Page 141 of Even Exchange

I shift on my heels. “No.”

“Good,” she says, tapping my cheek and pulling away. “How is Ms. Charlotte doing?”

“She’s okay,” I say, thinking of her current manic obsession of reading every parenting book ever written. “I’m hoping she’ll feel more relaxed after the first appointment.”

“Well, we’re here for you,” Mom says, rubbing my back. “Both of you.”

“Grazie, mamma.”

“Ma figurati, sole mio.”?9

* * *

Unlocking the front door, I’m greeted by the overwhelming scent of citrus and sounds of banging and clanking. As I close it behind me, a smile spreads across my face.

“Hey,soffione,” I say, walking toward the kitchen to the sight of Charlotte over the stove. Bare feet, hair clipped back with a bow, and cute little sundress on. A plate of homemade cannoli resides on the kitchen island, and my mouth waters. A soft feeling warms my chest.I could get used to this.“Elijah and Sophia on the way yet?”

She looks up, smiling wide as she stirs something in a pot. “They’ll be here in twenty.”

Charlotte suggested we invite them over for dinner, and I wasn’t going to say no to the moral support. At first I was pissed Theo bombed the news in the group chat, but I’m honestly glad everything’s out in the open.

She looks at me, lips puckered, and I hurry to her, planting a firm kiss.I could definitely get used to this.“Smells incredible in here,” I say, turning back to the stove, noting a cream sauce in a large pan. A massive bag of lemons sits beside her, yellow wedges scattered on a cutting board.

“Thanks.” She beams, grabbing a tiny spoon. “I hope you’ll like it.”

She dips it in the sauce and blows on it before presenting it to me. Grinning, I open my mouth and lick the spoon clean. My taste buds dance with enjoyment, and I groan in approval. “Delicious.”

“Thank you.” She sets down the spoon and turns on another burner with a pot of water atop it. “And I have a surprise for you.”

“Really?”

“Mhm.” She walks to the drying rack, dishes clinking as she retrieves something, and she turns to me, hiding it behind her back. “I still feelsoawful about destroying your favorite cup,” she says, and my heart twists.

“It was a nice memory. But it wasjusta cup.”

“A very cute cup,” she pouts, and I fight the urge to tug her to my chest as she continues her surprise. She brings her arms around, handing me a blue mug inscribed with #1 Dad.

My eyes well with tears.Fuck.

Bringing a hand to my face, I rub my fingers against my eyes.

“You don’t like it?” she asks hesitantly.

Removing my hand, I look down at her, setting the cup on the counter. Finally, I give into the urge and tug her to me. I blink a few times to clear the moisture and take a deep breath. “It’s perfect. Thank you so much.”

“It’s not hand-painted lemons,” she says, nuzzling her head to me. “But I thought you’d like this one.”

Pulling away, I take her face in my hands and tilt her gaze to mine. “Iloveit.”

Charlotte kisses me softly and steps away, returning to the stove. She removes spaghetti from a package, and I lean against the counter, admiring her inourkitchen. Collecting the noodles together, she—Italia, perdonala.

Italy, forgive her.

The air is frozen in my lungs at the sight of the broken pasta in her hands.

“What’s wrong with you?” she asks, my jaw hanging open as she places the evidence in the water.

“You didnotbreak spaghetti.” I balk.

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