Eventually, Rachel convinced them both, and they walked—hand in hand—to the colorful ice cream shop just across the street. It was cozy and loud, filled with the chatter of other families and the hum of laughter.
Bella helped Rachel choose a ridiculous three-flavor sundae with rainbow sprinkles and marshmallows on top. She was just about to say no to herself when Lucas nudged her toward the counter.
"I already ordered yours," he said.
Bella blinked. "What?"
He pointed to the cup in the staff's hand. Vanilla with a little honey swirl.
"You looked at it on the menu for three seconds longer than the others. I took that as a yes."
She narrowed her eyes. "That's creepy."
He smirked. "That's observant."
They found a table by the window, and Rachel, halfway through her sugar tower, started to lean against Bella's side, her spoon slowing down.
"Do you want me to finish that for you?" Bella asked gently, brushing back Rachel's curls.
Rachel gave a sleepy nod. "I think...the marshmallows made me tired."
Lucas reached over and plucked one from the top of her sundae. "Lightweight," he murmured.
Bella smiled at the two of them. Rachel had nestled fully into her side now, fingers tucked into Bella's sleeve like she was anchoring herself to something safe.
Lucas watched her—watched them—with that same unreadable look he sometimes had when he thought she wasn't paying attention.
And then, quietly, he said, "You look good tonight."
Bella turned her head toward him slowly, caught off guard.
"You say that like I don't on other nights," she teased, her voice softer than she meant it to be.
Lucas tilted his head slightly. "Other nights, you look...like home."
Her breath caught.
Not because of what he said exactly, but because of how he said it—low and honest, like he wasn't trying to charm her. Just telling her.
She looked down, brushing her thumb lightly across Rachel's hand. "You're getting better at this whole...talking thing."
He gave a small shrug. "Only when I'm talking to you."
The words hung in the air, gentle but weighty.
Bella didn't know what to say. And maybe she didn't need to.
She met his eyes, and they simply stayed like that—just seeing each other.
On the ride home, Rachel dozed off in the back seat, ice cream dreams on her tongue.
Lucas drove quietly, one hand on the wheel, the other brushing against hers on the console. He didn't move it away. Neither did she.
And in that hush—filled only with city lights passing like soft waves outside the window—Bella felt something settle inside her.
Not quite certainty.
But something close.
Rachel barely stirred as Lucas carried her into the house, her little arms curled around his neck, her breath warm and even against his shoulder.
Bella followed behind, heart wrapped in quiet contentment. The evening had been soft, sweet—the kind that made her forget everything that had once felt so heavy.
In Rachel's room, Lucas gently laid her on the bed. Bella tucked her in, brushing loose curls from her daughter's face as Rachel murmured something in her sleep.
Lucas lingered at the doorway as Bella leaned in and whispered, "Sweet dreams, my girl."
When she turned, he was still watching—not Rachel, but her. Something unspoken in his expression.
They stepped out of the room together and gently shut the door. The hallway was dim, lit only by the soft nightlight glow spilling from under Rachel's door. The air felt still—thick with something Bella didn't want to name.
She leaned against the wall, exhaling quietly. "She's growing so fast," she murmured. "Every time I blink, she feels older."
Lucas's gaze softened. "She's lucky. She'll have everything she needs."
A pause stretched between them. A heartbeat. Then another.
"I didn't expect this," Bella admitted, voice low. "Any of it. You. This...peace."
Lucas stepped closer, his voice gentle. "Does it scare you?"
"A little," she whispered. "Because it feels like something I could get used to."
He took another step. Close enough that she could see the flicker of uncertainty in his eyes—so rare for him, and somehow even more grounding.
"Bella." Her name came like a confession, quiet and steady. "Can I—"
He didn't finish. He didn't have to. He leaned in, slow and unhurried. Not demanding, not testing—just asking.
Bella's breath caught. Her eyes fluttered shut. And then—her hand rose instinctively, pressing gently against his chest.
Lucas stilled. Not hurt. Not confused. Just waiting.
Bella opened her eyes, her fingers still resting between them like a wall made of glass. Her voice came out soft. "I'm not ready."
Lucas searched her face. "Because of the baby?"
"No," she whispered. "Because of... me."
His brows drew together gently, not with frustration, but understanding.
"I need time," Bella said quietly. "To figure out where I stand. What I feel. It's not just about a kiss—it's what it could lead to, what it might mean."
Lucas's hand rose slowly, brushing a strand of hair from her face. He didn't pull her closer.
Instead, he nodded once. "Then I'll wait. No pressure. No rush."
Bella felt her chest tighten—not in fear, but in something far more vulnerable.
They stood like that for a few more seconds, almost touching. Almost reaching. But not yet.
Later that night, as she slipped into bed and turned off the lamp, Bella let the silence settle around her.
She wasn't sure what came next.
She only knew that something had shifted—that there was something in Lucas's eyes that stayed with her, long after he'd stepped away.
She didn't know when—or even if—she'd be ready.
But she knew one thing, he hadn't stepped back. And somehow, that mattered more than anything else.