Page 14 of The Art of Loving You

“Hey,” I said, sinking into the chair beside her. “Quite the party, huh?”

Marie laughed, adjusting the brim of her sun hat. “It’s chaos, but the good kind. How’s it going with the exhibit?”

“Busy,” I admitted, glancing toward Bess, who was now scaling the inflatable slide. “I asked Lucas Devereux to help track down some of the harder-to-find pieces.”

Marie raised an eyebrow. “Devereux? As in the Devereux Gallery of Miami? Didn’t they already turn down our request?”

“They did,” I said carefully, not meeting her gaze. “But Lucas might have some connections his father isn’t involved with.”

Marie tilted her head, her expression skeptical but not unkind. “Well, good luck. If anyone can pull it off, it’s you.”

She shifted the talk to logistics, mentioning some museums we hadn't explored. I nodded, thankful but distracted. I nearly mentioned Lucas and us, but something held me back—maybe her tone, or perhaps I wasn't ready to voice it yet.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, the party slowly faded into the golden hues of evening. Parents gathered their children, laughter and lingering goodbyes filling the air. I helped Bess gather her things, wiping away the last traces of frosting from her cheeks before guiding her to the car. She chattered the whole ride home, her voice softening with sleepiness as she clutched her goodie bag like a prized possession.

By the time we pulled into the driveway, her excitement had settled and morphed into yawns. I carried her inside, her tiny fingers wrapped around me. After a warm bath, she was tucked into bed, her plastic diamond ring still on her finger.

“Goodnight, Aunt Ella,” she murmured, her eyes fluttering closed as I kissed her forehead.

“Goodnight, princess,” I whispered, pulling the covers snugly around her.

Soon, the house was quiet, the kind of stillness that made my thoughts louder. As I moved through the rooms, switching off lights and tidying up stray toys, Marie’s words from earlier lingered—her casual mention of Alistair and the Devereux name carrying more weight than I wanted to admit.

I finally settled on the couch, exhaustion pulling at me. It had been a good day. Bess was happy. Mom and Dad were doing better. Lucas... Lucas had been steady and warm in a way I hadn’t realized I needed.

But even with everything falling into place, a faint unease lingered. Maybe it was nothing—just the weight of balancing work, family, and the growing pull of my feelings for Lucas. Or perhaps it was something I wasn’t ready to name yet.

For now, I let it go. Tomorrow could wait.

I was about to head to bed when my phone buzzed on the coffee table. I leaned over to grab it, curiosity prickling at the edges of my sleepiness. It was a text from Lucas.

Lucas: Just spoke with Anthony at the Met. He’s willing to loan you a Chagall, but there’s one caveat. We have to go in person to sign off on it. It’s for insurance purposes.

My heart leaped. A Chagall from the Met? That was beyond anything I’d hoped for.

Ella: Are you serious? That’s incredible!

A second later, another message popped up.

Lucas: Completely serious. Would you mind if we made a trip of it? Maybe take Bess along?

I smiled so hard it hurt. Bess would love New York.

Ella: She’d be over the moon. Let’s talk about this.

Before I could hit send, my phone rang, Lucas’s name flashing on the screen.

I picked up, his deep voice greeting me before I could even say hello. “So, should I start looking up flights, or are you going to insist on driving?”

And just like that, the faint unease from earlier vanished, replaced by the thrill of planning something new—with him.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Lucas

The gentle whir of the jet's turbines faded as we approached Teterboro Airport. I glanced at Bess, whose small hands clutched the armrests, her eyes wide with excitement. Ella shifted beside her—it was all part of the quiet anticipation that came with landing somewhere new.

“Are we in New York now?” Bess asked, bouncing slightly. “Can we see the big buildings?”

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