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Claire spent the whole day with Noah’s family. By the time they walked back toward the apartment building, the sun was beginning to set.

Noah casually asked, “Did you ever get groceries?”

Claire stopped. “No.”

He laughed. “I didn’t think so.”

She shook her head. “I completely forgot.”

“I figured.”

Emily laughed. “We’ll stop before we head home.”

Claire immediately protested. “Oh, no, you guys don’t have to—”

Before she could finish, Noah was already turning toward the grocery store. “Come on.”

She sighed dramatically. “You’re impossible.”

He grinned. “I’ve heard that before.”

“Can we get cookies?” Ainsley chimed in.

Noah looked at Claire. “Cookies?”

Claire smiled. “How about we make cookies?”

Somewhere between lunch, Ainsley’s endless stories, and the grocery store, Claire realized she had stopped feeling like a guest.

She watched how effortlessly Noah fit in with his family and how they loved and teased each other. It wasn’t performative, it was real. Their affection was easy and unforced.

She also realized that Noah was not just obnoxiously kind and thoughtful with her, but he really was like that with everyone. She had never met someone as kind, patient, caring, and thoughtful as him.

Ainsley was obsessed with her Uncle Noah, and he never once told her to get down or get off. He let her climb all over him and talk his ear off. He gave her a piggyback ride the majority of the day.

Noah held every door without seeming to notice he was doing it. He paid for lunch before anyone could argue, listened patiently while Ainsley told a story that took ten minutes longer than necessary, and stopped to help an older man retrieve a dropped bag without breaking the conversation.

Noah genuinely cared about people. Not because anyone expected him to. Not because he wanted praise. He simply noticed what people needed and stepped in.

Claire was starting to realize she cared about him too. A lot more than she was willing to admit. Which did not automatically mean anything romantic.

It only meant she liked having him around.

A lot.

Which was probably normal.

At least that’s what she told herself.

She watched him lift Ainsley onto his shoulders again as they left the grocery store, one hand carrying bags and the other steadying her legs. Emily said something that made him laugh. Mrs. Carter reached over and squeezed his arm.

For one brief second, Claire could picture herself in the middle of all of it. Not visiting. Belonging. The thought should have terrified her. Instead, it felt warm.

She had spent years convincing herself she could do everything alone. She was starting to consider the possibility that maybe she didn’t want to.

CHAPTER 10

His Claire