“It’s not pathetic,” Nate says, his voice kind of broken. “But I’ll never understand how anyone could abandon their child like that.”

“I think it’s easy for some people.” I trace a tiny heart on his chest with my fingertip to distract myself.

“How could it be?”

“I don’t know,” I tell him. “But the scary thing is that sometimes you don’t know who those people are until it’s too late.”

“Callie,” he whispers, so quietly that I almost can’t hear it.

“He tried to get in touch with me a couple of years ago,” I admit. This is yet another thing that I haven’t told anyone, not even my own mother.

“What’d you do?”

“I didn’t do anything.” There’s an unexpected wave of shame that hits me when I admit it; it comes from nowhere, nearly taking my breath away. “I just never called him back.”

“Not even to tell him how much he hurt you?”

I let out a small laugh. “Why would I want him to know that?”

Nate shifts onto his side and slides his hand down until his arm is wrapped around my waist. Even though our bodies aren’t in contact the way they were before, this position seems much more intimate. I can’t hide from him here; his eyes are searching mine.

“I think it’s good to let people know when they’ve hurt you,” he says, and there isn’t a hint of judgment in his tone. “How else do they learn?”

“Why is it my responsibility to get him to be a better person?” I try not to sound as hateful as I feel.

“It’s not,” he replies, a sad smile on his lips. “Maybe I have an idealized view of the world, I don’t know.”

He reaches over and cups my cheek, and I close my eyes as I lean into him. He definitely has an idealized view of the world, but I like that about him, especially since I’m cynical enough for the both of us.

“Nah,” I reply, attempting to tease him. “Not you.”

“Your feelings matter, Callie. You know, I’ve been an asshole in my life…more times than I care to admit. And yeah, I knew then that I was behaving like an asshole, but when I finally found out how it really affected those people—when they told me how badly I’d hurt them—it changed me. And, you know, the ones that I hurt, some of them don’t get the benefit of seeing me become a better person. But it was those people who taught me how to treat the people I love.” He swallows hard when he’s finished speaking, and I can tell that he’s admitted to more than he meant to.

I’m not sure if he said what he said because he wants me to know that he’s made mistakes and he’s learned from them, or because he thinks somehow I can help my father become a better man. Maybe he thinks it’ll help me to vent, or maybe he just said it to say it. But there’s something about the sentiment that touches this disillusioned place inside of me, that makes me feel the faintest glimmer of hope, however fleeting it may be.

Right now, the only thing I want in this world is to kiss him. So that’s exactly what I do.

“WHAT IS this?” Nate asks, lifting my purse into his lap, examining it like it’s some kind of science experiment. He’s perched on the edge of my bed, waiting impatiently for me to finish getting ready so that we can head down to the rehearsal dinner. I keep telling him to go ahead without me, but he refuses. Even though he’s being kind of a pain in my ass right now, I can’t deny that I like having him nearby.

“That’s my purse,” I say, laughing at the confusion on his face.

“It’s bigger than you are, Callie.”

It’s a black leather hobo bag which is a little too big, yes, and admittedly it does have a lot of…well, crap in it.

“It is not,” I tell him.

He opens the clasp and peers inside. “Hello…hello…hello,” he says, each word getting quieter as he imitates an echo.

“You can be a smartass or you can be nosy. You can’t be both at the same time.” I dab some perfume behind my ears and on my wrists before I lean over the dresser to get a good look in the mirror so I can apply my lip gloss.

“How do you find anything in here?”

I shrug. “Sometimes I can’t. I’ve been known to throw things in there and find them months later. I’m a bit of a slob,” I say as I spread a glossy pink across my lips. “It’s one of my flaws.”

Nate nods as he snaps the bag shut, seemingly filing that information away for later. Then he leans back on the bed, his hands splayed out on either side of him, holding him up.

“You should go down, I’m going to be a few more minutes.”

He’s sitting behind me; I can only see him through the reflection in the mirror, but I watch the sly grin that spreads across his lips, and I recognize that look in his eyes. It’s almost predatory; it sends a shiver up my spine. He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

“Why would I leave when I’ve got an excellent view right where I am?” I feel Nate’s fingertips trailing up the back of my leg, underneath the hem of my skirt. It’s a tingling, light feeling that spreads throughout my body. I can’t really put a name to it, but I feel it every time he touches me, every time he looks at me, and I know he hears my breath catch. When he does, he presses his hands to the sides of my legs, turning me until I’m facing him. He stands, sliding his hands up, up, up until they grip my waist, and he lifts me up onto the dresser.

“Nate,” I whisper, just to hear his name.

He starts at my neck, peppering kisses across my skin before he drags his lips down along the neckline of my dress where he plants his lips again and again. His hands are still gripping my waist and he pulls me forward to the end of the dresser, until he’s settled between my legs. His stubble is rough against my skin, and I know it’ll leave red splotches everywhere, but I don’t care, I don’t care as long as he keeps his mouth and his hands on my body. He doesn’t remove my dress, doesn’t so much as slip his hand beneath the fabric. He just ghosts his hand down the valley between my breasts, and it’s like every single inch of me is on fire.

Then he kneels down, bringing my right leg to rest against the dresser and my left to rest over his shoulder. He drags his teeth along the sensitive skin on the inside of my thigh, nipping and kissing his way further up.

“We’re going to be late,” I whisper, and when he opens his eyes, they’re dark and intense, clouded by challenge. I skim my nails along the sides of his head and down the line of his jaw, scratching the stubble there. It’s prickly against my fingers, and Nate sighs as my hands fall away.

“We’ll be late then,” he says, his voice all gravely and low.

“But it’s your brother’s rehearsal dinner.”

He laughs and shakes his head. “Callie, do not talk about my brother right now.”

I run my fingers through his hair again, and when he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, I can tell I’ve made up for my mistake.

“Still,” I whisper, cupping his cheek. “Late.”

“I bet I don’t even need five minutes.” Nate gives me this cocky little grin, and I decide to challenge him, even though I know he’s probably right.

“That’s not something to brag about.”

“I beg to differ,” he says, sliding his finger along the edge of my panties, making me squirm. “In this situation, it says nothing about my stamina and everything about how much I turn you on.”

I know it won’t take five minutes, but I like the determination in his eyes as he bunches my skirt up around my waist. He pushes my panties to the side and I feel his breath on me, right before he takes one long, decisive lick. I let out a sigh and rest my head against the mirror, running my hand through his hair as my breathing speeds up.

“Oh. Nate,” I whisper, and I can feel his smile as his mouth moves against me, sucking and dragging and licking. His other hand creeps up my thigh, and I lace my fingers with his, just wanting to be connected to him in some other way. The pad of his thumb moves in slow circles along the back of my hand, mimicking the torturous movement of his tongue. I grip his hand tighter as I feel that rising tide of pleasure welling up inside of me, and I press on the back of his head so that his mouth is just where I want it, where I need it to be. Just when I’m ready to fall apart, there’s a knock on my door.