Her phone buzzed in her bag.
For a second, she almost didn't want to look—afraid it was a reminder about her next doctor's appointment or another email she didn't have the energy to answer.
But when she pulled it out, Lucas's name glowed across the screen.
She stared at it, heart fluttering with something she refused to call relief.
She took a steadying breath before answering. "Hello?"
"Bella." His voice was warm, but there was a thread of fatigue woven through it. "I'm sorry I didn't wake you."
She swallowed, her gaze drifting to the little family on the other bench. "It's all right," she lied.
"I had…urgent business." His words were careful, measured. The same tone he used when he didn't want to say too much.
"Of course," she said softly.
There was a pause. She imagined him somewhere behind his big desk, his tie loosened, a frown between his brows.
"I didn't want you to think I just…left," he went on. "I should have stayed longer."
Her throat tightened. "It's fine, Lucas. Really."
"It's not," he said, quieter. "I know you wanted me there. I wanted to be there."
She closed her eyes. The breeze lifted the ends of her hair, brushing her cheek.
"I understand you have things to take care of," she murmured.
"That doesn't mean I can't be present," he said. "I'm trying, Bella."
Her fingers flexed around the phone. She wanted to believe him.
"I know," she whispered.
Another pause stretched between them.
"Where are you?" he asked finally.
"At the park near our house," she said. "Just…thinking."
"Did you have breakfast?"
She almost smiled. "Yes. I fed your daughter, too."
His low laugh warmed her in spite of herself. "Thank you."
Silence again. Not uncomfortable—just weighted with all the things they weren't quite ready to say.
"I'll see you later today," he said at last. "I'll make sure of it."
"All right."
"Bella."
"Yes?"
"I meant what I said last night," he told her. "I want this. All of it."
Her heart gave a small, treacherous leap.
She pressed a hand to her belly, her voice barely a whisper. "I want it too."
When the call ended, she let out a long breath.
It didn't fix everything. But it helped.
For a little while, she just sat there under the old tree, letting herself believe that maybe wanting more wasn't so foolish after all.
Bella hadn't realized how long she'd been sitting there until her legs began to tingle with pins and needles.
She rubbed her palms over her thighs, trying to coax the feeling back, but still didn't quite feel ready to move.
It was ridiculous, she supposed—lingering in the park like some forlorn heroine in a melodrama. But the quiet had helped. The space to breathe, to think, to let the early anxieties of the morning loosen their grip.
She tipped her head back to watch a pair of birds hopping along a low branch above her, their chatter filling the hush.
That was when a flicker of movement in her peripheral vision made her turn.
A tall, familiar silhouette stood on the path a few feet away.
Bella blinked, thinking maybe she was imagining him. But then Lucas stepped closer, the breeze ruffling his dark hair. He wasn't in a suit anymore—just a pale shirt rolled up at the sleeves and tailored slacks, like he'd shed a layer of formality before finding her.
"Lucas?" she breathed, her heart thumping in a confused rush of relief and surprise. "What—what are you doing here?"
He lifted one shoulder in a quiet shrug, but there was something warm in his gaze she hadn't expected. "I finished what I needed to handle."
She swallowed, trying to read between the lines. "You said you'd be busy all day."
"I thought I would." His mouth curved in the faintest smile. "But it turns out I'll only be tied up after five."
Her chest tightened. "So…you came here?"
His expression softened as he looked at her, his hands sliding into his pockets. "You sounded upset on the phone."
Bella glanced away, embarrassed by how easily he could read her. "I wasn't—"
"You were," he said gently, not unkindly. "And I didn't want you sitting here alone, thinking too much."
Her throat worked. She pressed her palm to the bench beside her, searching for something to say that didn't sound pathetically grateful.
"I didn't expect you to come," she admitted at last, her voice small.
"I know."
He held out a hand to her. For a second, she just looked at it—strong, capable, the same hand that had steadied her so many times already.
And then she slipped her fingers into his.
He pulled her up carefully, as if she were something fragile.
"Come on," he said. "Let's get you out of here."
"Where are we going?"
His smile widened, slow and a little mischievous. "Shopping."
She stared at him, bewildered. "Shopping?"
"You've been worrying too much," he said simply. "I thought you might want a distraction."
Her heart turned over in her chest. "You don't have to do this to make up for leaving early," she said, though the protest sounded weak even to her own ears.
"I know," he said again, his thumb brushing over her knuckles. "But I want to."
They drove into the city, the silence between them different now—lighter, threaded through with something that felt almost like anticipation.
Bella watched him out of the corner of her eye as he navigated traffic, one hand steady on the wheel. Every so often, he glanced her way, as if to be sure she hadn't changed her mind.
And maybe, in that moment, she was realizing how much he meant it when he said he was trying.