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NOAH

“How’s your stomach?” I ask Denny as she slurps another bite of the homemade pastina soup I made.

“Better,” she says, relieving some of my concern.

“Good. But no more muffins for you, okay?”

“It wasn’t the muffins,” Charlotte argues.

I place my hand on hers. “Of course it wasn’t.”

Denny leans over, her voice a whisper. “It was totally the muffins.”

I chuckle, turning my attention back to Charlotte. She’s looked exhausted from the moment she walked through the door, and I worry she’s pushing herself too hard. “How was your day?”

“Good,” she clips.

“Do you want to talk about it?” I press.

“I’m fine.” She plasters on the fake smile. “Just tired.”

“Are you feeling okay? Everything okay with baby?”

“Yes, Noah,” she says, exasperated. “Baby and I are fine.”

We finish dinner and place our bowls in the sink. “Why don’t you take a bath, and I’ll clean up here?”

“I’ve got it.” She turns on the water and squirts soap on a sponge. “You worked all day. You must be exhausted.”

She’s right. I’m exhausted. But not half as exhausted as I’ll be if I stay up all night worrying about her instead of taking care of her.

Leaving the kitchen, I head to our bathroom and turn on the warm water. I throw in those Epsom salts she likes and make sure the temperature is pregnancy safe before heading back to the kitchen. I walk up behind her, snake my arms around, and turn off the faucet.

“Hey!” she says, spinning around and flicking water at me. “I’m doing dishes here.”

“No, I’m doing dishes,” I say, taking her wet hands in mine. “You’re taking a bath.”

“I told you I?—”

“Water’s already running.” I press a quick kiss to her knuckles. “If you don’t go check on it, we’ll have a flood in our house.”

“Fine, Noah, ” she says, cracking a smile. “No need to go building the ark.”

“Take your time. I’ll put the kids to bed.”

“You don’t have?—”

I put a finger over her lips, silencing her. “I want to do these dishes, and I want to put the kids to bed. Denny and I are reading about a princess locked in a castle, and I’ve got to find out what happens next.” That elicits a small laugh from her pretty lips.

“Fine,” she huffs, slapping the wet sponge in my hand, and heads to our bedroom.

* * *

“You have fun at campus today?” I ask Nash as I tuck him in after a half hour of intense Lego building.

“Lottie took us to see the football stadium.” He smiles, turning to face me and placing his hand under his head.

“Awesome,” I say, and we bump fists. “Did you meet some of our friends?”

“Yeah, they played catch with me.” He frowns. “But I wasn’t very good.”

“Wanna practice tomorrow? We can throw the ball around in the backyard.”

“Yeah.” He smiles wide. “I’d like that a lot.”

“Good,” I say, standing to leave.

“Noah,” he says, sitting up.

“Yeah, buddy?”

“Can you help me with something?” My chest squeezes that he’s comfortable asking me.

“What is it?”

He reaches under his pillow and pulls out a debit card. My brows furrow. “Lottie cried today because this card is broken,” he says, handing it to me, and I glance down at the name: Charlotte Benson. “I don’t think crying is good for the baby… and was hoping you can help me get her a new one.”

“First of all,” I say, cocking a brow, “don’t ever take anything from Lottie’s purse without asking. Understand?” He nods sheepishly. “Second of all, what happened?”

He fills me in on their entire trip to the store, including the “nice lady who brought out the groceries Lottie forgot,” and my shoulders tense with each new piece of information.

After leaving his room, I pull out my phone and solve Charlotte’s problem with the tap of a few buttons. And damn, does it feel good, alleviating all her stress with the simple swipe of my finger.