Bella had spent most of the afternoon moving between small chores and her painting, trying not to glance at the clock every few minutes. Even though she'd told herself she didn't mind Lucas being out longer today, she couldn't help missing his presence.
By the time Rachel came home from school around noon, chattering about her drawing contest and what her friend had packed for lunch, Bella felt more grounded. She made them both a light meal and listened patiently as Rachel recounted every detail of her day.
When Rachel settled down with her coloring books, Bella slipped back to the easel. She had already shifted Lucas's painting in Rachel's room and now is working on a new one. Her brush moved in soft, thoughtful strokes, bringing to life a dreamy landscape inspired by Rachel's favorite colors.
She wasn't sure how long she'd been working when she felt something shift in the air—like a familiar weight pressing gently against her thoughts.
She turned, startled, and nearly dropped her palette.
Lucas was standing behind her, his jacket still on, his eyes steady and soft in the golden glow of the lamp.
"You scared me," she murmured, pressing a hand to her chest.
He didn't immediately answer. Instead, he let his gaze drift over the painting. "That's beautiful," he said finally, his voice low. "Did you start this today?"
She nodded, feeling her cheeks warm. "It's…not finished."
He tilted his head, studying the canvas as though it were something precious. "It doesn't matter. It's lovely."
Their eyes met, and for a moment neither spoke. Bella looked away first, her fingers tightening on her paintbrush. "You're home early."
"It's almost six," he corrected gently. "Earlier than last time."
She tried to hide her smile. "Still late."
He only shook his head, amused, then stepped closer and pressed a light kiss to the top of her hair before he took off his jacket. It was something he had grown accustomed to after living together with her.
"Come on," he said, a little too casual. "Let's make dinner."
"I can handle it," she protested, but he was already rolling up his sleeves.
"You've been busy all day. Let me help."
"Lucas, I was not busy the whole day—"
"Bella."
His tone was patient but final, the way it always was when he decided something. She sighed, setting her brush aside. "Fine. But you can't complain if it's messy."
He glanced at her over his shoulder. "That's the point."
They moved into the kitchen together, the atmosphere shifting into something lighter. He pulled ingredients from the fridge while she hunted for the good pasta pot. Rachel padded in to announce she was going to watch her cartoons, then disappeared with a wave.
"You know," Bella began as she arranged tomatoes on the counter, "most people want to relax after a long day."
He gave her a look. "I am relaxing."
She tried to scowl at him, but her smile betrayed her.
Soon the kitchen smelled of garlic and herbs. Lucas chopped vegetables with the same quiet precision he did everything else, though every so often he'd steal glances at her. When she reached for the flour, he caught her wrist.
"I'll do that part."
"You don't trust me?" she teased.
He leaned in, close enough that she could feel the warmth of him. "No. You get distracted." His reference to their morning banter left her speechless but she was wrongly accused here. It was not her who got distracted, it was him who was unable to control himself and grabbed her waist.
"I do not—"
He flicked a little flour at her cheek before she could finish.
Bella's mouth dropped open. "Did you just—"
Lucas looked unrepentant. "You had something on your face."
"You put it there!"
He laughed, a rich sound that made something twist pleasantly in her chest. Then he reached out, brushing the flour from her cheek with the pad of his thumb. His touch lingered longer than it needed to, warm against her skin.
She forgot what she'd been about to say.
Neither of them moved right away. The kitchen felt smaller somehow, filled with soft tension and the quiet crackle of something they didn't dare name yet.
Finally, she cleared her throat and stepped back, pretending to check the pot. "You're impossible."
Lucas only smiled as he went back to the cutting board. "Maybe."
They finished the pasta together, working around each other in a practiced, gentle rhythm—like they'd done it a hundred times.
By the time Rachel reappeared to announce she was hungry, the three of them sat down to eat, the warmth of the kitchen and the memory of his touch still lingering on Bella's skin.
Rachel was finally winding down after dinner, the last waves of her endless energy softening into drowsy yawns. She lay nestled between them, her tiny hand resting against Bella's arm as if afraid to let go.
Lucas had offered to tell her a bedtime story, and Bella watched with an ache in her heart as his deep, patient voice smoothed the little girl's breathing.
"…and when the princess found her way home, she realized she had been brave all along," he murmured.
Rachel blinked slowly. "Just like Mama."
Bella smiled, brushing a stray curl from Rachel's forehead. "Just like you, silly goose."
Rachel hummed something sleepy in response, her eyelids fluttering shut. Within minutes, her soft breathing settled into the steady rhythm of sleep.
Lucas looked past Rachel to meet Bella's eyes. The room was dim except for the warm glow of the bedside lamp. The hush around them felt heavier than silence, almost sacred.
"She's out," he whispered.
Bella nodded. But instead of moving away, she stayed where she was, her hand still resting lightly on Rachel's back. "Lucas," she said softly, her voice low enough not to disturb their daughter, "can I tell you something?"
His brow lifted. "Of course."
She exhaled, eyes dropping to the swell of her belly beneath her loose cotton shirt. "Sometimes I think… I'm still not ready. That I won't be a good mother to two children."
His features gentled instantly. "You already are."
"I'm serious," she insisted in a hushed voice, feeling her throat tighten. "I never pictured this. A real family. A baby growing inside me. All the…all the responsibility. And then other times…" Her lips curved, tremulous but genuine. "Other times, I can't stop thinking about it. About meeting them. About what they'll look like."
Lucas shifted closer, careful not to wake Rachel. He laid his hand over hers on her belly. "You don't have to pretend you're fearless, Bella."
Her eyes pricked with emotion. "I think I've started to…want you more now. All the time. Even when you're not here."
He didn't flinch. Instead, he leaned in and pressed a lingering kiss to her forehead, letting his thumb rub soothing circles against her knuckles.
"You can want me," he whispered into her hair. "I'll be here. Always. You're already the best mother this baby could ever have."
Bella's heart thumped against her ribs. She closed her eyes, trying to trap this feeling—the warmth, the certainty, the relief.
After a moment, she felt his hand move over her stomach again, just resting there. It felt like a promise she hadn't realized she needed.
When she finally opened her eyes, she found Lucas studying her. Not with his usual teasing smirk, but something steadier. Something that felt dangerously close to love.
Unable to hold his gaze any longer, she turned to look at Rachel, who was still fast asleep between them. Lucas's fingers brushed hers, and without thinking, she twined them together.
For a while, neither of them spoke. They just lay there, side by side, their child breathing softly, their hands joined over the quiet heartbeat between them.