Page 52 of Six of Hearts
"Trying to coordinate everyone's schedules for December."
She moved closer, her eyes scanning the chaos.
"It's almost midnight, Noah."
"Is it?" I glanced at my watch and realised she was right. I'd been at this for three hours. "Shit. I lost track of time."
"When's the last time you ate?"
I tried to remember. Breakfast? Maybe lunch? "I'm fine."
"That's not what I asked." She came around the desk and gently closed my laptop. "Come on. Let me make you something."
"Aria, you don't have to—“
"I know I don't have to." Her hand settled on my shoulder, warm and grounding. "But I want to. Let me take care of you for once."
Something in my chest cracked at those words. Let me take care of you. When was the last time someone had said that to me? When was the last time I'd let them?
I was the organiser. The planner. The one who held everything together.
The Dad Club had been my idea, my solution to the chaos of single fatherhood. I coordinated the schedules, managed the finances, made sure everyone was where they needed to be. I was the strong one.
But sitting there with Aria's hand on my shoulder, I realised how fucking tired I was.
"Okay," I said quietly.
She smiled and took my hand, pulling me to my feet. "Come on."
I followed her to the kitchen, watching as she moved through my space with easy familiarity.
She'd been here so many times now, with the kids and without them, that she knew where everything was. She pulled out bread and cheese, butter and tomatoes, and started making grilled cheese sandwiches like it was the most natural thing in the world.
"Sit," she ordered, pointing at one of the bar stools.
I sat.
She worked in comfortable silence, and I found myself just watching her.
The way she moved. The way she hummed softly under her breath. The way she looked in my kitchen, in my shirt, making me food at midnight because she was worried about me.
"You do too much," she said without looking at me.
"Someone has to.”
"Do they?" She flipped the sandwiches, the butter sizzling in the pan. "Or do you just think they do?"
I didn't have an answer for that.
She plated the food and set it in front of me, then poured two glasses of water. She sat down next to me, her knee brushing mine.
"Eat," she said.
I took a bite. It was perfect—crispy and buttery and exactly what I needed. "Thank you.”
"You're welcome." She watched me eat for a moment, then said, "You know you don't have to be the strong one all the time, right?"
I set the sandwich down. "Yes, I do."
