Breakfast and Beginnings?
Celeste stirred awake to the smell of something... suspiciously good.
Pancakes?
She blinked against the soft sunlight seeping through her old bedroom curtains. For a split second, everything felt normal. Peaceful. Like she was seventeen again, waking up on a lazy Sunday. Until the events of last night came crashing back in.
Family dinner. Parental scheming. Thunderstorm. Adrian.
His words echoed in her head.
"I'm going to make you fall in love with me again."
She groaned into her pillow, burying her face in it. This wasn't happening. This couldn't be happening. They were supposed to finalize a divorce in thirty days, not... flirt over filet mignon and get trapped in a house together like some twisted K-drama setup.
She rolled over and reached for her phone. Dead.
Of course.
She trudged out of her room, still in her pajamas—an oversized shirt and shorts—half-expecting to find the house empty.
Instead, she nearly walked into Adrian.
He stood in the kitchen wearing a plain white shirt and gray sweatpants, barefoot, his hair slightly tousled from sleep. He looked infuriatingly domestic.
And holding... a spatula?
He blinked at her, then grinned. "Morning."
She stared. "Are you... cooking?"
"I Googled how to make pancakes," he said proudly, flipping one with an awkward flourish. "Didn't know I had it in me."
Celeste narrowed her eyes. "Who are you, and what did you do to the Adrian Sinclair who used to order room service at 2 a.m. because he didn't know where the forks were?"
"That guy is dead," he said solemnly. "You're talking to Pancake Adrian now."
She rolled her eyes but smiled despite herself. "What's the catch?"
He set a plate in front of her at the breakfast island. "No catch. Just thought I'd make you breakfast. Maybe charm you a little. Court you."
She paused, mid-reach for the syrup. "Court me?"
He nodded. "That's how it goes, right?"
"You're taking this seriously?"
"I told you I would," he said simply. "I missed three years of chances. I don't plan on wasting the next thirty days."
Her heart fluttered, but she masked it with sarcasm. "So this is your grand plan? Pancakes?"
"I also made coffee. And I set your alarm to your favorite old song. But your phone died, so that part flopped."
She raised an eyebrow. "What song?"
He cleared his throat dramatically and began to hum "Baby I'm Yours" by Arctic Monkeys—off key, shameless, and clearly trying to be funny.
Celeste choked on laughter. "Stop. That's illegal."
"But look at you, laughing. I'd say that's progress." His grin widened, a little proud of himself.
She shook her head, cheeks warm. "You're ridiculous."
"Ridiculously in love with you," he said smoothly, eyes twinkling.
She froze, spoon halfway to her mouth.
He caught the hesitation and gently added, "Too much?"
"A little," she said, voice quiet.
He nodded. "Okay. Then I'll take it slow. But don't think I won't keep trying."
She looked down at her plate to hide the way her lips curled. This man—this version of Adrian—was throwing her off balance, and she hated how easily he was doing it.
After breakfast, she padded into the living room, and he followed, two mugs of coffee in hand.
They sat on the floor, backs against the couch like they used to during late study nights in college. She took a sip of the coffee and made a face.
"This has... cinnamon?"
He looked hopeful. "You like cinnamon."
"Yeah, in cookies. Not in coffee."
He winced. "Noted. Trial and error."
She smirked. "This is gonna be fun for me."
Adrian chuckled. "Good. I want to make you laugh again. I used to love the sound of it."
Celeste's heart skipped. "You're doing it again."
"What?"
"Saying things that make it hard to keep my guard up."
He leaned a little closer, resting his arm along the back of the couch behind her. "Then let your guard down. Just for today."
She turned to look at him, their faces suddenly too close. The air between them shifted—soft, electric.
"You're dangerous like this," she whispered. "Charming. Flirty. Making pancakes and acting like the guy I wished you'd been."
"I was always that guy," he murmured. "I was just too scared to show it."
Her breath caught.
Then the power flickered back on with a loud click, breaking the moment.
They both blinked at the now-lit room.
Celeste stood quickly. "Well, power's back. Time to leave."
Adrian stood too, slower, more intentional. "Yeah, but you haven't answered me yet."
"About what?"
"Whether you're giving me a chance."
She folded her arms, trying to ignore the pounding in her chest. "This doesn't change anything, Adrian. We're still getting divorced."
"I know," he said softly. "But I'm still going to make you fall in love with me again."
She turned to leave, but he called after her, "And Celeste?"
She paused, half turning.
"You're already smiling more than yesterday," he said, that same confident, boyish grin on his face. "That's a win in my book."
She rolled her eyes but couldn't hide the blush. "Shut up."