Chapter 259
Cecilia’s pov
Sebastian shot Liam a look so cold it could have flash-frozen a volcano.
I silently groaned. Really, Liam? Did we have to start the morning by broadcasting my ten-day nutritional negligence?
Across the table, Harper bit her lip, clearly holding back laughter.
“Is this your usual breakfast?” my mom asked Sebastian, eyeing the health-conscious spread like it was a science experiment.
After a pause, she gave a polite but stiff smile.
“The dietary habits of the wealthy are certainly… unique p>
Yeah, “unique” was one word for it.
I kept my eyes on my plate and focused on cutting my protein pancake into perfect squares, pretending this conversation didn’t exist.
Liam, clearly realizing he’d stirred enough drama, stood up with a smile.
“Muffin looks hungry. I’ll grab him a snack p>
He scooped up the cat, who wrapped his paws around Liam’s arm like a baby koala.
Sebastian, ignoring Liam’s kale-nutrient smoothie, reached for the homemade breakfast my mom had prepared instead.
He picked up one of her blueberry scones with such deliberate appreciation, you’d think it was served on a gold plate.
After taking a bite, he looked straight at my mom.
“Did you bake these yourself, Mrs. Moore p>
She’d been watching him the entire time, skeptical but observant.
“What makes you think I did?” she asked, clearly intrigued despite herself.
“The crust is crisp, but not overdone. The blueberries are fresh, not canned, and the sugar is just enough to enhance, not overpower. That kind of restraint only comes from someone who truly enjoys creating—not just cooking. It’s thoughtful. Like you p>
I blinked. Harper stopped mid-chew.
[Seriously? Is he trying to win my mom over with a pastry TED Talk p>
But it worked.
Mom’s lips twitched. That compliment hit her right where it counted.
“Well… I do enjoy baking when I have time,” she admitted, carefully casual.
Sebastian smiled, eyes crinkling at the corners like a man who knew exactly what he was doing.
“It shows. Cecilia clearly inherited your talent and your grace p>
Okay. That was a triple threat: complimenting her, her skills, and me in one sentence.
Mothers everywhere, beware.
“It’s just a hobby,” my mom said, but she was already softening.
“Even hobbies can be art in the right hands,” Sebastian replied smoothly, reaching for another scone.
Harper and I stared at him, then at the scones.
Maybe we’d misjudged them.
We each grabbed one and took a bite.
And then… our expressions flatlined.
My mom, classic her, didn’t bother with much seasoning. Just enough salt to say it was there.
The filling? Yeah, “delicate” and “natural” in that way where you wonder if she forgot the spices on purpose.
And yet this man made them sound like a James Beard Award-winning recipe.
If he ever quit being an Alpha, he could sell ice to Eskimos.
But somehow, it worked.
The awkwardness faded.Turns out, a well-timed compliment can be a pretty powerful thing.
My mom wasn’t naive. She knew he was turning on the charm.
But he did it with such sincerity, she let it slide.
After breakfast, Sebastian stood up and turned to me.
“Rest today. I’ll see you at work tomorrow p>
I gave him a small nod, leaning into my “recovering from a fever” performance.
Which, honestly, wasn’t much of a performance. I felt like I’d been hit by a truck.
Harper and my mom helped me back to bed.
Earlier, I’d thrown open the windows to air out the room and straightened the sheets.
But apparently, I’d missed something.
A tube of ointment had rolled near the pillow.
As Harper helped me settle under the covers, she spotted it. Reached for it. Read the label.
And froze.
Her cheeks turned scarlet.
It was external-use ointment. For swelling.
A very specific kind of swelling.
I shifted in bed, wincing slightly.
Harper did the math and got a very graphic answer.
“Harper, are you alright? Your face is red,” my mom said, leaning closer.
“Oh! I’m fine. Totally fine,” Harper stammered, quickly pushing the tube under the pillow.
“Just… a warm flush. No fever. Promise p>
I resisted the urge to groan.
Thankfully, my mom didn’t press.
Harper shot me a look that was half horror, half sympathy, then made a quick exit.”I’ll go help with the dishes p>
Now it was just me and my mom.
My heart thudded. The Big Talk was coming.
She sat on the edge of the bed, watching me quietly.
“Do you have real feelings for him?” she asked.
I swallowed hard.
Did I? After a long pause, I nodded.
“Yes. I do.” I’d told myself not to fall and it was temporary.
But you don’t share yourself like that with someone unless it means something.
“You’ve already taken that step,” she said carefully.”What are your intentions now p>
Silence.
What were my intentions?
End it before it got serious?
Keep pretending it wasn’t real?
I shook my head, helpless.
My mom’s expression tightened.
“You jumped in without thinking. That’s not like you p>
She rubbed her temples.
“You’re a grown woman. You deserve respect from others and from yourself p>
“I’m sorry,” I whispered.
“I’m not angry because of what happened,” she said.
“I’m upset because I want you to protect your heart p>
She sighed.
“Look, if you’re not in it for real, end it now.But if you actually feel something, stop running scared.Be honest. He deserves that. So do you p>
Her tone softened.
“Whatever you choose, your father and I are behind you. Always p>
That hit me harder than any lecture.
Tears stung my eyes. I leaned forward and hugged her.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered again.
“Don’t be. Just be sure this is what you want p>
She stroked my hair gently.
“I always thought maybe you’d end up with someone like Simon. But Sebastian… he’s something else p>
She added, half to herself,
“Maybe this is what you were meant for. “