Page 49 of The Art of Loving You

“Like velvet!” Bess interrupted, bouncing with excitement. “Mom, you have to try it!”

I froze.

The wordMomhung in the air between us, so casual, so unforced. Bess hadn’t even realized what she’d said. But I had.

A tightness formed in my chest, something warm and aching all at once.

Lucas’s head turned slightly in my direction. His eyes met mine, soft but assuring, as if waiting to see how I’d react.

I forced a breath, then crossed my arms over my chest, schooling my expression into something neutral. “I’m brave,” I said, lifting my chin slightly. “I just prefer my sea creatures behind glass.”

Lucas smirked, his knowing expression laced with amusement. “Sounds like an excuse to me.”

“It’s a preference,” I corrected.

Bess giggled again, running her fingers over the water’s surface. “Come on, Mom, it’s fun!”

There it was again.

This time, my breath caught hard in my throat. I swallowed, my heart thudding against my ribs. Lucas said nothing, just continued watching me with that quiet intensity.

A part of me wanted to correct her, to gently remind her that she didn’t have to call me that. But another part of me—a much bigger part—wanted to hold onto her words, to wrap them around me and never let them go.

Before I could say anything, Bess turned to me, her face lighting up with an idea I could already tell was going to change everything. She ran straight toward me and threw her arms around my waist before tilting her head back to look up at me.

“Aunt Ella?”

Her voice was lighter than air, filled with excitement that made my heart tighten.

I crouched down to meet her at eye level, brushing a damp curl away from her forehead. “What is it, sweetheart?”

She hesitated, her tiny fingers twisting the fabric of her shirt as if gathering courage. Then, with the same unshakable confidence she carried in everything she did, she blurted out the words that sent my world tilting on its axis.

“Can I call you Mom instead?”

The air around me seemed to still. The sounds of the aquarium—the soft bubbling of tanks, the distant chatter of other families, the rhythmic splashes of stingrays—faded into the background.

I blinked, my breath catching.

“Bess…” My voice barely made it past my lips. I searched her face, trying to understand if she truly meant what she was asking.

Her expression didn’t waver. Pure, innocent, and unwaveringly sure. She filled the silence between us without hesitation. “You already take care of me like a mom,” she said as if it were the simplest truth in the world. “You love me like my real mom did.”

Her voice was small but steady, her brown eyes full of a kind of unquestionable trust that nearly undid me.

“I want us to be a real family.”

A sharp wave of emotion rose in my chest, thick and uncontainable. Love. Overwhelming, heart-wrenching, all-consuming. I had always loved Bess, always felt fiercely protective of her, but hearing her say it out loud—choosing me in this way—shattered something in me.

Tears burned at the corners of my eyes as I reached out and pulled her close, wrapping my arms tightly around her small frame.

“Oh, sweetheart,” I whispered against her hair. “Of course you can.” My voice broke on the words, and I held her even tighter. “I would love that more than anything.”

Bess hugged me back with everything she had, her little arms squeezing me like she never wanted to let go.

When I finally pulled back, I wiped at my damp cheeks, laughing softly at myself. That was when I felt Lucas’s presence beside us.

His hand rested gently on Bess’s shoulder, his expression unreadable—something deeper than just affection, something raw and unspoken.

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