They each had their own brand of social finesse.

Abigail didn’t press the topic any further.

When they arrived at Sebastian’s house, she hadn’t even stepped through the door before spotting him in the kitchen with dinner prep.

The house was designed with floor-to-ceiling glass walls on nearly every side of the ground floor, leaving what was happening inside open to the imagination.

The moment Sebastian caught sight of her, he set down the knife he was holding and came to meet her at the door.

A chorus of cats trailed behind him, meowing incessantly like a furry little fan club.

The whole scene struck Abigail as absurdly delightful.

“How’s Mr. Cex doing?” she asked, slipping off her shoes and hanging her bag by the door.

Sebastian caught the question and, in an instant, his features softened into a smile. “He’s well. Said he’s all for us, so no need to worry about any disapproving voices.”

Still changing into her house slippers, Abigail looked up. “Who’s disapproving? Your father?”

“Technically, he’s my father, yes,” Sebastian replied with a faint smirk as he stepped toward her. Then, tilting his head, he asked playfully, “Can I get a—”

James, who had just changed into his slippers, made a loud gagging sound. “Do you guys really have to do this in front of me?”

“If you’re jealous, go get your own girlfriend,” Sebastian retorted, giving him a light shove, perhaps hoping to spare Abigail from embarrassment.

But before he could fully turn back around, Abigail leaned in and kissed him on the cheek.

It was soft and warm, a little lingering.

Whatever careless charm Sebastian usually carried vanished in an instant. He turned to her, searching her expression.

She tilted her head slightly, the corners of her mouth lifting in a subtle, teasing smile. “That do the trick?”

He knew perfectly well the kiss might have been more about protocol, a gesture of commitment, nothing more.

But still, he felt unreasonably satisfied.

“More than,” he said, lowering his gaze slightly. “Though if I’m being honest, I meant I wanted to kiss you.”

For all his usual bravado and flair, the truth was Sebastian had never been in a real relationship. His heart was thudding wildly just from saying it aloud.

Abigail brushed past him, heading toward the kitchen. “Well, saying it kind of ruins the moment, don’t you think?”

Sebastian had to admit she wasn’t wrong.

Warren and James, who had caught most of the exchange, looked at each other. The way the two of them were acting felt more like a pair of teenagers tumbling their way through first love, not grown adults—sweet, clumsy, and completely endearing.

“Want a hand?” Abigail asked, rolling up her sleeves as she walked over to the kitchen island.

“Why don’t you guys go kiss again and then think about cooking?” James teased with a grin.

‘Chapter 268’

Without missing a beat, Sebastian grabbed a head of garlic off the counter and tossed it at him. “If you’ve got time to talk nonsense, you’ve got time to peel. I need that.”

James caught it effortlessly, still grinning. “My mouth may be running, but my hands aren’t idle.”

“Abby, got anything to keep his mouth busy too?” Warren called from the sink, where he was rinsing seafood.

Leaning on the island, Abigail answered evenly, “Find him a girlfriend. Let him cook and kiss at the same time. His mouth won’t get a second of peace.”

James doubled over laughing. “Abby, you are killing me. I’m gonna have to test that theory.”

Sebastian glanced at her and, seeing her laugh along with them, couldn’t help but smile himself.

Warren squinted with amusement. “You’ve got to admire Abby, completely deadpan, and then she drops a line like that.”

“I was being serious,” Abigail replied, keeping her face entirely composed.

That only made James laugh harder, nearly shaking with it as he peeled the garlic.

Abigail burst out laughing too. “Hurry up and peel; watching you laugh like that is contagious.”

“James looks like such an idiot when he laughs,” Sebastian said, his voice warm with affection.

“Seafood again tonight?” Abigail asked, her eyes scanning the spread on the counter.

“Yup.”

“Not a fan?” Sebastian replied.

“I love it. Just asking,” she said, taking a seat. “I just don’t know how to cook it.”

“Good thing you don’t need to. All you have to do is eat,” he said, grinning.

Abigail propped her chin on her hand and looked at him. “Then I guess I’ll just start coming here after work. You cook, I eat.”

“Deal. Want me to draft you a weekly menu?” Sebastian asked, looking absurdly handsome in his apron.

The image popped into her mind all too easily: tall, broad-shouldered, cooking like a pro in a sleek modern kitchen. The kind of fantasy that would rack up a million likes if you posted it online.

The mental image amused her so much that she nearly laughed again.

To cover it up, she straightened up and said with mock seriousness, “No need. I’m not picky. Whatever you make, I eat.”

Sebastian caught the glimmer of mischief behind her composed expression. He turned to Warren. “Did you catch her little smile just now?”

“Did,” Warren said, his tone laced with implication. “Looks like Abby’s learning all our bad habits.”

“She wears them well, though,” Sebastian said, watching her like she was the most fascinating thing in the room. Even her mischief, to him, was endearing.