CHAPTER 3. Noah
A gentle touch on my shoulder yanks me back to consciousness.
For a moment, I’m completely disoriented—head fuzzy, mouth dry, neck stiff from sleeping at an angle humans weren’t designed for.
I blink against the sudden light and realize the car isn’t moving anymore.
Connor sits beside me, his hand hovering near my shoulder like he’s not sure if he should touch me again.
“We’re here,” he says simply.
I jolt upright, swiping at my mouth. Oh God. Did I drool? I did. I definitely drooled.
“Shit. I fell asleep?” I scrub at my face, trying to force my brain back online.
Connor nods, unbuckling his seat belt. “You were out about a minute after you said you wouldn’t.”
Heat crawls up my neck.
“Why didn’t you wake me up?”
He shrugs. “You looked like you needed the sleep.”
I check my watch—almost noon. We’ve been driving for nearly three hours, and I spent most of it snoring in the passenger seat while Connor navigated unfamiliar roads alone.
The guilt hits immediately. The least I could have done was stay awake and keep him company.
“I’m so sorry,” I say, rubbing my eyes. “I didn’t mean to leave you driving in silence for so long.”
“It’s fine,” Connor says, opening his door. “I didn’t mind. Besides, it wasn’t completely silent. You talk in your sleep.”
I freeze halfway through unbuckling my seat belt. “I what? What did I say?”
The corner of his mouth quirks up. “Nothing incriminating.”
Before I can demand details, he’s out of the car, stretching his arms overhead. His T-shirt rides up, exposing a strip of skin above his waistband and the edge of what looks like another tattoo. I jerk my eyes away and fumble for the door handle.
As soon as I’m outside, I stretch too, my joints cracking in protest after being folded up for so long.
The property sits on a gentle slope that leads down to the lake, the water a flat blue mirror reflecting the hills along the far shore.
Three gray-blue cottages stand about twenty feet apart, each with its own wide porch and tall windows.
All three are two stories, the same wood-and-stone style with slate roofs, though the main one is larger, with a stone chimney rising from one end.
It’s quiet except for birds and the distant hum of a motorboat somewhere on the lake. The trees aren’t fully green yet, but there’s a softness to everything—a hazy quality to the light that makes the whole scene look like something out of a travel magazine.
The air smells like pine and lake water—nothing like the city we left behind. I take a deep breath and try to ground myself. We’re here. This is happening. I’m about to introduce my straight neighbor as my boyfriend to my family just to prove to my ex that I’ve moved on.
My stomach churns. I should have said something—how weird this is going to be, how much I don’t want to see Rick. But that would have meant admitting I’m not as unaffected by Rick as I pretend to be.
My chest tightens as I try to imagine how this weekend is going to play out.
“Are you okay?” Connor asks, studying my face.
“Yup, I’m great.” I nod too many times. “Just…mentally preparing.”
Connor doesn’t respond, but his gaze lingers a beat too long. Then he moves to the back of the car and pops the trunk. I step up beside him, but before I can argue, he pulls both our bags out.
“Wait,” I say. “You don’t have to—”
“It’s fine,” Connor says, ignoring my attempt to take mine from him.
“Connor—”
The front door of the Main Cottage bangs open, cutting me off mid-protest.
“Noah!”
I turn toward the sound and spot my mother hurrying down the steps, my sister Maya right behind her.
Mom’s wearing beige linen pants and a matching shirt, the kind of outfit you’d see in a commercial for some luxury retirement community.
Her hair is perfectly styled—like she just stepped out of a salon—even though I know she and Dad got here yesterday and we’re basically in the middle of nowhere.
Maya, by contrast, looks as if she just rolled out of bed—athletic shorts, an oversized T-shirt with her hockey team’s logo, and her dark hair twisted into a messy bun.
“Oh God,” I mutter under my breath. “Here we go.”
“Relax,” Connor says quietly, setting the bags down. “It’s just your family.”
I take a deep breath and try to match his composure as my mother and sister approach, practically jogging across the gravel driveway.
“Noah, sweetheart!” Mom calls as she reaches us, immediately pulling me into a hug that smells like flowers and that fancy fabric softener she special-orders from France.
She steps back to look at me, her hands still on my shoulders.
“How was the drive? Did you find it okay? I told your father we should’ve sent better directions. ”
“It was fine, Mom,” I say. “Connor drove.”
My mother’s attention shifts instantly to the man standing beside me, and I watch her eyes widen as she takes him in.
Connor, with his dark hair, a shadow of stubble, and the tattoos covering his arms, looks like the kind of man my mother would politely cross the street to avoid—and exactly the kind she secretly reads about in those dog-eared grocery-store romances she insists are “just something easy.”
“You must be Connor,” she says, already leaning in to hug him too. Connor accepts it with surprising ease, a hint of amusement flickering across his face. “Noah told us absolutely nothing about you, which is just like him—keeping all the good things to himself.”
My face burns. “Mom—”
“It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Caldwell,” Connor says, his accent making my mother’s smile widen even more.
“Please, it’s Caroline,” she insists. “Mrs. Caldwell makes me feel ancient.”
Maya steps forward, looking Connor up and down with open curiosity before holding out her hand. “Maya,” she says simply. “The better-looking sibling.”
Connor smiles. “I’ve heard many nice things about you.”
“All lies,” Maya replies with a wide grin.
“Oh, Connor, that accent,” my mother gushes. “Are you Irish?”
“Yes,” Connor says. “I’m from Kilmore Quay. It’s a small fishing village in the southeast.”
“That sounds absolutely charming,” Mom says, shooting me a quick, meaningful look that promises a conversation later. “What do you do, Connor? Noah mentioned you but wouldn’t tell us anything.”
“I’m a doctor at St. Vincent’s Hospital,” Connor replies.
“A doctor!” Mom looks at me with so much approval I want to sink into the ground. “Noah, you’ve been holding out on us.”
“Mom,” I say through gritted teeth. “Can we maybe get inside before you interrogate him?”
“Of course, of course,” she says, waving a hand. “Your room’s all ready. You two must be tired after the drive.”
Connor bends to pick up our bags again, balancing both in one hand. As he straightens, his free hand settles briefly at the small of my back. It’s a subtle gesture—casual, almost unconscious—but I stiffen anyway and step away a little too quickly, heat creeping up my neck for no good reason.
“The place looks great,” I blurt out, avoiding his gaze. “Has everyone else arrived?”
“Not yet,” Mom says, her eyes moving between us with barely contained excitement, oblivious to the moment that just passed between us. “The Scotts should be here by dinner—Brad called this morning to confirm.”
With that, Mom loops her arm through mine, tugging me away from Connor toward the cottages, clearly gearing up to gossip. I catch the mischievous glint in her eye and my stomach drops.
Three steps. That’s how long she waits before loudly whispering, “He’s gorgeous,” not actually trying to be quiet. “And a doctor? Noah, why didn’t you tell us about him sooner?”
“Mom,” I hiss, glancing back at Connor, who’s trailing behind us with both our bags. His face gives nothing away, but I’d bet my last dollar he can hear every word. “Please, not now.”
“What?” She squeezes my arm. “I’m just excited for you.”
Maya falls into step beside Connor, already asking him something about his tattoos. Perfect. At least he’s distracted, so he won’t hear Mom embarrassing me.
“We put you two in the East Cottage,” Mom says, gesturing toward the smallest of the three houses. “It’s the coziest one, right on the water. Your dad and I are in the Main Cottage with Maya, and Brad and Maria will be in the West Cottage.”
I glance at her. “Just Brad and Maria?” I ask carefully. “Isn’t Rick coming?”
“He is, sweetheart,” Mom says. “But Rick’s bringing his girlfriend, Cassidy, so they’ll be in the East Cottage with you and Connor. We thought it was best if you honeymooners had some privacy.” She winks.
For a second, I’m not sure I heard her correctly.
“With Connor and me?” I say. My mouth has gone dry. “Mom, I don’t want to stay in the same cottage as Rick and Cassidy.”
It comes out sharper than I intend.
She looks genuinely puzzled. “Why not? You’ve known Rick forever. And you know Cassidy. She’s a nice girl.”
“That’s not the point,” I say. That is aggressively not the point. “Can’t Rick and Cassidy stay with Brad and Maria instead?” I ask, trying to sound reasonable and not like I’m on the verge of passing out.
“No, sweetie.” She squeezes my arm. “It would be rude to separate everyone by family. And besides, I don’t think any of us parents need to hear our children having sex.”
“Mom!” I blurt, horrified.
“What?” she says, completely unfazed. “We’re all adults here, Noah. There’s no need for theatrics.”
We reach the porch of the Main Cottage, and up close it’s even more beautiful than it looked from the driveway. The wood is weathered to a soft silvery-blue that almost blends into the landscape. Wide windows face the lake, and I can already tell the view from inside must be spectacular.
“I’ll go find your father,” Mom says. “Maya, sweetie, why don’t you show the boys to their room?”
The way she says their room—with that tiny emphasis—makes me want to crawl under the porch. There’s so much hope in her voice, so much barely contained excitement that I’ve finally brought someone home, like Connor and I are already planning matching Christmas stockings and kids.