Dinner and Deception
Celeste Lancaster wasn't exactly thrilled about a "family dinner" with her parents that evening.
"We haven't seen you properly in months," Eleanor had said sweetly over the phone. "Charles and I miss our little girl. Besides, we invited another couple over. It'll be fun."
Celeste didn't even think twice. She needed a break from the emotional spiral she'd been in since she walked out of the Civil Affairs Bureau. A nice, harmless dinner with her parents sounded... safe.
Until it wasn't.
Because the moment the door of the Lancaster estate opened, and she stepped inside, she found herself face-to-face with none other than—
"Adrian?!" she blurted, eyes wide.
Adrian Sinclair blinked at her, just as stunned. "Celeste?"
He looked too good, of course. Perfect black dress shirt, sleeves rolled just enough to show his veins, and that ever-composed face of his. The same man she almost divorced—no, the same man she did divorce... technically.
Before either of them could recover, Eleanor swooped in between them like a cheerful storm. "Oh, look at the both of you! How lovely that you arrived at the same time!"
Celeste's jaw dropped. "Mom—"
But Margaret Sinclair appeared next to Eleanor, looping her arm around Adrian's. "We were just saying how tragic it is that we barely see each other anymore. So, we thought—why not fix that?"
"You set us up?" Adrian's voice was low, but there was a sharp edge.
"Oh please," Arthur Sinclair said as he walked in with Charles. "You two practically made headlines this morning. The entire city saw you walking out of the Civil Affairs Bureau. You might as well have held up a sign saying, 'We're getting divorced.'"
Charles shrugged. "Might as well use the attention for a publicity bump. But really, we're just worried about you kids."
Eleanor grinned. "So we arranged this dinner. Just the six of us. No pressure. Just love, wine, and maybe... a little healing."
Celeste looked at her mom like she'd grown a second head. "You tricked us!"
"Technically," Margaret said primly, "we omitted the truth."
Adrian turned toward Celeste. "Did you know about this?"
Celeste scoffed. "Do I look like I knew about this?"
Margaret gave a little clap. "Great! Let's head to the dining room."
Trapped. They were absolutely trapped.
?
Dinner was chaos.
Eleanor and Margaret took turns playing innocent matchmakers while Arthur and Charles argued over the best wine pairing. The food smelled amazing, and the long table looked beautiful—but the atmosphere between Adrian and Celeste was... awkward.
Until Adrian did something that made Celeste freeze.
She was quietly struggling to cut her steak, her appetite barely hanging on by a thread. Without saying a word, Adrian reached over to his own plate, expertly sliced his steak into perfect bite-sized pieces, and casually switched their plates.
She stared at the now-cut steak in front of her.
"What—?"
"You were struggling," he said. Adrian, not even looking up from pouring her wine next, replied smoothly, "You always hate doing it yourself. I remembered."
Celeste blinked again. "You remember that?"
He didn't reply. He just offered her a glass of red wine, refilled from the decanter, and then leaned toward her a little, his voice just low enough for her to hear, "And you always prefer it medium rare, not medium. Your mom always forgets."
"Okay, what is this?" she whispered, squinting at him suspiciously. "Are you flirting with me?"
"Do you want me to flirt with you?" he asked, his smile mischievous. "I could do that."
Celeste nearly choked on her wine.
Meanwhile, Eleanor whispered not-so-quietly to Margaret, "Oh, did you see that? He gave her his plate. Charles hasn't done that for me since the 90s."
Charles, mid-bite, frowned. "I offered you my dessert last week."
"That's not the same, dear."
Eleanor coughed—loudly. "AHEM. Okay. Kids, why don't we do a toast to... love?"
"Mooom," Celeste groaned.
"To communication," Adrian's father corrected.
"To grandchildren," Eleanor grinned.
"MOM!"
Adrian chuckled under his breath, eyes not leaving Celeste's flustered face.
Throughout dinner, he was different.
He passed her napkin when she dropped hers.
Reached across the table to remove a stray grain of rice on her cheek with his thumb.
Whispered "you've got sauce here," and dabbed her lip with his own napkin.
His leg "accidentally" brushed against hers under the table, and when she glanced at him, he only winked.
Celeste was short-circuiting. This was not the Adrian she had married.
Even their parents noticed. Eleanor was nudging Celeste with her elbow. Adrian's mom was mouthing something like "He's trying, sweetie!" from across the table.
By the time dessert rolled around, everyone was comfortably full and tipsy. The wine had loosened lips and moods. Eleanor and Margaret exchanged satisfied nods. Arthur was half asleep on the couch. Charles was already discussing vacation plans "for the kids, obviously."
And then thunder rumbled.
Followed by a loud crash of rain.
Celeste groaned. "I didn't bring an umbrella."
Margaret raised an eyebrow. "Oh, didn't I mention? Your dad and I decided to stay overnight with Charles and Eleanor. The storm's getting bad."
Eleanor's eyes sparkled. "And your car's blocked in by the gardener's truck. He went home hours ago."
Celeste narrowed her eyes. "Are you saying I'm stuck here?"
"Not just you," Charles said casually. "Adrian's car is boxed in too."
Adrian turned toward their parents. "You're kidding."
But they weren't. Within minutes, the four older schemers had retreated upstairs to "catch up," leaving Adrian and Celeste alone in the large Lancaster home, thunder rumbling outside like a soundtrack to a cheesy romance movie.
Celeste stood in the hallway, arms crossed.
"This is ridiculous," she muttered.
Adrian leaned against the wall. "They're not even being subtle anymore."
"They actually locked the wine cellar," she added. "That's evil."
He chuckled softly, rubbing the back of his neck. "You want to sleep in the guest room?"
"No. I'll sleep in my old room. You take the guest."
He nodded.
But neither of them moved.
The silence grew heavy between them, filled with things unsaid. With memories. With regrets.
Then Adrian took a step toward her. "Celeste."
She looked up at him, eyes guarded.
"I know I acted cold before. I thought I was doing the right thing," he said, voice quiet. "I thought... you were in love with someone else. That I was just the guy who forced you into marriage. So I kept my distance. I didn't want to make it harder for you."
Celeste swallowed, heart thudding.
"I didn't know," he continued. "That it was me you loved all along."
Tears pricked the back of her eyes. "Adrian—"
He stepped closer, close enough to touch her, but didn't. "I don't want this to be the end."
She looked away, shaking her head. "It's too late. I've already filed for the divorce. I need to let go. I need to love myself this time."
"I know," he said. "And I respect that. But I'm not giving up."
She turned to him, confused. "What do you mean?"
His voice was soft but certain. "You've loved me for three years. Let me spend every day trying to return that love the way you deserved from the start."
Celeste's breath caught.
"I'm going to make you fall in love with me again," he whispered, his hand brushing hers just slightly. "And this time, I won't hold back."
She froze, heart pounding wildly in her chest.
He gave her a small smile before turning away toward the guest room.
She stood there, stunned, her hand still tingling where he touched her. Her heart betrayed her, fluttering like it did all those years ago.
Outside, the rain poured harder.
Inside, something had shifted.