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8

CHARLOTTE

I sit in the passenger seat of Noah’s truck, an anxious freaking mess, trying my damndest to put on my “I’m totally chill” face.

It’s been a week since his offer to take my siblings camping, and I’m still shocked by it. What guy chooses six-year-olds over partying with their friends? Jonathan certainly never did.

Not to mention, considering I had a boyfriend until two weeks ago, the times we’ve spent alone can be counted on a single hand. My phone buzzes in my lap, and I’m thankful for the distraction.

SUSHI & SHIT-TALKING

ANDI

Why are there five types of pie in the kitchen

STELLA

Baby cakes, were you stress baking again?

I grin at the nickname I earned from frequently whipping up some type of sweet treat. Especially when I’m stressed.

ME

One of them is a quiche

Mommy couldn’t leave without preparing food for the children

ANDI

Thank you, mommy

You make it to the campsite yet?

ME

No, we’re on the way to Noah’s mom’s house & we still have to pick up the twins

STELLA

omg you’re meeting his mother

Oh my god, I’m meeting his mother.

Calm. I am the poster child for calm.

ME

So?

STELLA

so noah caruso is not the “bring them home to mama” type of guy

ME

What kind of guy is he?

ANDI

the “bring you home to bone” type of guy

and he is not a repeat offender

this is huge

ME

okay i love you guys. Truly. But noah and i are FRIENDSSSSS.

and jonathan and i JUST broke up

ANDI

I say fuck him

Noah not Jonathan (in case that wasn’t clear)

Heat flushes my cheeks.

ME

goodbye!

STELLA

have fun with mama caruso!

ANDI

have more fun with daddy noah

I slap the phone on my lap to avoid combusting with embarrassment just as Noah pulls into a driveway covered with round pool floats, a canoe, coolers, and other supplies that make no logical sense to me.

He puts the truck in park, and my eyes wander over the rest of the two-story, powder-blue house. There’s a white wraparound porch and a rocking chair swaying in the wind. Honeysuckle bushes line the walkway on both sides, and a sign that says “ Love Grows Here” sticks out of the grass.

It’s quaint and perfect and lovely, and everything my life is not.

“Hey,” Noah says softly, looking over at me.

“Yes?”

“Why do you look all stressed?” He narrows his eyes. Guess I wasn’t displaying as much “chill” energy as I thought.

“I’m not stressed,” I say in a high-pitched voice, completely giving myself away.

“Are you nervous to meet my mom?” he asks, the corner of his lip quirking in a teasing grin. How the hell?

“What?” I scoff. “No. I have no reason to be nervous.”

Keep telling yourself that, Char.

Noah rests his arm on the back of my seat, and my shoulder tingles. “You’re gonna love her.”

“Of course I am,” I say, trying to shake away the nerves from this bizarre situation.

We hop out of the truck and walk toward the front steps. As we reach them, the door swings open, and a woman with kind eyes steps barefoot on the porch. She’s clad in jeans and a white T-shirt, her brown hair twisted up in a bun. A colorful apron dancing with lemons is tied around her with an assumedly Italian saying I can’t quite decipher.

Noah was right. I love her.

“Welcome!” the woman says to us, throwing her arms around Noah and kissing him on both cheeks. “ Ciao, sole mio.”

“Ciao, mamma,” he tells her.

She pulls away, turning her attention to me, and tugs me in for a tight hug like she’s known me for years. The gesture is unexpected and makes me laugh. “Sorry.” She releases me, hands still on my shoulders. “I’ve just heard so much about you,” she says in a beautiful Italian accent, her words wrapping around me. She has? “Feels like I know you.”

“It’s okay,” I say, side-eyeing Noah, then returning my gaze to her.

“I’m Noah’s mom, Luna.”

“Hi, Luna.” I wave, a handshake feeling unnecessary after the hug. “I’m Charlie.”

“Oh, we know all about you, Ms. Charlotte ,” she replies, and my cheeks warm. “Please.” She gestures us inside, and we follow her through the door.

A familiar aroma floods my senses, and my mouth waters. “It smells heavenly in here.”

“There’s cinnamon walnut cookies in the oven.” Luna smiles proudly, and I share a look with Noah.

Cinnamon is my favorite baking spice.

We follow Luna to the kitchen, truly the masterpiece of the house. There’s a spacious island, flour sprinkled across it, along with other ingredients set to the side and a used mixing bowl. A massive gas stovetop with a double oven beneath it has my full attention.

“Oh my goodness.” I gasp, rushing over to a Smeg Stand Mixer illustrated with the most beautiful floral pattern I’ve ever seen. “You have the Dolce & Gabbana 50’s Retro Mixer!” Upon hearing the words leave my mouth, I realize I’m totally geeking out, but I don’t even care. “It’s even more stunning in person.”

Luna laughs. “My husband got it for me for Christmas. When Smeg came out with the Sicily is My Love collection, he knew it would remind me of my family.”

I run my fingers along the intricate colorful pattern. “It’s beautiful.”

“Thank you,” she says proudly.

“You’re originally from Sicily?” I ask.

“Yes,” she says, retrieving a stick of butter from the fridge. “I moved here in college.”

“Is that the NFL’s next top rookie quarterback gracing us mere mortals with his presence?” a loud, deep voice says as a man rounds the corner of the hallway.

Noah’s smile grows wide as he walks toward the man, who I assume must be his stepdad. “Hey.”

The man throws his arms around Noah and hugs him tightly. After releasing him, he wanders toward me and extends his hand. “Tony.”

“Charlie.” I return the gesture with a smile. “Nice to meet you.”

“Can’t believe you talked Noah into going camping,” Luna says. “We haven’t gotten him to go in years.”

My eyes flick toward Noah, who’s looking at her apologetically. “I’ve been busy.”

Luna holds up a hand. “I’m not saying anything. Just glad you’re finally going again.”

“Hope you remember how to put up a tent,” Tony teases, lightening the mood.

“I think I can manage,” Noah grumbles, and I fight a smile. It’s nice hearing people talk to Noah like a normal person and not the five-year-plan, perfect-at-everything man he is on campus.

“Well, just in case,” Tony tells him. “I’ll give you a refresher while we load the stuff in the truck.”

He and Noah exit the kitchen, leaving me alone with Luna. Shit . I’m not prepared for this. She begins another batch of dough, and I wring my hands together, fingers itching to join in.

“Want to crack the eggs?” she asks, and a smile spreads across my face. I wash my hands, rushing to join her at her workstation. This is good. Baking is good.

We fall into comfortable silence, aside from her directions for pouring in the needed ingredients. Although they’re hardly necessary. I could whip up a batch of cookies of any variety with my eyes closed.

“Noah mentioned this will be your first time camping?” she asks.

“Yes,” I say. “My parents weren’t really the camping kind… maybe the glamping kind.”

Even though I was raised middle class, my mom came from old money. The thought of sleeping in a tent in the middle of the woods repulsed her. She said as much when I called for permission to take the kids, but given her busy campaign schedule and lack of help this week, she was more than happy for the offer.

“We went all the time when Tony and I were first dating,” she says.

“How long have you been together now?”

Luna smiles. “About seven years. Married for three.”

“He and Noah seem close.”

She scoops dough out of the mixing bowl and rolls it into a ball before placing it on the lined baking tray. “Tony was there for us a lot in the wake of my ex-husband.” Her admission surprises me, given Noah’s avoidance on the subject.

“Noah doesn’t really talk about him,” I say, rolling dough myself, stomach tightening. “His dad, I mean.”

“It’s a sore spot,” Luna says, and I nod. “Are you missing cheer since season ended?”

“Yes,” I say, noting her change of subject. “I’m looking forward to starting training again next month.”

“At Camp Dickson, right? Like Noah did?” she asks, and I nod. “Oh, he always loved that place.”

“Yeah, it’s really fun,” I say, thinking of the shenanigans I got into with the girls last year. And Jonathan. My stomach sinks at the reminder. The training camp invites a few collegiate football teams, Jonathan’s school included, and given he’s their quarterback… fuck, I forgot about that.

“Noah mentioned you’re majoring in education?” Luna asks, pulling me out of my spiral.

“Yes,” I say, shifting on my feet. “Early childhood education.”

“That’s wonderful.” She smiles wide, filling me with a sense of relief. “It truly takes a special kind of person to have the patience to teach. Especially young children.”

A special kind of person.

If only my mother felt that way instead of seeing it as a passion profession.

* * *

“You gonna give me one of those?” Noah asks as I shove another cinnamon cookie in my mouth during our drive to get my siblings.

“Maybe,” I mumble, a cookie crumb falling out, and I catch it, tossing it back in. “If you give me a really good fun fact.”

“A good fun fact…” He taps his fingers against the steering wheel. “Did you know a Roman emperor burned a year’s worth of cinnamon at his wife’s funeral as a symbol of his grief?”

My face scrunches up, staring at the once delicious treat. “So this is a funeral cookie?”

“Follow-up fun fact,” Noah says, ignoring my cookie conundrum. To eat, or not to eat. That is the question. “The emperor was actually the one who killed her.”

My gaze snaps to Noah. “What kind of fun fact is that? That is the opposite of a fun fact. That is a funless fact.” I toss the cookie back in the container and close it. “No cookie for you.”

He rolls his eyes, fighting a smile. “But you both worked so hard on them. Can’t I have one ?”

“Later.” I wave him off, ignoring his puppy dog pout. “You must be punished for forcing me to lose my appetite.”

“Can’t you just put me in time-out, Ms. Benson?” he says, eyes lighting up as he grins my way, and I squirm in my seat.

Groaning, I yank open the container, holding it toward him. “Just take your murder cookie.”

“Victory!” He snatches one and scarfs it in a few bites, then releases a breathy moan. “ Mmm. Quasi meglio del sesso. ”? 1

I ignore the way his impeccable Italian makes me shiver, even though I have no idea what he’s saying, and opt to change the subject. “You were right, by the way.”

“About?”

“I love your mom. Can we go back next weekend?”

Noah side-eyes me. “This is why I don’t bring friends home. They end up liking her more than me.”

“Noah’s mom has got it going on,” I sing to the tune of the catchy 2000s hit.

“Please stop.” He cringes. “You’re good at so many things, but singing is not one of them.”

“Noah, can I come over after schoooool?” I belt off-key.

“Stop it!” he begs with a laugh, pinching my side.

I yelp, flinching away. “Hey! Focus on the road.”

“My apologies.” He places both hands on the wheel. “Ten and two. Ten and two.”

“Thank you.”

“And besides, I’m in Seattle next weekend for a tour with the Grizzlies,” he says, reminding me of his impending move, and my stomach sinks. “I have to leave for the airport Thursday after graduation.”

“Right,” I say, glancing over, allowing myself to get an extra long look at him. He taps his left hand on his thigh to the beat of the music while his head bobs back and forth. A few days’ worth of stubble covers his jaw, and I find myself wondering how it would feel rubbing between my thighs.

Charlotte, it’s going to be a long weekend if you allow these thoughts to flood your brain.

Noah grips the steering wheel loosely, his elbow resting on the center console. The veins in his arm tense and release as he moves his hand along the leather. He reaches up to scratch his chiseled chin, and I can’t take my eyes off his perfect mouth as he brushes his thumb over his plump lip. The CBU Football hat adorned atop his head is backwards, and that’s just not even fair.

It should be illegal for a man to wear a backwards ball cap when you’re trying to keep them in the friend zone.

“Something I can help you with?” Noah asks, catching me staring.

My cheeks ignite. Along with the rest of my body. The Roman emperor has burned me along with the cinnamon. “Just trying to figure out why you’re doing this for me.”

“Your siblings seem awesome, and I’m looking forward to something more low-key.”

“Is that really why?” I ask, ruining my illusion of nonchalance.

“I can party with the boys any time,” he says, twinkling green eyes meeting mine for a split second before he focuses back on the road.

“Well, I’m super grateful you’re giving up tits and tequila for tents and twins.”

Theo was very adamant on that fact.

“Stop acting like I’m doing you a favor.” Noah shakes his head, a crooked smile spreading across his face. “I’m exactly where I want to be.”

A sense of serenity takes hold inside me, and we settle into comfortable conversation all the way to Longwood.

We pull up to the Benson estate, and a rock the weight of a two-ton elephant returns to my stomach. It’s cold and callous shell is a total contrast from Noah’s cozy white-picket home oozing love and family. He doesn’t comment on the lavish building as we get out of the truck, and I’m grateful.

The moment we’re inside, Mom’s voice pierces my ears. “Kids, are you ready yet?” she calls down the hall.

“Almost!” Nash shouts back.

“I’ve gotta leave when Charlie gets here,” she says as I close the door with a loud thud. Just like her, always running out. Her footsteps echo down the hallway, and she comes into view. “Oh, good,” she says. “I was worried you’d run late. I have a meeting in”—she looks down at her watch—“well, now, actually.”

“We’re here,” I say.

“Pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Benson,” Noah says, extending his hand. “I’m Noah.”

“Pleasure’s all mine,” she says, donning a perfectly poised smile. “Thank you so much for taking them on this trip.”

“Of course, happy to.” He’s happy to.

“You’re lucky to have such a good friend , Charlie,” Mom says, checking her watch again. My eyes find Noah’s, and our lips quirk to a matching smile. It seems I am. “Kids, you ready?”

Nash rounds the corner, a ginormous backpack hooked on his shoulders, and I’m filled with happiness at the sight of him.

“I’m so excited,” he says, grinning ear to ear, one misstep from toppling over.

“Me too,” I say, squeezing him tightly.

“I’m readyyyyy !” Denny calls out, dragging her equally large bag down the hallway. Noah laughs, the warm, unfamiliar sound echoing in the spacious foyer, and he walks to her.

“Isn’t this a little too big for you?” Noah teases.

“Aren’t you a little too big for weird mask T-shirts?” Denny sasses back, and Noah glances down.

“This is Darth Vader,” Noah scoffs. “It’s a classic.”

“It’s lame,” she says with an eye roll.

“Denver,” Mom snaps, using her legal name. “Is that any way to speak to a guest?”

“No,” Denny mumbles. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Noah assures Mom, grabbing Denny’s bag and throwing it over his shoulder.

“Okay, I’m off,” Mom says, leaning down to kiss the twins on the head and striding towards the door. No kiss for me. “Can you lock up?”

“Sure,” I say, giving her a hesitant wave, and she sends me a weak smile. Things are tense, but we’re at least on cordial speaking terms.

Noah installs the booster seats into his truck, and we each take a kid. Nash fends me off, climbing up and buckling himself. Denny’s giggle pulls my attention as Noah blasts her off the ground, making a whooshing sound like a rocket, then sets her in the seat and buckles her in.

If backwards ball caps are illegal, it should be treason for a man in said friend zone to pair it with effortlessly slipping into the role of daddy . My ovaries are exploding.

Down, girl.

Hopping in the passenger seat, I put on Noah’s favorite playlist. He drives down the country road toward the highway, and my gaze wanders to him once more. His window is cracked, the breeze blowing the dark hair peeking out from under his hat, the kids are teasing each other in the back seat, and a wide smile spreads across my face at how very normal it all feels.

1 ? IT: Mmm. Quasi meglio del sesso. - EN: Mmm. Almost better than sex.