgeon. Nice to meet you too," he said, smiling. As Wendy took the flowers and blushed, her phone rang. She answered it, her voice barely audible. I turned to Logan, my voice barely more than a whisper. "You bastard. You are." "I know. Stay cool. Let's not embarrass ourselves," he whispered back.