Chapter 1

On the second of January, I got drunk at my professor, Richard Foster's, house.

Not a little drunk either. I was slurring and saying whatever came into my head.

"Mrs. Foster!" I raised my glass and wobbled to my feet. "Let me tell you something. If I ever get married, it's going to be to a guy like Professor Foster. He knows his field, he takes care of his family, and he treats his wife like a queen."

Richard was sitting across from me, and he nearly dropped his fork.

Richard's wife, Linda, was doubled over laughing.

"Emily, Richard is taken," Linda said, wiping her eyes. "He does have a son, though. You might want to think about that."

"A son?" I squinted at Richard. "You have a son? What's he like? Does he look like you?"

Richard cleared his throat. "Emily, you've had too much to drink."

"He is," Linda said, faster than anyone. "He's better looking than his father was at that age. Thirty-one, never married, no girlfriend, and he has everything going for him."

I slammed my hand on the table. "Then what are we waiting for?"

Everyone at the table laughed.

After that, I had no idea how much more nonsense I spouted.

All I remembered was being half awake while someone helped me into the guest room, took my coat off, and set a glass of water by the bed.

The hand was steady, with long, elegant fingers.

I held on to that hand and mumbled, "You're so much better than my ex. A hundred times better."

And then I blacked out.

The next morning, I woke up with a pounding headache, like I'd been run over by a truck.

I struggled to sit up and looked around, trying to make sense of the unfamiliar room.

It was the guest room at Richard's house.

I spotted a glass of warm water and a couple of painkillers sitting on the nightstand.

I downed the water, popped the pills, and grabbed my phone.

Daniel Reed had sent three messages.

Daniel: [Emily, happy New Year.]

Daniel: [I heard you're at Richard's place. I'm coming by tomorrow too.]

Daniel: [Sophia is coming with me. I hope that's okay.]

I stared at the last message for a few seconds.

Sophia Bennett was his new girlfriend.

We had been broken up for less than three months, and he was about to walk into my professor's house with his new girlfriend for the holidays.

Daniel was one of Richard's students too, a year ahead of me. After his master's, he went to work for Sophia's father.

We met in the research group, dated for two years, and then it ended.

The reason was simple. Her family had money and mine didn't.

I tossed my phone onto the bed and headed out.

At the end of the hallway, the bathroom door was slightly ajar.

I nudged the door open.

There was a guy at the sink.

He was shirtless, with a trim waist and clean lines of muscle down his back.

He caught my eye in the mirror.

I met his gaze in the mirror.

I slammed the door shut and backed out, pressing my back against the wall.

Who was that? Why was there a strange man in Richard's house?

The door opened from the inside.

He had pulled on a gray hoodie, his hair was still damp, and his face was so flat it looked like the whole world owed him money.

"All yours," he said.

His voice was low and cold.

I opened my mouth. "Who are you?"

He stopped and glanced at me.

There was nothing in that look at all.

"I live here," he said.

And then he walked off.

I stood there while my brain worked on it. He lived here? At Richard's house?

"Emily, you're up!" Linda called from the kitchen. "Come have breakfast."

I hurried over and lowered my voice. "Linda, that man in the hallway. Who is he?"

"That's Michael, my son," Linda said with a smile. "He got in late last night, and you were already asleep."

My hand froze mid-air.

That was the son Linda had told me to think about the night before.

Had I really grabbed his hand and said something?

I was finished.

It was the most complete social death I could imagine.

At the dining table, there were four of us.

Richard was on his phone, Linda was serving oatmeal, and Michael sat straight across from me.

He handled his fork like he'd been raised on manners, ate without a sound, and never once looked at me.

I didn't look at him either.

No way.

"Michael, you were the one who got Emily back to her room last night, weren't you?" Linda said, sounding casual about it.

I nearly dropped my spoon into my bowl.

Michael gave a short "yeah."

Linda kept going. "Emily, you were so drunk that you held on to Michael's hand and wouldn't let go."

"Mom," Michael finally spoke up, his voice low but it was enough to stop her.

Linda stopped, and she was still grinning.

I wished I could disappear into my bowl.