“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 thelandscape. 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 saystheir 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.
If she only knew.
“Got it,” Maya says. “Come on, lovebirds. Follow me.”
Mom gives us one last look—practically glowing with excitement—before disappearing inside the house.
“This place is incredible,” Connor says quietly, falling into step beside me as we follow Maya toward the smallest of the three cottages.
“Yeah,” I say. “Dad goes all out for birthdays.”
“There are cooks here too,” Maya says, glancing back at us over her shoulder. “They stay in a separate building.”
I widen my eyes at Connor in exaggerated apology. He snorts softly and gives me a crooked little smile, clearly enjoying all of this far more than he should.
My stomach does an unwanted little flip. God, my mom’s right—heisfucking handsome. Which is definitely not something I should be thinking about right now. Or ever.
I’m still smiling at him when he suddenly reaches down and takes my hand.
I flinch at the contact, but this time I don’t pull away.
His fingers slide between mine, warm and calloused. He tilts his head slightly, giving me a questioning look, and mouths,Is this okay?
I nod, my cheeks burning as I try to act normal, even though every inch of skin where he’s touching me suddenly feels too aware of itself.
Jesus, apparently I’m more touch-starved than I thought.
The East Cottage is just as beautiful inside as it is outside. The first floor is one open space, with a small kitchen area, a dining table, and a living room with comfortable-looking couches arranged around a stone fireplace. The walls are white, which makes the whole place feel airy and bright, and the floors are wide pine planks worn smooth with age.
Connor lets out a low whistle.
“Too much?” I ask.
“No,” he says. “Just trying to figure out how many forks I’m expected to use at dinner.”
That makes me grin.
