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. “Iwhat?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 groundmyself. 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.
