Dear Ex-Wife Please Be Mine Again (Christina and Alex) novel Chapter 67

Christiana's POV.

My heart sank as I realized the situation we were in. I was practically sprawled over Alex, and the door was wide open. There stood Ethan and Emma, eyes wide and full of curiosity.

"Mommy?" Ethan's small voice broke the silence first. "Why are you lying on top of Daddy?"

I quickly scrambled off Alex, feeling my face flush a deep red. I couldn’t even find the words. Meanwhile, Alex sat up, trying and failing to stifle a laugh. His eyes sparkled with amusement. Of course, he was enjoying this.

"I...I just slipped," I stammered, my voice sounding shaky. "It’s nothing. I just tripped."

Emma, my bright and ever-inquisitive daughter, tilted her head and raised an eyebrow in the most serious way a five-year-old could. "But why are you both on the floor? Did you fall together?"

Alex cleared his throat, but I could see he was still trying not to laugh. "Your mom isn’t feeling well, and I was just making sure she didn’t fall. But... I guess we fell together." He grinned at me, and I shot him a glare, willing him to stop making this worse.

The kids, however, weren’t satisfied. Ethan looked up at Alex with his big eyes, full of mischief. "So, are you moving back in, Daddy? You’re in Mommy’s room."

I nearly choked. "No! No, your dad is not—" I began, but Emma cut me off, hands on her hips like she was about to give us a lecture.

"Mommy, you’re wearing your underwear. Daddy’s in shorts. Did you play dress-up last night?"

I wanted to melt into the floor. How in the world did they come up with these things? Alex, of course, was loving every minute of this, and I could tell from the grin plastered on his face.

"Emma, sweetheart," Alex finally said, his voice smooth as ever, "nothing like that happened. Mommy just wasn’t feeling great, and I stayed to help her. That's it."

The kids weren’t buying it. Ethan leaned in, whispering loudly, "But Mommy never lets anyone help her. Are you sure something didn’t happen?"

I shot a panicked look at Alex, hoping he would somehow wrap this up. But no, he was too busy enjoying the mess.

"Ethan," I said, trying to regain control of the situation, "sometimes even Mommy needs help, okay? Daddy just helped me get home, and that’s it. Nothing more."

Emma tapped her chin thoughtfully, like she was some sort of detective. "Then why does it smell like vomit in here?"

I groaned. Could this get any worse? "Because I was sick, okay?" I admitted, my voice defeated. "I drank too much, and Daddy helped clean up. That’s why he’s here. That’s all."

Both of the kids looked at each other, then back at me, like they still didn’t quite believe it. "Hmm..." Ethan mused. "Okay, Mommy. But it’s still kinda weird."

I let out a sigh of relief, finally untangling myself from Alex completely. "Yes, it is weird, okay? But now it’s time to go. You two go with Nanny and get ready for breakfast, okay?"

The nanny, who had been watching this whole ordeal in silence, finally stepped forward, trying to hold back a smile. "Come on, kids, let’s give your parents some space."

As she ushered them away, I felt the tension drain from my body. But before they left, Emma turned around, one last cheeky grin on her face.

"Next time, maybe don’t play dress-up if you don’t want us to find out!"

The door clicked shut, and I buried my face in my hands, groaning.

"I’m going to die of embarrassment," I muttered.

Alex chuckled, standing up and dusting himself off. "They’re smart, I’ll give them that. But hey, at least they think we’re playing dress-up and not something else."

I shot him another glare, but I was too exhausted to argue. This was an absolute disaster.

"Alex," I sighed, "you really need to go."

"Right after you drink that hangover soup," he said, walking over to the tray and picking it up. "Then I’ll think about it."

I was too hungover and too embarrassed to argue. Instead, I grabbed the spoon and started sipping the soup, my face still burning with humiliation.

This was not how I imagined my morning. At all.

I glanced at Alex, who was now leaning against the edge of the bed, scrolling through his phone like he had all the time in the world. His powerful presence made the room feel smaller, and I couldn’t ignore the fact that he was still shirtless. I needed to focus on something, anything, but the way his muscles flexed with each movement.

I dialed the number for the hotel’s concierge, attempting to sound normal, but my voice shook a little. "Yes, please make sure Mr. Alistair’s clothes are dry cleaned immediately. And, if possible, can we have them in under an hour?"

The person on the other end agreed without hesitation, and I hung up. I turned back to Alex, trying not to look frazzled. "Your clothes should be ready soon. You’ll be out of here in no time."

Alex smirked, crossing his arms over his chest. "In a hurry to get rid of me?"

I shot him a look. "Aren’t you supposed to be running your empire or something?"

His smirk deepened, and he shrugged. "I have people for that. I’m right where I need to be."

God, he was insufferable. "Alex, seriously, you can’t just hang around here. I have things to do, and you... well, you’re in my room."

He raised an eyebrow. "I’m waiting for my clothes, aren’t I?"

I rolled my eyes and turned away, trying to regain control of the situation. He was always like this—acting like the world revolved around him, like he could just waltz in and take over everything.

The kids, who had been unusually quiet, suddenly popped back into the conversation. Ethan stood on his tiptoes, peering at Alex. "Daddy, why were you and Mommy on the floor earlier? Did you fall down?"

Emma giggled, her eyes wide with curiosity. "Yeah! Did you trip, Mommy?"