Page 61 of Even Exchange

“Well, not the cup, but my mom and I took a glaze and sip class to paint them,” I tell her as memories of the day come to mind.Mammasaw the flyer when we were at a morning market and insisted we go.Saying no to her is impossible.

“This ishand-painted?” she gasps. “By the famous NFL quarterback Noah Caruso?”

The tips of my ears burn. “Are you really so surprised?”

“No.” She side-eyes me teasingly. “I’m sorry, it’s just so beautiful.”

I take it from her, looking down at the design that took me ages, rubbing my thumb over the little citrus. “Fun fact: Sicily’s nickname is the Lemon Riviera because of how important lemons are in the culture and cuisine.”

“I can’t even imagine the quantity of lemons they go through.”

“It’s a lot,” I tell her, setting the cup down on the counter and leaning against it to enjoy her in my space. “A lot of people have their own trees. Mynonnadoes.”

“Are they hard to keep alive?” she asks, scrunching her cute nose. “I’m not great with plants.”

“It takes time, but with the right care they grow into a strong tree, basically making lemons forever.”

“Powerful little things,” she says.

“Definitely. Mynonna’sgrows so many, we’re all but forced to havesomethinglemon every day.”

“Mmm,” she moans, and I can’t decide whether to imprint the sound in my memory or erase it. “The food there must be unmatched.”

“It is.” My mouth waters at the thought. “We’ll have to go sometime.”

She smiles at me softly. “Too bad our summer is booked.”

“Yeah.” I press my lips together, daydreams of tanning on the Mondello beach with Charlotte fading away. “Are you looking forward to Camp Dickson next week?”

Her nose scrunches up. “Kinda.”

“I thought you loved it last year?”

She turns to face me with narrowed eyes. “We weren’t even friends last year. How would you know?”

“I’ve always noticed you,” I admit, stomach swirling. “You were constantly laughing with the girls.”

“Yeah.” She smiles sadly. “It was nice to be able to let loose.”

“Then why aren’t you happy to go this year?”

She blows out a heavy breath. “Noah.”

“Charlotte.” I raise my brows while keeping my expression neutral. Her concern is, well, concerning.

“I really don’t want to talk about it,” she says, picking up the lemon cappuccino cup.

I place my hand on the cabinet door and gently close it to steal her focus. “Please?”

Her frustrated gaze slides to mine. “Jonathan’s going to be there with his team.”

My skin flushes hot. “I forgot about that.”

The light in Charlotte’s eyes dims, and she turns her attention to the cup in her hand. “I didn’t.”

She lifts it toward the cabinet and slams it against the closed door, causing it to fall and shatter against the counter. My muscles seize.

“Shit,” she says, freezing in place.

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