WHAT’S MY NAME?
Why can’t I remember what my fucking name is?
Ian Hawkins is standing beside me looking like Darth freaking Vader, with his hand outstretched ready to meet me for the first time, and I cannot remember what my goddamn name is. Nate’s hand squeezes my knee, it should be a comfort, but it’s reminding me that I’m not speaking when I should be.
“This is Anastasia Allen, my girlfriend. Stas, this is my Dad, Ian Hawkins,” Nate says calmly, moving his hand to thread it through mine.
Nate’s dad looks like how I imagine Nate is going to look in thirty years. He’s tall, sharp jawed with dark brown hair and big brown eyes. If he wasn’t my new nemesis I might even admit that he’s very handsome, but fuck that.
“Mr. Hawkins, it’s nice to finally meet you,” I manage to force out through the world’s fakest smile, shaking his hand like we’re politicians or something. He takes his seat directly in front of me and I can’t wait to spend this lunch making awkward eye contact with him.
Although right now, he’s more bothered about Sasha’s outfit.
“You didn’t want to get changed out of your plane clothes?” You can’t tell that he’s traveled for fifteen hours; his clothes are immaculate, hair perfectly in place. But with that one sentence, that one sneer in his teenage daughter’s direction, I know everything I need to know about Ian Hawkins.
Her posture changes, she withdraws, her chin lowers. I can’t watch this. “You look comfortable, Sasha. I wish I’d put my sweatpants on too,” I say as cheerfully as I can.
It’s enough to capture his attention again, his eyes meet mine and I don’t look away, as much as I might want to. I feel like I just invited him in, his criticisms, his judgment. I can see him sizing me up, it’s clear in the way his eyes break from mine to scan my face, lowering to look at what I’m wearing. His mouth creeps up. “Tell me about yourself, Anastasia.”
“What would you like to know, Mr. Hawkins?”
“Ian is fine, there’s no need for formality. Judging by the way my son is cutting off the circulation to your fingers, I would speculate that he’s quite attached to you,” he says with a humorless chuckle. “How about we start with where you’re from?”
“Seattle, Washington originally. I’ve lived in Maple Hills for school for the last few years.”
The drinks appear at the table, staff working efficiently and silently in the presence of their boss. Nate doesn’t look away from his dad, scared to take his eyes off him, I think, but mutters a “Thank you,” reaching for his Sprite with the hand that isn’t crushing mine.
“You’re welcome, Nate,” a sickly sweet voice says. We both look up at the same time, finding a beautiful blond woman placing a vase of water in front of Ian.
If I had to guess I’d say she was our age, pretty green eyes and a dazzling smile. She’s looking at him with a familiarity, a something that makes my skin itch. An uncomfortable feeling settles in my stomach, and it whips my breath away when I realize that the feeling is jealousy. “I didn’t know you were in town,” she continues, completely ignoring my existence. “You should have said.”
His fingers loosen and my heart sinks as he lets go of my hand, but instead he reaches toward me and tucks hair behind my ear, hand settling on the back of my chair with his finger tickling my shoulder. “You asked for no ice, didn’t you?” he asks, nodding toward the drink someone put down in front of me.
I focus on the ice cubes floating and the condensation running down the side of the glass, instead of the woman Nathan has clearly had sex with at some point.
I need to stop, this is unnecessary. I don’t feel like this when we’re back in Maple Hills. Who he’s had in his bed doesn’t bother me there, but here, in front of his dad and sister, I feel the poker hot envy creeping through my body. “What? Uh, yeah, it doesn’t matter, though.”
He picks up the drink and offers it to the girl. “She didn’t want ice.” His tone is sharp, far sharper than I’ve ever heard him be, and it feels weird to see him be so curt.
The girl looks taken aback as she accepts the glass from his hand, still not looking at me, but managing to look at Sasha, who’s trying to hide her laugh behind her hand. Too much time passes without anyone talking.
“That’s all, Ashley,” Ian drawls, bored of this weird little situation going on. “Get Anastasia an iceless drink as she requested, and let Mark know we’re ready to order food.”
His harsh tone snaps her out of her daydream. “Yes, sir.”
“And Ashley?”
“Yes, Mr. Hawkins?” she responds quickly, spinning back around to face him.
“Anastasia is part of this family and a guest. I’m going to pretend that you gave her the courtesy of actually looking at her and apologizing for the mistake, as you would with any other customer. Don’t let it happen again or you’ll find yourself starting the new year looking for a new job.”
It’s taking every muscle in my head to keep my jaw from hitting the floor. Nathan shuffles in his seat, reclaiming my hand with his. Ian pours himself a glass of water and takes a sip. “Where were we? School. What do you study?”
I tell him how I’m a junior studying business management, how I’m an only child, how I’m already twenty-one because I started school a year later after my adoption when I was five, and to his credit, he nods in the right places and asks follow-up questions.
My new drink arrives, Nate and Sasha sit quietly, probably grateful the attention isn’t on them. I get a small moment of reprieve when our food orders are taken. Nate leans in, pressing his lips to my temple.
“What are you getting?” He lowers his voice to a whisper. “I’m so proud of you, baby. You’re doing so well.”
I don’t get a chance to answer him, because Sasha tries to order a chicken burger and fries and her dad says no. “She’ll have the chicken and cashew salad, dressing on the side.”
“But Dad, I wa—”
“No, Sasha.”
I hate this and every critical thought I’ve ever had about my parents weighs on me, crushing me with guilt, because my parents have never made me feel as shit as I do just watching him interact with Sasha. The words come spilling out of my mouth before I can stop them. “The world isn’t going to end if she eats a burger.”
For the first time since we sat here, I see a flicker of emotion on his permanently indifferent face. His eyebrow creeps up and his lips purse, and suddenly, he looks nothing like Nathan. He doesn’t have Nathan’s soft eyes or the cheeky grin that accompanies his eyebrow when it rises in surprise.
“Not that it’s anything to do with you, but Sasha has a competition coming up. She needs to stick to her meal plan.”
“So do I, but one burger isn’t going to derail her career. If she wants a burger, she should get one. I’m getting the burger,” I snap back.
I don’t know why I’m doing this, why I’m purposely riling up a man I want to like me, even if I don’t like him. I can’t help it. I want to protect her from all the thoughts that will plague her when it comes to eating, long after he stops choosing her meals.
I don’t even want the freaking burger. I was going to order the salad.
Nate’s hand squeezes my knee, a sign of alliance. “Can we get three chicken burgers please, Mark. No salad needed.”
Mark looks to Ian, who places his menu back on the table and gives a small nod of approval. When Mark heads back toward the kitchen, loudly blowing out a sigh of relief, I immediately feel the weight of what I just did. Sasha is looking at her drink, teeth nibbling the skin at the side of her thumb.
“I don’t appreciate your insolence in front of my staff,” Ian says flatly.
“Dad—” Nathan interjects.
“I’m talking to both of you,” he gruffs. “You might have enjoyed your time here pretending to be in charge, but while you’re eating in my restaurant and sleeping under my roof, you’ll show me some respect.”
Nate’s body stiffens and I feel the tension brewing, but before it can progress Sasha speaks. “You’re a figure skater, right? That’s your sport, Stassie?”
And that’s enough to capture Ian’s attention, so we start the dance all over again.
NATHAN’S BEDROOM feels like the only safe place in the house right now.
Lunch could have been worse, I suppose, but it definitely could have been better. Nathan thinks it went well, which to me is weird and makes me seriously consider how bad things can get if this is an example of things being good.
Tonight there is a huge New Year’s Eve party being thrown by Nate’s dad, which the resort does every year for the guests who spend the holidays there, and our presence is expected.
As Nate snoozes against my stomach, I can’t help my mind wandering to Mila Hawkins, Nate and Sasha’s mom. How wonderful must she have been to produce kids like them, with a husband like that?
I remember weeks and weeks ago—before I realized how I had absolutely no chance to do anything but fall head over heels in love with this man—he told me he’s the way his mom raised him. All in with his whole heart and head. Nate says she would have loved me—Brin, too—because she loved a strong-headed and determined woman.
That’s how she was raising Sasha before she passed away. I can see the flickers of it in her when her dad isn’t around, and I wish there were a way I could take Sash back to LA with us.
“Your thoughts are very loud sometimes,” Nate grumbles from his spot on my stomach. He looks up, eyes sleepy and cheeks pink. “What’re you thinking about?”
“The party,” I lie.
“We’re not going. It’s pretentious and you’ll hate it,” he says, peppering kisses around my belly button. “This room has the best view of the fireworks anyway.”
“Your girlfriend will probably spit in my drink too.”
He sighs heavily, resting his head against my skin before looking back up at me with a sad expression. “I wish there wasn’t anyone before you, but I can’t change the past. I can promise you there will be no one after you. She was never my girlfriend, though. We were kids. We went to high school together, hooked up sometimes when I came home for the holidays.”
“I’m kidding, I swear. I’m sorry, I don’t know why I feel jealous. I swear I don’t feel like this normally and I don’t care what you did before me, I promise I don’t. I don’t even think it’s about sex, I think it’s because she fits into the version of you that exists here. The one who wears snow boots and plays hockey on the lake in his backyard. You’re so relaxed here and I caused the most stressful situation ever and I jus—”
“Anastasia,” he says softly, interrupting my rambling. “I’m relaxed because you’re here. This is the first time in years I’ve enjoyed being here, and that’s solely because you are here with me. There isn’t a version of me that is better without you by my side.”
“I was thinking about your parents,” I admit reluctantly. “How good your mom must have been for you to be the way you are.”
He wiggles up my body until we’re face to face and nuzzles my nose with his. “She was the best. I’m nothing like him, Stas. I swear I’ll be so good to you. You’ll never have to worry.” The seriousness in his face pulls at my heart, and the idea that Nathan could ever be put in the same league as his dad is absurd.
“I know, Nate. I promise you that I know, and I don’t doubt you for even a second. I’m very lucky and I don’t take that for granted.”
His mouth meets mine, soft at first, then more intense, more urgent as I sink my fingers into his hair and let him nestle his body between my legs. Love is pouring out of him, every touch soft and caring, every look and motion specifically designed for me, for us. And when he sinks into me, making me writhe beneath him, he whispers how much he loves me into my ear, how perfect I am for him, how he’s the lucky one.
I lose count of how many times my body squeezes tight around his, how many times I bury my face into his chest, his neck, his pillow, how many times I have to stop myself from screaming his name. His fingers are deep in the flesh of my hips, guiding me as he buries himself so deep inside of me, I can feel him in my bones. His chest heaves, stomach flexes, pulse hammers against my lips on his throat.
And when he spills himself into me, he clings to me so tight that I’m not sure how we’re ever expected to be two separate people ever again.
