chapter 142
Elena's POV:
The moment the door closed behind them, Luna dropped back onto the sofa with a satisfied sigh that made me raise an eyebrow.
"Finally! I thought they'd never leave." She tucked her legs under her, looking remarkably pleased with herself. "Men are so predictable sometimes."
I stared at her, understanding dawning. "You planned that."
"Of course I did." She grinned, unrepentant. "Michael's been wound tighter than a spring for weeks, and your husband looked ready to snap someone's neck when he walked in. Better they take it out on each other with rules and gloves than... well."
She waved a hand dismissively. "Besides, I wanted to talk to you properly. Without two territorial men creating tension in the room."
I laughed softly. "Their presence is rather hard to ignore, isn't it? You're right—we definitely wouldn't be this relaxed if they were still here."
"Exactly! Now we can have a proper conversation." Luna settled back into the cushions. "So, have you found out what you're having?"
"We decided not to find out," I admitted, running a hand over my belly. "I wanted to keep some mystery. Though it does mean I've been preparing clothes for both possibilities."
A thought struck me. "Would you like to see? I've been working on some designs..."
Luna's eyes lit up. "I'd love to!"
"Come on then." I pushed myself up carefully, one hand supporting my back. "Fair warning—I may have gone a bit overboard with the sewing machine."
I led Luna down the hallway to what would soon be the nursery.
The room was still being decorated, but I'd already set up one corner as my design space, with fabrics, sketches, and finished pieces carefully arranged.
"Oh my goodness," Luna breathed, immediately drawn to the tiny garments hanging on miniature hangers. "Elena, these are exquisite!"
I felt heat creep up my neck. "I have experience designing perfume bottles, so I understand form and aesthetics, but clothing is completely amateur territory for me. I actually consulted with a pediatric clothing specialist to make sure everything would be safe and comfortable."
Luna held up a soft cream onesie with delicate embroidered vines along the collar. "This stitching is perfect. And the fabric—is this bamboo?"
"Bamboo blend, yes. It's naturally antibacterial and incredibly soft." I ran my fingers over another piece. "I wanted everything to be gentle enough for the most sensitive skin."
"You know what would be adorable?" Luna's eyes sparkled with mischief. "A baby crawling fashion show! Imagine all these little ones in designer outfits, just crawling down a runway!"
I laughed at the mental image. "That would certainly be memorable. Though I imagine the 'models' wouldn't be very cooperative."
"Oh, the chaos would be half the fun!" Luna carefully folded the onesie. "Speaking of which, have you thought about how involved Sebastian will be with the actual baby care? Sometimes these powerful men think diaper duty is beneath them."
"Actually," I said, surprising myself with a smile, "he's been reading parenting books. I caught him practicing diaper changes on a doll last week. He was mortified when I found him."
Luna clapped her hands together. "That's wonderful! It's so important to establish that partnership early. "
We chatted for a while longer, comparing notes on everything from nursery colors to sleeping schedules. Eventually, we made our way back to the living room, both of us settling into the comfortable sofas.
"You know what I'm really craving right now?" Luna said suddenly. "Milk tea. "
I perked up at the thought. "Actually, Sebastian has some incredible tea in his collection. We could make our own."
"Really? That sounds perfect!"
"Let me go find it." I headed toward Sebastian's study, remembering the cabinet where he kept his rarer teas.
After a few minutes of searching, I finally spotted what I was looking for—a distinctive red tin that I knew contained his prized first-flush Darjeeling. I reached up, standing on my tiptoes to grasp it, when suddenly a hot, solid presence pressed against my back.
"What do you think you're doing?" Sebastian's voice was low in my ear, amused rather than truly annoyed. He was still damp with sweat from his workout, his body radiating heat through his thin shirt.
I clutched the tin to my chest. "Luna and I want to make milk tea."
"With my '47 Darjeeling?" He reached around me, not quite taking the tin but caging me against the cabinet. "Do you know how much that costs per ounce?"
"No," I admitted, turning in his arms to face him. "But it'll make really good milk tea?"
He stared at me for a long moment, then sighed, stepping back. "Fine. Go play with it."
"Thank you." I rose up on my toes to kiss his cheek, tasting salt. "You should shower. You're all sweaty."
"In a minute." He was already heading back toward the training room.
As I returned to the kitchen with my prize, I set out the ingredients with more enthusiasm than skill. "I should warn you," I told Luna, measuring tea leaves with uncertain hands, "I'm terrible at this. My culinary skills basically stop at boiling water."
"Let me try," Luna offered, gently taking over.
She moved with surprising confidence, heating milk to the perfect temperature, steeping the precious Darjeeling with practiced ease. "My grandmother taught me when I was young. She was very particular about her tea."
Within minutes, the kitchen filled with the comforting aroma of properly brewed milk tea. I watched, impressed, as Luna strained the amber liquid and added just the right amount of sweetener.
"You're a natural!" I exclaimed, taking my first sip. It was perfect—creamy, fragrant, with the distinctive muscatel notes of the Darjeeling singing through.
"Years of practice during exam seasons," Luna said modestly, but she looked pleased.
The sound of male voices announced the men's return. Sebastian appeared first, hair damp with sweat, Michael close behind. Both had that loose-limbed satisfaction that came from a good fight.
"Is that my Darjeeling?" Sebastian asked, but he was already moving toward me, drawn by some invisible magnetism.
"Luna made it," I said, offering him my cup. "Try some."
Instead of taking the cup, he bent his head to sip directly from where my lips had been, maintaining eye contact the entire time. The gesture was so casually intimate it made heat creep up my neck.
"Not bad," he murmured, but his attention was entirely on me, not the tea.
Michael cleared his throat. "We should go." He checked his phone and frowned. "Actually, we really should go. Luna, did you know your mother is at our apartment?"
Luna's entire demeanor changed. "What? Why didn't anyone call me?" She quickly set down her teacup, already reaching for her purse. "I'm so sorry, Elena. I have to go deal with this."
"Of course, don't worry about it," I assured her.
"I'll come see you again soon, I promise." Luna gave me a quick but warm hug. "We'll finish our tea properly next time."