CHAPTER 4. Connor
The pancakes melt in my mouth, sweet with blueberries and warm butter, but I’ve reached the point where every bite feels like a challenge. My stomach protests quietly as Caroline appears at my elbow with another stack, her smile so warm it feels almost criminal to refuse.
Noah, who sits next to me at the table, catches my eye, his expression somewhere between amusement and sympathy as his mother adds what must be a fifth serving to my plate.
I force a grateful smile and pick up my fork again, trying to calculate how many more bites I can manage before I reach my absolute limit.
“Mom, stop force-feeding Connor,” Noah says, shooting me a look that clearly expects backup. “He’s already full.”
“Nonsense,” Caroline replies, waving a hand dismissively. “Look at him—he’s got all those muscles. He needs to eat.” She beams at me with such genuine maternal pride that I can’t help smiling back, even as I feel my belt growing tighter.
“How do pancakes help with muscles?” Noah asks, raising an eyebrow.
“Carbs for energy,” I say before I can stop myself. “You need energy to build muscle.”
Caroline shoots Noah a triumphant look. “See? Connor knows. Doctors understand nutrition.”
Noah rolls his eyes at me, but there’s no real annoyance there. This kind of back-and-forth between him and his mother is clearly routine.
I take another bite, mostly to mess with him, then glance around the room.
The Main Cottage is exactly what you’d expect from a luxury rental—high ceilings with exposed wooden beams, tall windows overlooking the lake, and heavy wooden furniture softened with thick cushions.
The long dining table sits in a sunlit alcove, where we’ve been gathered for what Caroline keeps calling “brunch,” even though it’s well past noon.
At the head of the table, Daniel Caldwell glances up from his phone and chuckles, catching the end of our exchange.
“You might want to be careful with my wife, Connor,” he says, eyes bright with amusement. “When we first moved in together, Caroline fed me so much I gained thirty pounds in the first year.”
“It was not thirty pounds,” Caroline protests, swatting his shoulder. “Twenty, at most.”
“Thirty,” Daniel says, perfectly serious. “I had to buy new pants. Twice.”
I can’t help laughing. There’s something instantly easy about Noah’s father. He’s nothing like what I expected.
After reading Noah’s instruction sheet, I looked up his company and pictured someone imposing—the kind of man who builds real-estate empires and terrifies boardrooms for a living.
But Daniel Caldwell doesn’t feel intimidating at all.
He sits straight and speaks carefully, but there’s an easy humor about him that softens the whole impression.
He’s quick to smile, and I notice he has the same warm brown eyes as Noah.
“Connor, dear,” Caroline says, giving me a conspiratorial look, “you eat as much as you want. Don’t listen to them.”
“Thank you, Caroline,” I say, and she beams at me like I’ve just passed some kind of test.
“So, Connor,” Maya says, leaning forward with her elbows on the table, “you live in the apartment across from Noah’s, right? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you when I came over.”
I nod, cutting another piece of pancake and dragging it through the maple syrup. God, these things are addictive.
“Probably because I work shifts at the hospital,” I say. “I’m usually either there or asleep.”
“What kind of doctor are you again?” Daniel asks.
“Internal medicine,” I reply.
“That’s general medicine, right?” Caroline asks. “Not surgery?”
“Right,” I say. “We diagnose and treat adult patients with all kinds of conditions. Anything from pneumonia to heart failure. Mostly hospitalized patients.”
“That must be difficult,” Daniel says, studying me. “Long hours.”
“It can be,” I admit. “But I like the variety.”
Beside me, Noah shifts slightly, his knee pressing against mine under the table. The contact feels deliberate, a quiet little gesture of support while his family fires questions at me.
“How did you two meet?” Maya asks, glancing between us. “I mean, I know you’re neighbors, but how did you go from ‘the guy across the hall’ to dating, if you’re always either working or sleeping?” She gestures vaguely between us.
Noah goes still beside me. I catch his eyes for a split second—just long enough to see panic flash across his face. We agreed to stick to the truth, but we never fully fleshed out this part of the story.
He draws in a breath like he’s about to answer, but I jump in before he can.
“Actually, I sort of had a crush on Noah since we first met,” I say, surprising myself with how naturally it comes out.
Maya’s eyebrows shoot up. For a moment, the whole table just looks at me.
“I kept trying to find reasons to talk to him,” I add, committing to the story. “The washing machine in the basement was constantly broken, so that became my go-to excuse.”
Caroline laughs softly, and Maya grins.
It’s not entirely a lie, which probably explains why the words come so easily.
When I moved in two years ago, I noticed Noah almost immediately. It was hard not to—big brown eyes, soft curls, and a compact athletic build. Also, objectively speaking, a very nice ass.
But it wasn’t just that. Every now and then, when we crossed paths in the hallway, I’d catch Noah watching me for a second longer than a casual hello required. Nothing obvious—just that extra beat before we both moved on.
After a while I started noticing it more. And, for reasons I never really questioned, I began looking for those moments: the hallway nods, complaining about the building’s ancient plumbing, joking about the laundry room flooding every other month.
I smile a little. “I don’t think I’ve ever talked about laundry so much with anyone in my life.”
Caroline lets out another laugh, and Daniel chuckles beside her.
Noah turns to look at me fully now, perfectly still, as if any sudden movement might make the whole story collapse. His brown eyes search mine, and for a moment I wonder if he can tell I’m not entirely lying.
“I wanted to ask him out properly,” I continue, looking back at his mom, “but he never leaves his apartment, so it was hard to find the courage to knock on his door without a reason.”
“Noah!” Caroline says, throwing her son a disapproving look. “I told you you spend too much time in front of that computer. That’s why you’re always so pale, sweetheart.”
Noah blinks, like he’s just remembering where he is.
Color rushes into his face, turning him from pale to crimson in seconds.
He shoots me a look that clearly says You’ll pay for this, his lips pressed into a tight line that looks suspiciously close to twitching—I can’t tell whether from amusement or outrage.
“So when did you finally ask him out?” Maya says, clearly enjoying her brother’s discomfort.
“About two months ago,” I say, mentally checking the timeline from Noah’s instruction sheet. “I was coming home from a night shift, and he was coming back from the grocery store. We ended up in the elevator together, and I just went for it.”
Noah’s expression softens slightly.
I can tell he’s impressed with my improvisation. I’m threading the truth through the lie just enough to make the whole thing sound believable. The elevator part is actually true—we did run into each other a couple of months ago under almost the same circumstances.
“That’s really sweet,” Maya says, giving both me and her brother a crooked smile before focusing back on me. “Finally Mom will have someone else to torture about Noah spending all day at home and barely eating.” She presses her lips together solemnly. “Rest in peace, Connor.”
“Oh, stop it,” Caroline says. “You know I’m right. Noah needs to be more active. Connor, tell them how important staying active is for your health.”
“It’s very important,” I say, nodding.
Beside me, Noah rolls his eyes so hard his head tilts back with it.
“Regular physical activity is one of the best things you can do for your health,” I add, grinning at him.
He scoffs and leans closer, his breath brushing my ear. “Suck up.”
I snort, holding his gaze. “You should get more active, Noah.”
The corners of his mouth twitch, like he’s trying not to smile.
“Exactly,” Caroline says, sounding almost triumphant. “Finally someone’s talking sense to my boy. He needs that.”
“Mom,” Noah protests, but there’s no real heat behind it.
I bite back a smile. There’s something oddly endearing about seeing him like this—embarrassed but clearly loved, folded into this easy, teasing family rhythm.
“Speaking of getting active,” Daniel says, glancing around the table, “how about we go horseback riding and burn off some of those pancakes? There are stables here, and the trails along the lake are beautiful.” He looks at me. “Connor, what do you say?”
My stomach tightens at the word horseback, the easy mood from a second ago disappearing all at once.
I haven’t been on a horse since I was fourteen, and there’s a reason for that.
The first and only time I tried, the horse bolted across the field before I even understood what was happening.
One second I was just sitting there, and the next I was clinging to the reins as it tore across the grass.
Then it threw me off hard. I hit the ground and rolled onto my back, the wind knocked out of me.
Before I could even catch my breath, the horse circled back, its hooves pounding into the dirt close enough to my head that I was sure I was about to get trampled.
Someone eventually grabbed the reins and pulled the horse away, but for those few seconds I was just lying there in the dirt, staring up at it, convinced it was about to crush my skull.
Since then, I’ve had a very practical fear of horses. Luckily, living in the city means I almost never have to deal with them.