Reborn As Mr. Coldwell's Wife
Chapter 147: New Morning

Chapter 147: New Morning

The kitchen was filled with the smell of sizzling bacon and fresh eggs as Ellen stood by the stove, humming softly to herself. A small giggle escaped her lips, and she quickly bit down on her fingers, holding the spatula in her other hand. She couldn’t help it—last night had been a huge development, and the memory of Mason’s drunken confession still played over and over in her mind like a sweet song she didn’t want to end.

She flipped the eggs with a satisfied smile, Everything felt different now. Brighter. More hopeful. Even if Mason had been drunk when he said those things, it didn’t matter. What mattered was that she had heard him, and he had let her in, if only for a moment.

With a happy sigh, Ellen grabbed the plates and walked over to the dining table, carefully setting them down. As she straightened up, she heard the soft shuffle of footsteps behind her.

She turned just in time to see Mason walk into the kitchen, already dressed sharply in his work outfit. He looked as if last night hadn’t happened at all, as if he hadn’t poured out his heart in a drunken confession that had changed everything for her.

"Mason!" Ellen greeted him excitedly, her eyes lighting up as she smiled wide. "Good morning! Breakfast is ready."

Mason glanced at her before he offered her a short nod. "Morning." His voice was cool and casual, as if it were just another day. He pulled out a chair and sat down, adjusting his cuffs as he did.

Ellen followed suit after quickly taking off her apron, folding it neatly on the counter before joining him at the table. She sat across from him, felt a warm buzz in her heart from their conversation the night before. As they started to eat, she couldn’t help but smile, glancing at Mason occasionally, her heart warm with every look she stole.

Mason, however, seemed to notice. He put his fork down and glanced at her with a raised brow, clearly a little unsettled. "I have to say, Ellen..." he began. "I’m not a fan of this new hobby of yours."

Ellen blinked, tilting her head in confusion. "What hobby?"

Mason leaned back in his chair slightly, crossing his arms over his chest as he looked at her. "This creepy smiling at me during breakfast thing you’re doing. It’s making it hard to eat in peace."

Ellen gasped softly, her eyes widening in playful shock. "What? I’m not smiling creepily!" she protested, though the smile on her face only grew wider.

Mason gave her a deadpan look, pointing his fork at her. "Oh, you are. It’s unsettling."

Ellen let out a laugh, shaking her head as she put her fork down. "You’re exaggerating! I’m just... I’m happy," she said, her voice softening as the words slipped out. She glanced down at her plate for a moment, the smile on her face turning a little shy. "That’s all."

"What made you so happy?" Mason asked, tilting his head slightly, his voice calm but curious as he sipped his coffee.

Ellen hesitated for just a beat, then said softly, "Last night..."

Mason frowned slightly, placing his cup down and leaning back in his chair. "What happened last night?"

Ellen looked at him in shock, her eyebrows raised in disbelief. "Are you serious?" she asked. She studied his face, searching for any sign of teasing, but found none. "You don’t remember?"

"Remember what?"

Ellen’s heart sank slightly. He didn’t remember? Well, it wasn’t entirely impossible. After all, he had been drunk. Her excitement from earlier began to fade, disappointment creeping in.

She glanced at him again, this time taking in his calm demeanor, his plate already wiped clean as if the conversation was nothing significant to him.

What a shame, she thought to herself. If Mason really didn’t remember, then everything they talked about last night—his confessions, his worries about their marriage—might have just been the fleeting words of a drunken man. She suddenly didn’t feel as hungry anymore. The excitement she’d felt earlier, thinking they’d made a breakthrough, had all but evaporated.

Ellen stood from the table, gathering their plates. As she walked to the sink, her mind was spinning. Should she bring it up again? Maybe get Mason drunk again, let him spill his heart, and this time—this time she could record it. Wait, isn’t that a little psychotic? she mused, her lips twitching in amusement despite her disappointment.

Anyway, where did we store the alcohol?

She turned around and started to open one of the cupboards, her fingers brushing against the door. Just as she was about to pull it open, another hand reached over and swiftly closed it. Ellen’s breath caught as she turned, her eyes meeting Mason’s.

He stood close, his hand still on the cupboard door, his gaze fixed on hers, and it was more intense than she anticipated. Slowly, he slid his hand into his pocket, then took a step forward. Ellen instinctively backed up, her waist pressing against the kitchen counter as he cornered her, the space between them vanishing in seconds.

Mason’s voice was low and firm as he spoke. "I’m going to say this once, Ellen," he said, his eyes not leaving hers. "You’d better remember it."

Ellen blinked, her breath hitching slightly. She pressed her hands against the edge of the counter behind her, trying to steady herself as Mason’s presence enveloped her.

"I remember everything from last night," he continued. "I just don’t want to talk about it anymore."

Before Ellen could respond, before she could even process what he’d said, Mason’s expression softened ever so slightly. A playful glint danced in his eyes as he leaned even closer, their lips just a breath away.

"Now," he murmured, "let me get my good luck at work kiss."

The words sent a spark through Ellen, and before she could react, Mason closed the gap between them, capturing her lips in a deep, passionate kiss.

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