Page 53 of The Art of Loving You

Before I could respond, the noise outside escalated.

“Lucas, your father pled guilty—do you have a statement?”

“Are you taking over the Devereux Gallery?”

“How does it feel to be moving on with your life while your father faces sentencing?”

I exhaled slowly, keeping my tone measured as I addressed them. “This is an event that has nothing to do with my father. It’s not a press conference.” I refused to let my father’s sins overshadow Ella’s success. My focus wasn’t on the past.

It was about our future.

As the event wound down, I pulled her aside into a quiet corner. “You killed it today,” I murmured, caressing her cheek with my thumb.

Ella smiled. “Even with the interruptions?”

“Especially with them.” I kissed her, slow and deep. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”

She smirked. “Even putting up with my stubbornness?”

I chuckled. “I think that’s my favorite part.”

With my arm around her waist, we walked to the car, eager to pick up Bess.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Ella

A Few Months Later

As I stepped into the limo, the warm breeze carried the scent of the ocean, and my fingers were still intertwined with Lucas’s. The sand beneath my feet had been the stage for our vows, and the setting sun was a golden witness to our promises. Now, as the waves rolled in behind us, we were stepping into the next chapter of our lives.

Bess stood at the edge of the shore, her flower girl dress slightly rumpled from a full day of twirling and running barefoot in the sand. She waved wildly, her curls bouncing as she called out, “Don’t forget, Dad, you promised to bring me something from Paris!”

Lucas chuckled, resting an arm along the open door. “I did, and I keep my promises.”

I leaned down, pressing a kiss to Bess’s forehead. “Be good for Grandma and Grandpa, okay?”

She nodded solemnly before her face broke into a grin, and my mother gently guided her back toward the gathered guests. Mom’s eyes shimmered, emotions brimming beneath her usual composure. My father, more reserved, gave Lucas a firm nod of approval—the silent seal of acceptance I knew meant everything to him.

Maria and Gabrielle stood side by side, champagne flutes in hand, their elegance only slightly undercut by their misty-eyed smiles. “Go,” Maria called playfully. “Enjoy the honeymoon, and don’t check your emails.”

“Don’t worry about the gallery either. I’ve got this,” Gabrielle called out.

Marshall, standing off to the side, raised his glass in silent amusement. Always the observer, always one step ahead.

As the limo pulled away, I exhaled, leaning into Lucas, my fingers tracing the cool metal of his wedding band. “Married life looks good on you.”

Lucas smirked. “Whatever that look is, it will be even better in Paris.”

The drive through Coconut Grove was quiet, the streets lined with towering palms that swayed under the warm Miami night. Lucas’s fingers were laced with mine, his grip steady but thoughtful. I knew what this homecoming meant to him—how much weight it carried.

As the limo turned onto the private drive, the Devereux mansion came into view, its stately columns and arched windows bathed in golden light. It wasn’t intimidating, not to me. It was simply a place that had shaped the man beside me—a man I now called my husband.

The car rolled to a stop, and before the driver could open the door, it swung open from the inside.

Elizabeth stood at the entrance, framed by the ornate doors, as elegant and composed as ever. But her eyes—warm, expectant—were fixed only on Lucas.

She reached for me first, pulling me into a genuine embrace. The soft scent of her perfume lingered as she whispered, “I always knew. You’re exactly who he needed.”

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