Celine's days had become fuller — busier, brighter. She now went to the office two or three times a week, balancing her new role with quiet confidence. When she wasn't at HUB headquarters, she worked from home, Letty often by her side making sure everything was in order. On her free days, she liked tending to the estate — rearranging flowers, changing seasonal decor, and keeping the house's rhythm alive. Some afternoons, she accompanied her mother to social gatherings; others, she carved out little moments for herself.
Nathan, too, was juggling his own world. Even though he was away from his company's main office, he was always connected — video meetings, client calls, and frequent updates with Ben Rosenfield about their joint projects. Still, no matter how busy they both were, they always found a way to see each other — a quiet lunch here, a dinner date there, a drive that turned into an hour-long conversation parked under the stars.
Today, though, was reserved for Sadie.
It had been weeks since they'd spent proper time together, and both were determined to make the most of it. Sadie had texted Celine the night before with her plan: "Come early. We're baking and painting. No excuses."
By midmorning, Celine arrived at the Richards estate — her childhood second home. The drive wasn't long; their families had lived near each other for decades. The Richards' house stood warm and timeless, a white-panelled American-style home with a broad front porch, rocking chairs, and hanging ferns that swayed gently in the late spring breeze.
The maid greeted her at the door, taking the basket she carried and leading her to the kitchen.
Sadie was already there, hair up in a messy bun, sleeves rolled, surrounded by bowls, flour, sugar, and chaos.
"Finally!" she exclaimed, grinning. "I was starting to think you ditched me for Nathan."
Celine laughed, setting down the fresh nutmeg and cloves she'd brought. "He's not the clingy one here — you are."
Sadie gasped theatrically. "Excuse you! I grated all these carrots by hand this morning. You better appreciate that labor."
Celine smirked. "Of course you did. So… what do you need me for then?"
Sadie looked her up and down and pointed at the counter. "Everything else, my dear. Everything else."
They began their baking session — measuring flour, cracking eggs, sifting spices — all while talking and laughing like they always had. They teased each other over who mixed the batter wrong, who spilled sugar, who forgot to preheat the oven.
The kitchen smelled like cinnamon, butter, and warmth — the kind of scent that felt like comfort.
When they finally poured the batter into pans and slid it into the oven, they sank onto the bar stools, wiping their hands.
That's when the conversation turned softer.
Sadie leaned her elbows on the counter, watching Celine. "You know," she began gently, "I really like Nathan for you."
Celine blinked. "You do?"
Sadie nodded, smiling but serious. "It's not about comparing him to Dean — I'm done with that story. I just mean… he treats you the way you've always deserved to be treated. I see how he looks at you. How he listens."
Celine's throat tightened, her eyes stinging. "Thank you," she murmured, reaching out to squeeze Sadie's hand. "You always worry about me more than I do. You're really the sister I never had."
Sadie's eyes glistened, and before either could say more, they were hugging tight, laughing through tears.
"I love you so much!" Sadie said, voice muffled in Celine's shoulder.
"I love you too!" Celine replied, laughing as they both sniffled.
When they pulled apart, Celine exhaled, her expression turning thoughtful. "But just so you know," she admitted, "I'm not even sure what Nathan and I really are. It all started as a… deal, I guess. And somewhere along the way, I don't know — something changed. I just don't know when it stopped being pretend. Or if he feels it too."
Sadie frowned slightly. "Babe," she said softly, "you're overthinking it. The man's crazy about you. Do you know how obvious it is? If this were all an act, he wouldn't be putting in this much effort — not with your family, not with your happiness. I've seen the way he looks at you. That's not acting. That's someone in love."
Celine went quiet. Her heart fluttered at the word — love — like it was both too soon and already too late to deny it.
When the oven timer dinged, they jumped up, grateful for the distraction.
"Moment of truth," Sadie said, grabbing oven mitts.
The cake looked perfect — golden brown, fluffy, with the faintest scent of spice. They set it aside to cool, then headed to the patio for their next activity.
Sadie had already set up canvases, brushes, and small jars of paint under a canopy of trees. The light filtered through the leaves, dappling the wooden table with soft green shadows.
They painted while they waited — landscapes, abstract shapes, whatever came to mind. Their laughter echoed through the backyard, mixing with the rustle of leaves.
Halfway through, Sadie asked casually, "So, are you coming to the retreat this year?"
Celine paused mid-brushstroke. "I don't know…" she said slowly. "I haven't gone since Dean was studying abroad. It's mostly couples now, and…"
"And?" Sadie prompted, eyebrow raised.
"Well," Celine sighed, "I heard Dean and his fiancée might be going. I don't want to make things awkward. I'd rather skip the drama."
Sadie rolled her eyes dramatically. "Exactly why you should go! Don't let them have that space uncontested. Plus, you have Nathan now. That alone should shut everyone up."
"Sadie…" Celine said, half-scolding. "Nathan's done so much already. I don't want to drag him into more of my mess."
Sadie grinned mischievously. "Then let me ask him for you. If he says yes, it's fate!"
Celine shook her head, smiling helplessly. "Fine. But only if he agrees."
"Deal."
⸻
Later that afternoon, Nathan arrived to pick Celine up. The sun had dipped low, painting the porch in golden light. He knocked, and Sadie swung the door open like she'd been waiting.
"Nathan! Perfect timing!" she said brightly. "Come in, come in. We made cake!"
Nathan smiled politely. "I don't want to intrude—"
"Nonsense. You're eating our cake."
Celine appeared from the kitchen, cheeks flushed and hair pinned up loosely. "Hi," she greeted, smiling softly. "She's not giving you a choice, I'm afraid."
He chuckled, stepping in. "I've learned not to argue with her."
They gathered in the kitchen, Sadie slicing generous pieces of their carrot cake. The scent of cinnamon and cream cheese frosting filled the room. Nathan took a bite — it was… decent. Sweet but a little dry.
"Well?" Celine asked anxiously, watching his face.
He nodded. "It's good."
Sadie burst out laughing. "Liar! You're only saying that because Celine made it!"
"No," Nathan said with an amused grin, "I mean it. It's good."
Celine giggled, relieved but suspicious. "You don't have to pretend."
"I'm not pretending," he replied lightly, taking another forkful. "Maybe next time, add a bit more butter. But still — pretty good."
Sadie clapped her hands. "See? That's a gentleman. Honest and polite."
The conversation flowed easily after that — until Sadie, unable to wait any longer, casually dropped, "So… are you guys coming to the retreat?"
Celine's eyes widened. "Sadie!"
"What retreat?" Nathan asked, glancing at Celine.
"It's nothing," Celine said quickly. "Just a small trip with friends. It's for couples mostly, and—"
"Dean will be there," Sadie added pointedly, sipping her tea.
Nathan looked at Celine, his expression unreadable but his gaze intent. There was a silent conversation between them — one only they could hear.
"We'll be there," Nathan said simply, eyes still on Celine.
Sadie beamed in triumph. "Perfect! I'll send the details."
Celine shot her a half-annoyed, half-grateful look, while Nathan just chuckled quietly.
⸻
On the drive home, the city lights glimmered through the windshield. Celine held the small box of leftover cake on her lap, her thoughts circling back to what had just happened.
Nathan glanced at her briefly. "You really didn't want to go, did you?"
Celine sighed. "It's not that. I just don't want drama. I'm tired of it."
He nodded. "I get that. But don't let someone else's presence dictate your joy, Celine. You've worked so hard to rebuild your life — don't start shrinking again because of him."
She turned to look at him, his profile illuminated by passing streetlights — steady, calm, certain. His words settled deep.
"You're right," she said softly. Then she smiled, sliding her hand over his. "We'll go."
Nathan looked down at their joined hands, then back to the road, smiling faintly.
"Good," he said. "Because I wasn't planning to let you skip it anyway."
Celine laughed quietly, leaning her head back against the seat, her heart light and full.
Outside, the city blurred past — bright, alive, moving forward.
Just like her.