Charlotte beamed, and her eyes squinted; she raised her tender arms and picked more grapes.
After a while, Summer felt fatigued in her arms; they were sore and numb and could hardly carry Charlotte any longer.
Just as she prepared to put Charlotte down so she could rest her arms, Mark had swiftly stretched out his arms and carried Charlotte.
Dumbfounded, Summer stared at his back for a moment and then retracted her gaze.
Mark was athletic and could naturally carry Charlotte t o a greater height. Reaching out her hand, Charlotte plucked a purple-reddish grape. "Mommy, ahh.”
Seeing the compelling look on the little one, she couldn't resist but walked up and ate it.
The grapes here were different from the ones available in the shops; they were fresh, sweet, and very juicy.
Retracting her hand, she plucked a tiny and unripe grape and looked at Mark mischievously; in a soft voice, she said, "Uncle, ahh."
Mark couldn't tell what she had in mind; he twitched his eyes but kept his mouth closed.
"Is uncle not happy with the grape that I give?" she
blinked, "uncle doesn't want it because he must hate m e; if it was uncle Dean or uncle Handsome, they would have eaten it."
He couldn't bear himself being compared with them. H e leaned forward and took the grape she held with his mouth.
Suddenly, his mouth was filled with a bitter and sour taste. Mark's throat rumbled; the sourness caused him to flinch, and his handsome face became a little crooked.
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