“Nonsense,” Caroline replies, waving a hand dismissively. “Look at him—he’s got all those muscles. He needs to eat.” She beams at me with such genuine maternal pride that I can’t help smiling back, even as I feel my belt growing tighter.
“How do pancakes help with muscles?” Noah asks, raising an eyebrow.
“Carbs for energy,” I say before I can stop myself. “You need energy to build muscle.”
Caroline shoots Noah a triumphant look. “See? Connor knows. Doctors understand nutrition.”
Noah rolls his eyes at me, but there’s no real annoyance there. This kind of back-and-forth between him and his mother is clearly routine.
I take another bite, mostly to mess with him, then glance around the room.
The Main Cottage is exactly what you’d expect from a luxury rental—high ceilings with exposed wooden beams, tall windows overlooking the lake, and heavy wooden furniture softened with thick cushions. The long dining table sits in a sunlit alcove, where we’ve been gathered for what Caroline keeps calling “brunch,” even though it’s well past noon.
At the head of the table, Daniel Caldwell glances up from his phone and chuckles, catching the end of our exchange.
“You might want to be careful with my wife, Connor,” he says, eyes bright with amusement. “When we first moved in together, Caroline fed me so much I gained thirty pounds in the first year.”
“It was not thirty pounds,” Caroline protests, swatting his shoulder. “Twenty, at most.”
“Thirty,” Daniel says, perfectly serious. “I had to buy new pants. Twice.”
I can’t help laughing. There’s something instantly easy about Noah’s father. He’s nothing like what I expected.
After reading Noah’s instruction sheet, I looked up his company and pictured someone imposing—the kind of man who builds real-estate empires and terrifies boardrooms for a living. But Daniel Caldwell doesn’t feel intimidating at all. He sits straight and speaks carefully, but there’s an easy humor about him that softens the whole impression. He’s quick to smile, and I notice he has the same warm brown eyes as Noah.
“Connor, dear,” Caroline says, giving me a conspiratorial look, “you eat as much as you want. Don’t listen to them.”
“Thank you, Caroline,” I say, and she beams at me like I’ve just passed some kind of test.
“So, Connor,” Maya says, leaning forward with her elbows on the table, “you live in the apartment across from Noah’s, right? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you when I came over.”
I nod, cutting another piece of pancake and dragging it through the maple syrup. God, these things are addictive.
“Probably because I work shifts at the hospital,” I say. “I’m usually either there or asleep.”
“What kind of doctor are you again?” Daniel asks.
“Internal medicine,” I reply.
“That’s general medicine, right?” Caroline asks. “Not surgery?”
“Right,” I say. “We diagnose and treat adult patients with all kinds of conditions. Anything from pneumonia to heart failure. Mostly hospitalized patients.”
“That must be difficult,” Daniel says, studying me. “Long hours.”
“It can be,” I admit. “But I like the variety.”
Beside me, Noah shifts slightly, his knee pressing against mine under the table. The contact feels deliberate, a quiet little gesture of support while his family fires questions at me.
“How did you two meet?” Maya asks, glancing between us. “I mean, I know you’re neighbors, but how did you go from ‘the guy across the hall’ to dating, if you’re always either working or sleeping?” She gestures vaguely between us.
Noah goes still beside me. I catch his eyes for a split second—just long enough to see panic flash across his face. We agreed to stick to the truth, but we never fully fleshed out this part of the story.
He draws in a breath like he’s about to answer, but I jump in before he can.
“Actually, I sort of had a crush on Noah since we first met,” I say, surprising myself with how naturally it comes out.
Maya’s eyebrows shoot up. For a moment, the whole table just looks at me.
