Home Sweet Home. and Some Teasing
Celeste had just finished fluffing Adrian's pillows like a responsible almost-ex-wife-slash-maybe-something-more when—
The hospital door slammed open like it was kicked by an action star.
"CELESTE!"
A blur of designer heels, flowing hair, and rage stormed into the room. Celeste barely had time to blink before she was tackled into an aggressive Gucci-scented hug.
"M-Mia?!"
Mia gripped her tighter. "Don't speak. Just breathe. You're alive. Oh my God, I was ready to start planning your funeral!"
Celeste blinked. "What—?"
Mia pulled back, eyes wild. "Tell me the truth. Are you dizzy? Do you see stars? Are your internal organs intact?!"
Celeste blinked again. "Mia—"
"On a scale of 1 to 10, how dramatic was the car crash? Did your life flash before your eyes? Should I sue the entire country on your behalf?!"
"I... wasn't hit."
Mia froze.
Celeste tilted her head toward the hospital bed. "He was."
Mia blinked at Adrian.
Then blinked again.
Then her face smoothed into a complete 180-degree transformation.
"Oh," she said brightly, flicking her hair. "Well. Thank God it wasn't you."
Adrian, who had been quietly enjoying the show, choked on his own air. "Wow. Thank you, Mia. I feel so loved."
Mia turned to him with a gracious smile. "You'll live. You're like a cockroach—impossible to get rid of."
Celeste bit back a laugh.
Adrian raised a brow. "I got hit by a car."
Mia fluttered her lashes. "And yet you still managed to flirt with Celeste while injured. Truly inspiring."
Adrian grinned. "It's a skill."
Mia turned back to Celeste, grabbing her hands. "I leave for few weeks and come back to find you on the brink of divorce, in the middle of a scandal, and making out with your husband in a hospital room. Honestly, I expected nothing less."
Celeste turned red. "We did not make out."
Adrian: "We did."
Celeste: "SHUT UP."
Mia squealed. "I demand details. How much tongue was involved? Was there moaning? Did a nurse catch you mid-smooch?"
"I hate everything," Celeste muttered, burying her face in her hands.
Adrian looked smug. "She kissed me first."
Mia gasped so dramatically it echoed. "You WHAT?"
"I said—"
"NOPE," Celeste interrupted, grabbing her bag. "We are leaving. Right now."
"But I haven't interrogated you properly!" Mia wailed.
"You'll live," Celeste echoed Adrian's earlier words.
Adrian winked at Mia. "See? She learns fast."
Mia sighed, dreamy-eyed. "You two are disgustingly cute."
Celeste stormed out with Mia trailing behind, shouting, "Wait! Did you touch his abs?! Did he groan?!"
?
As the doctor finished giving instructions, the room felt like a family reunion... if the family were dramatic millionaires with zero filter.
"No heavy lifting," the doctor said, addressing Adrian. "And absolutely no physical exertion."
Arthur Sinclair let out a tragic sigh, clutching his chest like he'd just received news of a national emergency. "So... no grandchildren yet?"
Celeste choked on air. "What the—?!"
Eleanor, ever supportive, nodded. "Such a shame. They were clearly reconnecting so well."
"Mom!"
Adrian, clearly loving this, smirked. "Guess we'll have to wait."
Celeste glared at him. "I swear if you say one more word—"
"Babies," he whispered.
"ADRIAN!"
?
The car ride was suspiciously quiet. Celeste kept glancing at Adrian like he might suddenly faint or propose—honestly, she wasn't sure which was worse.
At the mansion, she went full nurse mode.
"Sit down. Do not move. Don't breathe too aggressively."
Adrian smirked. "You're so bossy when you're worried."
"I'm not worried. I just don't want your blood on my rug."
"That's romantic."
She handed him a glass of water and turned away, mumbling. "You're lucky you're hot."
"What was that?"
"Nothing!"
?
Later that evening, Celeste walked into the bedroom to find Adrian half-naked, struggling with his shirt like it personally wronged him.
"Need help?" she asked, trying to sound casual but internally panicking.
"Oh, yes please," he said like he'd been waiting for that moment his whole life.
She walked over, gently pulling the fabric up and over his head.
And froze.
Because—abs.
She forgot what breathing was. Or blinking. Or basic cognitive function.
Her brain: We're in danger.
Adrian smirked. "You okay there, sweetheart?"
"I—I'm fine," she said, staring very hard at the ceiling.
"If you're offering to help undress me, I might also need assistance in the bath..."
Celeste flinched. "Absolutely not."
"C'mon," he teased, voice dropping. "I'm injured. What if I slip? You want to live with that guilt?"
"I'll risk it."
Adrian pouted. "You're cold, Lancaster."
"You're insufferable, Sinclair."
He took a step closer, very aware of how shirtless he was. "Just admit it—you want to help."
She snorted. "The only thing I want to help is gravity so you fall flat on your smug face."
Adrian laughed, backing away with a dramatic bow. "Alright, alright. I'll go bathe alone. Tragic."
As he walked past her, he leaned in, lips brushing her ear. "But if you change your mind..."
She shoved him.
He grinned.