Chapter 251: Chapter 251: Adrian Lancaster Is Overwhelmed by Favor
Before long, Adrian Lancaster returned to the bedroom.
In his hand, he held a simple white porcelain cup. Steam from the warm milk curled up from the rim, forming a small, soft cloud of mist in the dim yellow light of the night lamp.
He had carefully tested the temperature to ensure the milk was warm but not scalding—just right to chase away the deep-night chill.
"Drink some while it’s warm." He walked over to Wren Sutton and gently pushed the cup toward her.
Wren Sutton didn’t refuse. She lifted her hand slightly and took the cup.
The warm porcelain was a perfect comfort against her cool fingertips. The warmth spread up through the bones of her fingers, instantly enveloping her entire hand.
She lowered her head and took small sips.
The rich, mellow aroma of milk melted between her lips. The warm, smooth liquid slid slowly down her throat, soothing its way into her stomach, and even her taut nerves seemed to relax a little.
Adrian Lancaster didn’t sit down. He stood by the sofa, his gaze lowered, quietly watching Wren Sutton.
The lamplight cast his tall figure onto the wall, stretching it long.
The faint bluish shadows under his eyes were especially clear in the light, a mark left by a solid week of caring for the children day and night.
This past week, he had handled almost everything—from responding instantly to the children’s cries in the middle of the night to the endless, trivial tasks of the day: feeding, changing diapers, lulling them to sleep, playing with them, and engaging in bonding activities.
He was very patient and seemed to enjoy it, never complaining of being tired, but the energy he expended was real.
Wren Sutton drank most of the milk and gently placed the cup back on the coffee table.
"Not drinking the rest?" Adrian Lancaster asked, his gaze following the cup’s movement.
Wren Sutton shook her head. "Mm, I don’t want any more."
Adrian Lancaster didn’t press her, simply replying, "Okay."
Wren Sutton looked up at him.
The warm yellow light flowed over the sharp angles of his side profile, casting a faint shadow on one side of his high-bridged nose and making the outline of his eyelashes exceptionally clear.
She could see the traces of exhaustion plainly.
An impulse, a mixture of heartache and a sense of responsibility, surged within her.
"You sleep in the bedroom tonight. I’ll stay here," she said, her tone calm but firm.
Hearing this, Adrian Lancaster’s brow furrowed immediately. He shook his head and refused almost without thinking.
"No."
"Why not?" Wren Sutton didn’t understand, her voice firm. "The children aren’t yours alone. As their mother, I have a responsibility and a duty to care for them."
"I understand what you mean," Adrian Lancaster’s voice deepened, filled with an unyielding resolve.
"But I won’t let you stay up all night."
Wren said, "The children are sleeping so well. I won’t have to do anything. I just need to be here with them."
"You can’t." Adrian Lancaster’s refusal was just as crisp, leaving no room for negotiation.
As if he had made up his mind, he reached out, took Wren Sutton’s arm, and gently pulled her up from the sofa. With a gentle yet irresistible force, he led her toward the bedroom.
"Go back to the bedroom and sleep."
"..." Wren Sutton was speechless.
She knew Adrian Lancaster’s temperament well. Once he set his mind on something, it was nearly impossible to change it.
Seeing the stubborn look in his eyes, she sighed internally and chose to compromise.
"Fine. I’ll go back to the master bedroom. You stay here."
After speaking, Wren Sutton’s gaze swept over the sofa.
"Have someone move the bed from the guest room in here tomorrow. You can’t keep sleeping on the sofa. It’ll take a toll on your body after a while."
The moment the words left her mouth, the air seemed to freeze, as if squeezed tight by an invisible hand.
It was an ordinary sentence. It couldn’t even be considered particularly intimate or caring—more like a reasonable suggestion based on facts.
It wasn’t passionate or lingering, but it was like a stone tossed with perfect aim into a dead-still pool, landing right in the center of the long-silent lake of Adrian Lancaster’s heart.
An immense wave of emotion crashed over him, a mixture of stunned disbelief and a bittersweet, surging gratitude. It was as if a subterranean river, suppressed for years, had finally burst through the surface, churning violently in Adrian Lancaster’s chest.
All the emotions buried deep in his heart that he could never speak of; all the pain he’d endured, stung by her distant gaze; all those moments in his midnight dreams when he yearned to be close but forced himself to hold back...
All the sand and stone that had built the dam of his reason crumbled before this one, seemingly simple sentence of concern, finding the breach through which to burst.
Adrian Lancaster didn’t even have time to analyze the meaning behind her words.
Was it responsibility? Guilt? Or something else?
His mind went blank under the onslaught of the emotional flood, leaving only instinct in control.
Before Wren Sutton could leave, Adrian Lancaster took a step forward, his movements so quick they were almost clumsy.
His strong, powerful arms wrapped around her, pulling her firmly into his embrace with a force that was almost reckless and utterly undeniable.
Wren Sutton froze, her body instinctively stiffening at the sudden confinement.
Adrian Lancaster buried his face deep in the crook of her neck, as if it were the only harbor where he could both hide from this overwhelming emotion and draw comfort.
His warm breath, damp and unrestrained, washed over the exceptionally sensitive skin of her neck, sending a fine, continuous shiver silently down her spine.
He held her tightly, his arms like iron bands around Wren Sutton’s somewhat slender shoulders and back. The strength was astonishing, as if he wanted to embed her fragile body into his own solid chest, to merge with her, bone and blood, and never be separated again.
Yet, mixed with this almost out-of-control force was a thread of extreme, heart-aching caution. It was as if he were holding a priceless treasure, his fingertips trembling, afraid that a fraction more force would shatter her, and that a fraction less would mean losing her again.
Wren Sutton could clearly feel Adrian Lancaster’s heart pounding violently in his chest.
She smelled his familiar, clean, crisp scent, now mixed with the faint smell of milk from the days spent caring for the children.
She heard his heavy, slightly ragged breaths right by her ear. Each inhalation carried the hint of a sob, and each exhalation brushed hotly against her earlobe, making the base of her ear burn.
Time seemed to freeze in that moment.
Only the nightstand lamp continued to emit its warm, yellow glow, silently blanketing this small corner of the world.
From the crib not far away came a couple of muffled sleep-murmurs. A little mouth smacked its lips, then returned to a long, even breathing.
On the wall, their shadows, locked in a tight embrace and almost indistinguishable from one another, swayed slightly with their silent entanglement.
Wren Sutton’s initial stiffness slowly melted away in the silent, turbulent embrace.
Her hand lifted slightly, hovering in mid-air. Her fingertips curled, but in the end, her hand just stayed by Adrian Lancaster’s side, uncertain of where to land.
After a long time—so long that Wren Sutton could almost count her own frantic heartbeats—Adrian Lancaster took a deep, shuddering breath.
The breath was scorching hot and damp, sinking completely into the crook of her neck.
He still didn’t lift his head. His muffled voice came from the space by her shoulder and neck, as if it had been suppressed for so long that it was finally seeping out through a crack.
It was thick with an unconcealable nasal tone, and there was even the faintest trace of a broken sob.
"Okay. I’ll have someone move the bed tomorrow."
He paused, as if gathering his strength, or perhaps just greedy for this moment of warmth and closeness. His arms tightened again, pulling Wren Sutton even more snugly into his embrace.
Wren Sutton slowly, very slowly, lifted her hovering hand again.
Her fingertips trembled as they moved toward Adrian Lancaster’s back, hesitating, struggling.
The warm yellow light enveloped them, melting their shadows together.
In the end, her hand fell, not returning Adrian Lancaster’s embrace, and rested quietly at her side.
