Jason couldn''t help but frown as he noticed Monica''s scattered thoughts. "Monica," he said, his tone firm, "she''s my buddy''s wife. Some jokes are fine, but there''s a line. Not everything''s aughing matter." Monica could tell Jason was annoyed and pouted. "I was just asking, for crying out loud."


    "No need to change shoes-just wash up. Dinner''s ready," Jason said curtly before heading to the bathroom.


    Alisa brought out some cutlery, and a somewhat embarrassed Monica followed suit to wash her hands.


    Jason, being a cop, was a stickler for cleanliness, always insisting on using sanitizer before meals.


    Monica teased him for being overly prim and proper, chiding, "What''s with Mr. Clean here? Since when do tough guys need to be so spotless?"


    Soon, the trio sat down to eat. Monica regretteding; she felt out of ce. Leaving now, though, would be awkward.


    Internally, Monica grumbled about Jason''s stinginess. He''d invited her for dinner, but it wasn''t a fancy night out or a home-cooked feast by his own hands. But she kept chatting away, despite her inner gripes. "Jason, try this chicken noodle soup," Alisa offered,dling some into his bowl with a caring touch. "It''s good for the soul."


    "Thanks, Alisa," Jason said with a polite nod.


    Alisa''s gaze lingered on Jason with a softness that only a woman in love could have.


    After tasting the soup and finding it delicious, Jason served Monica a bowl, saying, "You''re always in dusty ces with me. Have some-it''ll do you good."


    "Aw, you do care," Monica replied with a chuckle, sipping the soup. "Alisa, you''ve outdone yourself. This is scrumptious."


    Alisa watched their exchange, her eyes clouding over with a touch of sadness as she murmured, "Just takes practice." "Where''s I?" Jason inquired.


    "I dropped her off at her grandma''s. She was missing her," Alisa exined.


    "How''s your aunt holding up?" Jason asked.


    "She''s been under the weather, catching colds now and then. With Will''s anniversary approaching, the old couple''s feeling down. They thought having I around might cheer them up," Alisa said, her voice tinged with sorrow. Jason''s expression darkened with guilt and sadness.


    Monica felt out of ce, clueless about who Will or I were. She stayed quiet and focused on her meal.


    Jason''s phone rang then, and seeing it was a call from the station, he excused himself to take it in another room.


    Once he was gone, Alisa turned to Monica, who was still eating, and said, "Monica, you''re so pretty, and your hands are so delicate-not the hands of a cop."


    Monica eximed, "Alisa, you''ve got quite the eye! You''re right, I don''t work at the station. I own a beauty salon. You should drop by sometime; I''ll give you a discount."


    The offer was in jest, but Alisa''s response came with a snide undertone, "Beauty salons are just money pits. I can''t afford such luxuries, but thanks for the offer, Monica." Monica was left somewhat speechless.


    After an awkward chuckle, Alisa probed again, "A beauty like you must have a boyfriend, right?"


    Monica shook her head. "Not at the moment."


    "No boyfriend? With your looks? That''s hard to believe."


    Monicaughed shyly, "I''ve had a few, but it never worked out. I''ve been unlucky, always finding guys who just wanted my money, living off me." "That''s not surprising, given your smarts," Jason said, suddenly reappearing.


    Monica bristled. "It''s just bad luck. I''m a catch-sessful, beautiful, great figure, the whole package. Any man who passes me up is missing out." Jason cast a nce at Monica''s chest and dryly remarked, "That''s debatable."


    Monica was left speechless, her cheeks burning with indignation.