Richard Hartley watched Bella hang up the phone, and even before she turned toward him, he knew something had changed. Her expression was calm, but there was a tightness in her shoulders that hadn't been there before.
"Kelly needs us to take Evan for the week," she said.
Richard blinked. "Eighteen-year-old Evan?"
She nodded.
Richard let out a long breath and leaned his hip against the kitchen counter. He wasn't upset—not really. Just surprised. Their home had been quiet for so long that the thought of another person living in it, even temporarily, felt strange.
Still, he nodded. "Okay. We can do that."
Bella gave a small smile of relief before moving to rinse her mug. Richard watched her as she moved—graceful without trying, hair falling over her shoulder in that familiar way. She didn't know he was staring, but he often did when she wasn't looking.
Because sometimes, he still couldn't believe she was his.
And watching her now stirred something old inside him, something he hadn't felt in a long time. It brought him back to the night they met—a memory he revisited more often than he would ever admit.
He hadn't even wanted to go out that night. Clubs weren't his scene. He'd been dragged there by coworkers, already thinking about how early he could leave without looking rude.
The music was too loud, the lights too bright, and the air too heavy with perfume and cologne.
He had been scanning for the exit when he saw her.
Bella.
Laughing, dancing, alive in a way that made everything else in the room feel muted. Her hair swung freely as she moved, her smile wide and recklessly joyful. She looked like a spark in motion, like nothing in the world could dim her.
That was her back then—a wild spirit, unpredictable and radiant.
She was beautiful in a way that stunned him. The warm, elegant features of Meghan Markle, but with her own fierce energy layered on top. She glowed. Not because of makeup or spotlight—she glowed because she didn't try to.
He remembered thinking he had absolutely no chance.
Then she caught him staring.
And instead of ignoring him like any other woman might, she walked straight toward him with a confidence that made his heart drop into his stomach.
"You look bored," she'd said, sliding onto the barstool beside him. "But something tells me you're only boring because you're not around the right people."
He had laughed. She grinned like she had just won a bet.
From that moment, he was done for.
They talked for hours. She pulled him onto the dance floor. She kissed him behind the club, her hands in his hair, her laughter against his mouth. He had never met anyone like her—someone who could pull life out of him with a single look.
By morning, he knew he was going to marry her.
The memory both warmed and ached inside him now.
Bella wasn't wild anymore. Neither was he. Life had settled around them in quiet layers—comfortable, familiar, but not electric.
Yet looking at her now… he still saw the woman he'd fallen so hard for. Still beautiful. Still toned. Still that same glow in her eyes, even if buried under routine.
She was still hot. God, yes—still effortlessly stunning.
He stepped closer, placing a hand on her shoulder.
"So," he said lightly, "we're going to have a teenager in the house. Should be interesting."
Bella laughed softly. "Interesting is one word for it."
Richard smiled at the sound. He hadn't heard her laugh like that in a while.
Maybe this would shake things up. Maybe a little chaos was exactly what they needed.
He hoped so.
Because watching her now, remembering the fire she used to carry, he felt something flicker back to life inside him.
A spark he had missed more than he could say