Mirabelle's eyes shimmered with unshed tears. "Thank you, Miss Selwyn. You've saved me again."
Celestine smiled gently. "Like I said before—it was no trouble at all. Honestly, if you wear my redesigned gown on the red carpet, I'm the one who's lucky."
The evening gown for the gala—a flowing crimson dress with intricate embroidery, originally commissioned in a rush—was finally finished and ready.
By the time they wrapped up at Mirabelle's studio, it was already ten o'clock at night.
"Celly, it's so late. Why don't we grab a bite together?" Mirabelle linked arms with her, the gesture warm and affectionate.
After the dress debacle, Mirabelle's admiration for her had become absolute.
But as the invitation hung in the air, something flashed through Celestine's mind.
Suddenly, an image of Gideon's somber gray eyes came to her. Oh no.
She'd promised to cook him dinner tonight. But with all the chaos around Mirabelle's dress, it had completely slipped her mind.
Celestine winced, remembering how forlorn Gideon had seemed yesterday. Guilt gnawed at her—how could she have forgotten? At the very least, she should have called him.
What if he still hadn't eaten?
Hastily, she made her excuses and left Mirabelle, then dialed Gideon's number with a nervous flutter in her chest.
It rang for ages.
She checked the time and groaned inwardly. It was so late—Mr. Shield was probably already asleep.
Just as the call was about to disconnect, he finally picked up.
"Speak."
His voice was low and rough, thick with sleep or maybe a cold. It was impossible to tell if he was angry or just tired.
Celestine felt like a child caught doing something wrong, fumbling for words that all sounded like weak excuses.
After a long pause, she finally managed, "Did you eat yet?"
On the other end, she could almost hear his wry smile. "Miss Selwyn, do you even know what time it is?"
Celestine's heart clenched. "I'm sorry. Work ran late and I forgot to let you know. It was careless of me."
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