Breakfast in Bed and Pajamas of War
The scent of something savory wafted through the hallway, stirring Adrian awake.
He blinked against the morning light peeking through the curtains and reached beside him—empty. Celeste wasn't there. But her warmth still lingered.
Stretching, he got up and padded out of the room, only to stop short at the sound of humming.
Emily was in the kitchen, wearing his apron, spatula in hand, flipping eggs like she owned the place.
"Morning," she chirped, turning toward him with a bright smile. "Celeste still asleep? Doesn't she usually wake up early to make you breakfast?"
Adrian raised an eyebrow as he headed toward the counter. "Celeste doesn't have to do anything. Just living with me again is already enough."
He reached for a pan and began pulling out ingredients from the fridge.
Emily blinked. "Wait... you cook now?"
Adrian smirked faintly, cracking an egg. "I do."
"But you always said it was a waste of time. That you had more important things to do."
Adrian stirred the batter, his voice softening. "I learned for Celeste. It's one of the small ways I'm making up for how I treated her before."
Emily paused mid-stir. "So you're Celeste's... maid now?" she said, jokingly, but the sarcasm clung to her words. "Cooking? That's usually a woman's job, Adrian."
He looked her dead in the eye. "I don't care about my pride. If it means Celeste won't divorce me, I'll do whatever it takes."
Emily's smile faltered, lips pressing into a tight line.
She turned back to the stove while Adrian focused on perfecting the pancakes—fluffy, golden, with strawberries and butter on top, just how Celeste liked them.
He poured her coffee exactly the way she liked it, set a bowl of fresh berries beside it, and picked a flower from the vase he'd bought her two days ago.
Carefully, he arranged everything on a small breakfast tray.
Then he made his way upstairs.
He nudged the bedroom door open and walked in, tray in hand. Celeste was curled under the covers, her hair splayed like ink across the pillow. Adrian leaned down and gently pressed a kiss to her temple.
Celeste stirred, eyes fluttering open. She blinked groggily at him. "What...?"
"I'm sorry about last night," he said softly, offering her a sheepish smile. "I made you breakfast."
Her gaze dropped to the tray, eyes widening just slightly at the perfect stack of pancakes, the fresh coffee, the single flower nestled beside the plate. Her heart stuttered—just a little.
"I... see." She sat up, pulling the blanket around her shoulders, still pretending not to be impressed. "You bribing me with food now?"
Adrian chuckled. "If that's what it takes."
Celeste fought back a smile. "This doesn't make up for the pajama incident."
He placed the tray gently on her lap. "No. But I'm starting with breakfast. I'll work my way up to the pajamas."
Celeste arched a brow but began eating in silence. Adrian watched her like he was memorizing every bite.
When she finished, he took the tray, brushing his fingers lightly over hers. Her expression stayed cool, but he caught the faintest twitch of her lips. Progress.
Downstairs, Emily was already at the dining table, sipping coffee and flipping through her phone, still wearing Adrian's favorite pajamas.
Celeste descended after Adrian, and the moment her eyes landed on Emily, that same flare of jealousy sparked—but she masked it quickly.
Adrian went straight to the kitchen to put the tray away. Celeste, on the other hand, took a seat across from Emily.
"Had breakfast alone?" she asked, voice casual, but her eyes gleamed with something sharper.
Emily glanced up, clearly catching the double meaning. "It was quiet," she replied sweetly, then looked away.
When Adrian returned, he placed a hand gently on Celeste's back, standing beside her.
"Emily," he started, tone firm, "what exactly happened last night?"
Celeste leaned forward. "Did you recognize anyone? Do you have any idea who those people were?"
Emily's face turned pale. "I... I don't know them.
I was walking back to my place when I felt like someone was following me.
When I started to run, they chased me. I panicked.
" Her voice trembled, eyes wide with fear.
"Maybe it's because I'm a senator's daughter. Could be anyone, right?"
Tears welled up as she added, "I was so scared. I thought—what if they caught me? What if no one found me?"
Her voice cracked, and she buried her face in her hands, shaking.
Celeste blinked, taken aback. The jealousy in her chest softened into guilt. She reached out, awkwardly patting Emily's arm.
"I'm sorry that happened to you," she said, even if the words tasted odd in her mouth.
Adrian nodded. "I already called your father. Someone's coming to pick you up this morning."
Emily looked up, eyes wide. "Can you take me instead? I'm still really shaken..."
Celeste's brow arched, but she said nothing. She knew the fear. She'd lived through it. Maybe Emily was just traumatized.
But Adrian gave a gentle shake of his head. "I'm taking Celeste shopping today."
Celeste turned to him, surprised. "We are?"
Adrian smiled at her. "I owe you a couple of pajama sets. Maybe if you pick them out yourself, you won't be mad at me anymore."
Celeste tried not to grin. "Maybe."
Emily's eyes narrowed, but she forced a smile. "Oh. Well... I'll have your pajamas washed and return them."
Adrian shook his head. "Keep them."
Emily blinked. "But it's your favorite."
Adrian shrugged, eyes never leaving Celeste. "I'll get a new favorite. Whatever Celeste picks."
Celeste's heart skipped a beat.
Emily didn't respond. Couldn't. She just smiled tightly and nodded, her hands clenched in her lap.
—
Later that morning, Emily's chaperone arrived, and she bid them goodbye with a strained smile.
Celeste and Adrian left shortly after, heading to one of the most exclusive malls in the city. The moment they entered, they were ushered in like royalty—champagne offered, velvet ropes parting, private lounges opened just for them.
Celeste browsed through silk nightwear and cotton sets, and Adrian followed her like a lovestruck puppy.
"I like this one," she said, holding up a deep sapphire set.
"Then that's the one I'm wearing next," Adrian replied, dead serious.
Celeste rolled her eyes, hiding her smile.
He draped his arm around her as they walked. "You've been smiling more today," he noted.
"I have not."
"You have. You're trying not to right now."
She turned away. "You're imagining things."
He grinned and kissed her temple. "Maybe. But I'm liking what I'm imagining."
Eventually, Adrian excused himself to "go to the bathroom." Celeste didn't think much of it—until he returned ten minutes later with a bouquet of white tulips and pale pink roses in his hand.
"For you," he said, offering them with a hopeful smile. "To make up for every stupid thing I've done lately."
Celeste stared at the bouquet, then at him.
And then, finally, she smiled—fully, brightly, like sunshine breaking through storm clouds.
"You're still on thin ice," she teased, taking the flowers.
"I'll bring hot chocolate to melt it," he said softly.
Celeste shook her head, but the smile stayed.