The kitchen was filled with the comforting scent of vanilla and melted butter. Bella moved with practiced ease, measuring flour and cracking eggs, her sleeves rolled up, hair tied in a loose bun.
"I thought we were baking, not renovating," Lucas said, leaning against the counter with his arms crossed, watching the growing mess around them.
Bella shot him a look. "That's because you haven't helped yet."
"I'm observing. Supervising."
"Great. Then you can supervise the dishes later."
He chuckled and moved to stand beside her. "Alright, boss. What do I do?"
"Here," she handed him a bowl of dry ingredients, "mix this in slowly while I pour the milk."
Lucas did as told—somewhat. A cloud of flour puffed up as he stirred too quickly. Bella coughed and glared at him through the dust.
"Slowly! Are you trying to start a snowstorm in my kitchen?"
"I'm just enthusiastic." He grinned, completely unbothered by the mess he was making. "Baking brings out the wild side in me."
Bella rolled her eyes and reached to wipe a smudge of cocoa from his cheek with her thumb. "Wild, huh?"
Without missing a beat, he dipped his finger in the flour and gently flicked it at her. A streak landed across her nose.
Bella gasped. "Lucas!"
"You started it."
"I was cleaning your face!"
He stepped closer, closing the already small gap between them. "And I made yours prettier. Seems fair."
She laughed, backing up slightly, only to find herself trapped between the counter and his body. Her breath caught, just a little.
Lucas didn't touch her, but the way he leaned forward, placing his hands on the counter on either side of her, made the air between them shift.
Their eyes met. His gaze softened, lingering on her flour-dusted face. Her hands, still holding the mixing bowl, lowered as if the moment demanded stillness. Neither moved. The moment stretched — her heartbeat loud in her ears. She could smell the vanilla in the batter, the clean scent of his shirt.
"Are you... going to kiss me or stir the batter?" she asked, her voice quieter, teasing but uncertain.
His eyes dropped to her lips, just for a second. Then he smirked. "Tempting as that sounds... we'd burn the cookies."
Bella exhaled shakily, and he stepped back, brushing his hand over her shoulder as he turned toward the oven. She turned quickly to the oven, cheeks burning as she checked the timer.
She blinked, momentarily dazed, before shaking her head with a half-laugh and getting back to the task.
"Next time, warn me before you go all kitchen-dramatic on me."
"Next time, don't dust me like I'm your furniture."
A few minutes later, the timer beeped. Bella pulled the tray out and groaned.
"They're burnt."
Lucas peeked over her shoulder. "Only slightly. We'll call them... caramelized."
She sighed. "Good thing we made extra dough."
Lucas grinned. "I like how you think."
They finished the second batch without incident, still trading soft jabs and smiles. As they set the cooling tray on the counter, Lucas found himself watching her again—flour on her nose, hair escaping her bun, cheeks slightly pink from the heat.
She caught him staring. "What?"
"Nothing," he said, then smirked. "Just trying not to burn anything else."
_____________________________________
The afternoon sun slanted through the windshield, casting golden streaks across the dashboard. Lucas drove with one hand on the wheel, the other resting lightly on the gear, his focus steady on the road. Bella sat beside him, her hair catching the light as it danced slightly with the breeze from the slightly cracked window. They were on their way to Rachel's school.
She had been quiet for the first few minutes of the ride, fingers toying with the edge of her shirt. Lucas had noticed but didn't push. With Bella, silence was rarely empty — it was usually a sign she was thinking too much.
And sure enough, her voice came, soft but clear. "Lucas?"
He glanced at her. "Hmm?"
"When are you going to tell your parents… about the baby?"
His hands didn't jerk, but she saw the subtle change — the shift in his jaw, the tightness in his fingers around the steering wheel.
Lucas didn't respond immediately. Instead, he kept his gaze forward, driving in silence as her question echoed around them. The quiet stretched long enough that Bella began to second-guess herself.
But finally, he exhaled through his nose and spoke, voice calm but layered. "I've been thinking about that."
She looked at him, waiting.
He continued, slower now, "It's not just about calling them. My parents… they're still in Italy. And this," he glanced at her, hand drifting briefly toward her belly before returning to the wheel, "this is big. Too big to be shared over a call. They deserve more than that."
Bella nodded, understanding that part — but something in his tone made her feel there was more.
Lucas's thoughts had drifted far beyond the car.
The parcel.
The stalker still refusing to talk.
He knew that only a few people were aware of their marriage. Trusted people. But the danger still felt too close, too raw. Telling his parents now — involving them even emotionally — didn't feel safe. Not yet.
"I just want to be sure…" he added quietly, as they neared the school. "That everything's calm. That there's no shadow hanging over us when I tell them. They'll be thrilled, I know. But I want them to feel safe about it too."
Bella watched him, reading between the lines. She knew he wasn't telling her everything. There was something deeper behind his caution — something she hadn't seen yet.
But she nodded, quietly accepting. "Okay."
Lucas reached for her hand, squeezing it lightly before turning into the school driveway. "Thank you."
Just then, the bell rang and students began pouring out. And soon enough, a small figure sprinted toward them — ponytail bouncing, backpack askew.
"Dada!" Rachel grinned wide, arms flailing as she ran.
Lucas stepped out to greet her, scooping her up in one smooth motion. Whatever tension had hovered in the car melted as her laughter filled the air.
Bella stepped out of the car too, smiling softly at the sight. For now, some things were still safe. Still sweet.