Page 40 of Even Exchange

goodbye!

STELLA

have fun with mama caruso!

ANDI

have more fun with daddy noah

I slap the phone on my lap to avoid combusting with embarrassment just as Noah pulls into a driveway covered with round pool floats, a canoe, coolers, and other supplies that make no logical sense to me.

He puts the truck in park, and my eyes wander over the rest of the two-story, powder-blue house. There’s a white wraparound porch and a rocking chair swaying in the wind. Honeysuckle bushes line the walkway on both sides, and a sign that says “Love Grows Here”sticks out of the grass.

It’s quaint and perfect and lovely, and everything my life is not.

“Hey,” Noah says softly, looking over at me.

“Yes?”

“Why do you look all stressed?” He narrows his eyes. Guess I wasn’t displaying as much “chill” energy as I thought.

“I’m not stressed,” I say in a high-pitched voice, completely giving myself away.

“Are you nervous to meet my mom?” he asks, the corner of his lip quirking in a teasing grin.How the hell?

“What?” I scoff. “No. I have no reason to be nervous.”

Keep telling yourself that, Char.

Noah rests his arm on the back of my seat, and my shoulder tingles. “You’re gonna love her.”

“Of course I am,” I say, trying to shake away the nerves from this bizarre situation.

We hop out of the truck and walk toward the front steps. As we reach them, the door swings open, and a woman with kind eyes steps barefoot on the porch. She’s clad in jeans and a white T-shirt, her brown hair twisted up in a bun. A colorful apron dancing with lemons is tied around her with an assumedly Italian saying I can’t quite decipher.

Noah was right. I love her.

“Welcome!” the woman says to us, throwing her arms around Noah and kissing him on both cheeks. “Ciao, sole mio.”

“Ciao, mamma,”he tells her.

She pulls away, turning her attention to me, and tugs me in for a tight hug like she’s known me for years. The gesture is unexpected and makes me laugh. “Sorry.” She releases me, hands still on my shoulders. “I’ve just heard so much about you,” she says in a beautiful Italian accent, her words wrapping around me.She has?“Feels like I know you.”

“It’s okay,” I say, side-eyeing Noah, then returning my gaze to her.

“I’m Noah’s mom, Luna.”

“Hi, Luna.” I wave, a handshake feeling unnecessary after the hug. “I’m Charlie.”

“Oh, we know all about you, Ms.Charlotte,” she replies, and my cheeks warm. “Please.” She gestures us inside, and we follow her through the door.

A familiar aroma floods my senses, and my mouth waters. “It smellsheavenlyin here.”

“There’s cinnamon walnut cookies in the oven.” Luna smiles proudly, and I share a look with Noah.

Cinnamon is my favorite baking spice.

We follow Luna to the kitchen, truly the masterpiece of the house. There’s a spacious island, flour sprinkled across it, along with other ingredients set to the side and a used mixing bowl. A massive gas stovetop with a double oven beneath it has my full attention.

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