Chapter 22
Twenty-Two
Caroline
The next day, I decided to surprise Noah with lunch.
I’d made sandwiches and a pasta salad, packed them in a little basket with a note that said “don’t judge my mayo-to-tuna ratio.” It was the kind of gesture I’d never done for Richard, and the thought made me giddy and weirdly nervous.
When I got to Massimo’s, it was packed as usual. I scanned for Noah, but he was nowhere behind the counter. The new kid pointed me toward the back, where I found him in a booth with three men in suits.
They didn’t look like coffee wholesalers. They looked like they owned the whole block.
Noah caught my eye and smiled, the same way he did when I walked in anywhere. He excused himself from the table and came over.
“You brought lunch?” he asked, sounding touched.
I nodded, embarrassed suddenly by the basket and the dumb note.
He took my hand, squeezed it, then led me to a small table by the window.
We ate, and he made a show of loving every bite, but I couldn’t stop noticing the way people watched him. Business owners came in, nodded to him. A city councilman dropped by with a handshake and a nervous smile. Even the chess guys in the corner sat up straighter when he walked past.
When I pointed it out, he laughed. “Old neighborhood. People are just used to me.”
I didn’t buy it, not really.
After we ate, he walked me out, stopping to check on every employee, calling most by name. At the door, he turned to me, expression suddenly serious.
“Thank you,” he said. “For the food, for today. It’s not something I ever had before.”
I felt my face flush. “It’s just lunch.”
He shook his head, voice soft. “It’s more than that.”
He kissed my cheek, then went back inside, switching back to boss mode before the door even closed.
I walked home, replaying the lunch and every tiny detail. The way he touched my hand, the way the whole café seemed to orbit around him.
It should have scared me. The power, the attention, the unspoken rules everyone seemed to follow.
But it didn’t.
If anything, it made me want to know him even more.
Whatever secrets he had, I wanted all of them.
And I was starting to hope—maybe, just maybe—he wanted mine too.