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At some point, it had stopped being his cart or her cart.

Claire looked at him, confusion written all over her face. “You don’t drink oat milk.”

Noah glanced into the cart. “No.”

“You grabbed oat milk.”

“I did.”

“You don’t even like oat milk.”

“No.” He looked at her like she was asking an obvious question. “But you do. We’re almost out.”

Claire didn’t even know that. But of course Noah did.

“We?”

“Yeah.” He shrugged. “We’re almost out. So I’m getting oat milk. For your coffee.”

Since when did they have joint custody of her oat milk?

A few aisles later, Claire spotted the chips she and Noah both loved: Siete chips. Without breaking stride, she grabbed two bags, her favorite flavor and his, and dropped them into the cart.

Noah glanced over. “You got my chips.”

She blinked. “. . .I did.”

They looked at each other. Then at the cart. Oat milk. Siete chips. Coffee.

Neither of them had talked about it. Somehow, somewhere along the way they’d stopped shopping for themselves and started shopping for each other.

A full cart later, they headed to the checkout. The cashier grinned at them. “How long have you guys been married?” she asked them.

Claire froze. “We’re not married,” she said, at the same time Noah said, “We aren’t married yet,” with a huge smile on his face.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, I don’t know why I assumed that. You just seem like you’ve been together forever!” The cashier, whose name tag read Sarah, looked embarrassed.

“It’s okay, really,” Noah told her.

Claire slowly turned toward him. “. . .Yet?” she asked with a raised eyebrow as they walked out of the store.

“Yet.”

That was all he said.

Her stomach flipped.

Apparently, Noah had reached the casually-joking-about-marriage stage of their relationship before she had even adjusted to calling him her boyfriend.

Claire walked into Noah’s apartment carrying bags. She didn’t have to ask where anything went. She already knew.

“Hey, princess.” Noah glanced at the six-pound container of coffee grounds she was putting away. “Did we need to buy the biggest thing of coffee grounds in the store?”

She shrugged. “It seemed more efficient than buying a small bag every week.”

“Probably. How long is that going to last us?”

“Not as long as it probably should,” she admitted. “In the very wise words of Lorelai Gilmore, ‘I need coffee in an IV.’”