Obsession His Runaway Bride (Noelle and Adrian) novel Chapter 135

Chapter 135: Toast

Chapter 135: Toast

Keegan stirred awake to the soft golden hush of morning light filtering through the

curtains.

For a fleeting moment, the world felt utterly perfect…warm, quiet, and still. A small, contented smile tugged at his lips as he reached out with closed eyes, his hand instinctively seeking the familiar warmth on the other side of the bed.

His fingertips met warm rumpled sheets which made him release a sigh of relief thinking Grace was still there.

Of course she had stayed.

But as he opened his eyes slowly, blinking against the pale morning light–he instantly froze.

The space beside him was empty.

Her pillow, slightly indented, sat cold now. The blanket had been folded back neatly and so was her robe. Her scent lingered faintly in the air like jasmine and whatever mischief she always seemed to carry, but she was gone.

His smile dropped.

Keegan immediately bolted up feeling his chest tightening. His eyes darted around the room like maybe, just maybe—she’d be curled up somewhere, reading a book by the fire or getting dressed in the bathroom.

But the fireplace was off. The bathroom door was open.

“Grace?” he called, voice still hoarse with sleep. No answer.

He stood, abruptly, not bothering with a shirt, and yanked on the nearest pair of pants–inside out, naturally, but he didn’t care. He absentmindedly grabbed her robe and shoved his arms through it halfway as he stumbled barefoot out the door, heart already picking up pace.

“Grace!” he called again, louder this time, down the hallway.

No response. Just the distant ticking of the grandfather clock.

His mind spun.

Had he come on too strong? Did last night scare her off? Did she regret it?

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Chapter 135: Toast

Had she left without saying goodbye?

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The panic began clawing higher in his chest. He reached the stairs, tripping slightly as he rushed down, his robe flapping behind him and his pants hanging off one hip like he’d dressed in the dark.

And then-

Laughter.

He froze mid–step.

The sound was soft, melodic, and familiar.

He crept down the final steps and turned the corner-

And there she was.

His Grace… sitting in the kitchen with her legs tucked beneath her on a stool, wearing nothing but his shirt, which was way too big and hung off one shoulder in a way that was absolutely criminal. She was holding a piece of toast in one hand, gesturing animatedly with the other as she chatted with Rosa and two of the other maids.

Her hair was an untamed halo of waves, her cheeks pink from laughing, and her eyes -when they caught his–sparkled like she’d just told the best joke of her life.

“Good morning,” she said cheerfully, as if his soul hadn’t just left his body. “You sleep okay?”

Keegan stared at her, shell–shocked. “You’re here.”

She blinked. “…I live here.”

“I thought you left.”

“I went downstairs.”

“Without telling me?” His voice cracked halfway between a whisper and an accusation. “Grace, I woke up and you were gone and the bed was cold and I—I aged twenty years.”

One of the maids giggled behind her hand as the other gestured to each other and left the kitchen. Grace raised a brow and slid off the stool, still holding her toast like a weapon of peace.

“You aged because I made tea?”

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“You vanished!” he argued, stepping toward her now like a man returning from war. “I thought I dreamt you. I thought last night was in my head and you’d disappeared back into the mist like some satin–clad fever hallucination.”

“I left a trail of breadcrumbs to the kitchen, she joked, holding up her half–eaten toast in proof.

He pressed a hand to his chest like she’d stabbed him. “You abandoned me for carbs.

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“You abandoned your pants for panic.”

They stared at each other.

Then Grace burst into laughter, wrapping an arm around his neck and tugging him in by the robe.

“You’re ridiculous,” she whispered into his chest.

“You terrified me,” he murmured into her hair. “I’ve only just started getting used to the idea that you’re mine, and then I woke up without you and-” He shook his head. “…I guess I didn’t like it.”

Grace looked up, expression softening. “Well… I’m here.”

He kissed her then slow, grateful, like a man who’d lost the world and found it again in a sunlit kitchen.

“Good,” he whispered. “Because if you ran, I would’ve followed you barefoot with inside–out pants.”

“And toast,” she added, popping a small piece of toast into his mouth.

He chewed thoughtfully. “…This was worth the heart attack.”

Grace turned back toward the counter to refill her tea, but she didn’t get far as Keegan followed her like a lost duckling, with open fitting robe and still shirtless, still wearing pants that were trying to make run for it down one hip.

She raised an eyebrow. “Are you just… going to follow me around now?”

“Yes,” he said simply, wrapping his arms around her waist from behind and resting his chin on her shoulder. “You disappeared once. I’m not taking any more chances.”

“You’re literally holding me hostage in the kitchen.”

“I call it a safety hug.”

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Grace snorted. “Keegan, I can’t pour tea like this.”

“You don’t need tea,” he said, nuzzling into her neck like he was part golden retriever. “You need affection. Also possibly pants. But mostly affection.”

“You need caffeine.”

“I need you.”

Her cheeks turned pink again, but she elbowed him lightly. “You’re being ridiculous.

“And yet here I am,” he said dramatically, lifting his head. “Unwashed. Disoriented. Devastated. Reborn.”

She turned around in his arms and gave him a look. “Reborn?”

“I thought I’d been abandoned. The robe was folded neatly, Grace. The robe.”

“You’re not okay,” she laughed, gently tugging her robe he accidentally wore— tighter across his chest. “You’ve fully lost it.”

“I lost it the second you walked into my room last night in that robe,” he mumbled.

“You mean the one you’re wearing now?”

He looked down. “Right. I’m merely borrowing it until I can emotionally recover.”

She leaned in and kissed his cheek. “You’re the clingiest man I’ve ever met.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“It wasn’t.”

He just smiled and kissed her again—just below her jaw this time, slow and sleepy.” Can we go back to bed?”

“Keegan, it’s almost noon.”

“Exactly, Prime napping hour.”

“You slept in.”

“Emotionally, I was awake all night worrying about my imaginary abandonment.”

She laughed again, trying to wriggle away but he tightened his grip and picked her up, bridal–style, as if that settled the matter

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Chapter 135: Toast

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“Keegan-!”

“Shh. You’ve already done enough emotional damage. Let me heal. Horizontally. In bed. With you.” He demanded.

Grace buried her face in his chest to muffle her laughter, while Keegan began carrying her back toward the stairs with absolutely no plan for how he’d climb them barefoot, shirtless, and carrying a woman with a piece of toast still in her hand.

He didn’t care.

She was here.

And he wasn’t letting go anytime soon.