Noah
I didn't hear Aria come in. I was too focused on the spreadsheet in front of me, the numbers blurring together as I tried to make sense of the shared custody schedule for next month. Someone had a work trip. Someone else had a conference.
Mila's recital conflicted with Leo's soccer tournament, and I was the one who had to figure out how to make it all work.
I was always the one who had to figure it out.
I looked up to find Aria standing in the doorway of my home office, her hair pulled back in a messy bun, wearing one of my old t-shirts that hung to her thighs. She looked soft and warm and concerned.
"Hey," I said, forcing a smile.
"I didn't know you were still here."
"The twins fell asleep during the movie." She stepped into the room, her bare feet silent on the hardwood.
"I was going to head out, but then I saw your light on.”
“Just catching up on some work." I gestured at the mess of papers and sticky notes covering my desk.
"Trying to coordinate everyone's schedules for December."
She moved closer, her eyes scanning the chaos.
"It's almost midnight, Noah."
"Is it?" I glanced at my watch and realised she was right. I'd been at this for three hours. "Shit. I lost track of time."
"When's the last time you ate?"
I tried to remember. Breakfast? Maybe lunch? "I'm fine."
"That's not what I asked." She came around the desk and gently closed my laptop. "Come on. Let me make you something."
"Aria, you don't have to—“
"I know I don't have to." Her hand settled on my shoulder, warm and grounding. "But I want to. Let me take care of you for once."
Something in my chest cracked at those words. Let me take care of you. When was the last time someone had said that to me? When was the last time I'd let them?
I was the organiser. The planner. The one who held everything together.
The Dad Club had been my idea, my solution to the chaos of single fatherhood. I coordinated the schedules, managed the finances, made sure everyone was where they needed to be. I was the strong one.
But sitting there with Aria's hand on my shoulder, I realised how fucking tired I was.
"Okay," I said quietly.
She smiled and took my hand, pulling me to my feet. "Come on."
I followed her to the kitchen, watching as she moved through my space with easy familiarity.
She'd been here so many times now, with the kids and without them, that she knew where everything was. She pulled out bread and cheese, butter and tomatoes, and started making grilled cheese sandwiches like it was the most natural thing in the world.
"Sit," she ordered, pointing at one of the bar stools.
I sat.
She worked in comfortable silence, and I found myself just watching her.
The way she moved. The way she hummed softly under her breath. The way she looked in my kitchen, in my shirt, making me food at midnight because she was worried about me.
"You do too much," she said without looking at me.
"Someone has to.”
"Do they?" She flipped the sandwiches, the butter sizzling in the pan. "Or do you just think they do?"
I didn't have an answer for that.
She plated the food and set it in front of me, then poured two glasses of water. She sat down next to me, her knee brushing mine.
"Eat," she said.
I took a bite. It was perfect—crispy and buttery and exactly what I needed. "Thank you.”
"You're welcome." She watched me eat for a moment, then said, "You know you don't have to be the strong one all the time, right?"
I set the sandwich down. "Yes, I do."
"Why?"
"Because if I'm not, everything falls apart." The words came out harsher than I intended.
"Someone has to keep track of everything. Someone has to make sure the kids get where they need to go, that the bills get paid, that everyone's on the same page. If I don't do it, who will?"
"The other guys—"
"Are doing their best, but they have their own shit to deal with.
" I ran a hand through my hair, feeling the tension coiled in my shoulders.
"Gabriel's working insane hours. Liam's got Mila's dance schedule.
Julian's still processing his divorce. Ethan's trying to keep his business afloat.
And Ronan..." I trailed off, not wanting to get into Ronan's complications.
"And you're trying to hold all of them together," Aria finished softly.
"Someone has to."
She reached out and cupped my face, forcing me to look at her. "Not all the time, Noah. Not with me.”
Something in her eyes—the warmth, the understanding, the complete lack of judgement—made the walls I'd built around myself start to crumble.
"I'm tired," I admitted, the words barely a whisper. "I'm so fucking tired, Aria."
"I know." She stood and moved between my legs, wrapping her arms around me. "I know you are."
I buried my face in her stomach, breathing in the scent of her—vanilla and something uniquely Aria. Her fingers threaded through my hair, gentle and soothing, and I felt something inside me break open.
"You don't have to be strong with me," she murmured. "You can just be Noah.”
I pulled back to look at her, and the tenderness in her expression nearly undid me. "I don't know how to be anything else."
"Then let me show you.”
She kissed me, soft and slow, and it wasn't about sex or desire. It was about comfort. Connection. Being seen.
I stood, lifting her easily, and she wrapped her legs around my waist. I carried her to my bedroom, laying her down on the bed with a gentleness that surprised even me.
"Let me take care of you," she said again, and this time I didn't argue.
She undressed me slowly, her hands reverent as they moved over my body. She kissed my shoulders, my chest, the tension I carried in my neck. She touched me like I was something precious, something worth caring for.
When she finally sank down onto me, it wasn't frantic or desperate. It was slow and deep and achingly intimate. She moved above me, her hands braced on my chest, her eyes locked on mine.
"You're allowed to let go," she whispered.
"I've got you."
And for the first time in longer than I could remember, I did. I let go of the control, the responsibility, the constant need to be the one holding everything together. I let Aria take care of me, let her set the pace, let her give me what I needed instead of the other way around.
When I came, it was with her name on my lips and her hands in mine, and it felt like more than just physical release. It felt like relief.
She collapsed onto my chest, both of us breathing hard, and I wrapped my arms around her, holding her close.
"Thank you," I said into her hair.
"For what?”
"For seeing me. The real me."
She lifted her head, pressing a kiss to my jaw. "I always see you, Noah. All of you.”
I pulled her closer, feeling something shift between us. Something deeper than attraction or lust. Something that felt dangerously close to love.
"Stay," I said. "Not just tonight. Stay."
She smiled against my skin.
"I'm not going anywhere."
And as we lay there in the dark, her body warm against mine, I realised that maybe I didn't have to carry everything alone. Maybe, just maybe, I'd found someone who could help me carry the weight.
Someone who saw past the leader, the organiser, the strong one, and loved the man underneath.