“Andrew is here,” I think, relishing the comfort of Andrew Keegan’s warm embrace.

“I’m sorry your mom isn’t in our world anymore,” he tells me softly, tightening his arms around me as if trying to protect me from my own despair.

Wait. Andrew is here. Andrew Keegan is here. What the hell is he doing in Lancaster? No. What the hell is he doing at the cemetery?

I spin on my heels, my watery eyes meeting his hazel ones. “Are you stalking me?”

He chuckles. “No, I’m not stalking you.”

“Then what are you doing here? Did you just decide to take a stroll through the cemetery and somehow found me?” My right eyebrow shoots up as I give him an inquisitive look.

“Your dad told me where you would be,” he explains, chuckling again. 

“My dad? How? When? Why?” I gasp, stunned.

“I went to your dad’s house, and he told me you would be here visiting your mom,” he clarifies, pointing at my mom’s headstone.

“Why did you go to my dad’s house in the first place? And how did you even know his address?”

“I met Hansel yesterday when he came by the café. I told him about Thanksgiving, and he gave me your father’s address so I could meet you there.” He smiles broadly.

“I thought you didn’t want to spend the holidays with me,” I say, utterly confused by the unexpected turn of events.

“I never said I didn’t want to spend the holidays with you, Emi. I said I didn’t want to bother your family, which is completely different,” he retorts, frowning.

“I thought it was just an excuse,” I mumble, pulling myself out of his arms.

“Why wouldn’t I want to spend time with you?” He closes the distance between us.

“Why would you want to spend time with me?” I take a step back defensively.

He lets out a deep sigh and runs a hand through his hair before mumbling, “We shouldn’t argue here because it’s disrespectful. What if we go back to your dad’s place and talk freely?”

“Does my dad know who you are?” I blurt out, suddenly remembering how much my dad dislikes him, thanks to all those years I spent crying over his stupid ass.

“I believe so, because I introduced myself when I first went to his house,” Andrew smirks.

The exasperation in my voice is unmistakable as I gasp, “And what did he say to you?”

He tilts his head, clearly puzzled. “Why are you so nervous?” 

“Because my dad hates you,” I confess, clapping a hand over my mouth to stop myself from revealing more.

“Why would your dad hate me when he doesn’t even know me?”

“Are you really spending the week with me?” I change the subject, still dazed by his presence.

He nods in response, flashing me a breathtaking smile.

“Why did you change your mind? And where’s Mia?” I finally ask, unable to hold back my curiosity any longer.

“Why would I know where Mia is?” He tilts his head again, his brows knitting together in confusion.

“Why wouldn’t you know where your… friend is?” I hiss, jealousy getting the better of me.

“For god’s sake, Emi. Can you please stop arguing with me?” he pleads, reaching for my face, his fingers tilting my chin up, and his exasperated gaze locking onto mine.

“Andrew, I—”

“Are you jealous of my friendship with Mia?” He cuts straight to the point—the bastard.

“As if,” I scoff, turning around and heading toward the parking lot.

“You’re jealous,” he teases, falling into step beside me.

“Oh my gosh, Andrew. You are so…” I trail off, shooting him a murderous glare.

His lips curl into a smug smile as he smirks, “Handsome? Charming? Irresistible?” 

“Annoying,” I groan, rolling my eyes.

He chuckles, unbothered, before circling back to the topic I’ve been avoiding and pressing, “Why does your dad hate me?” 

“Look.” I point at my car parked nearby. “That’s mine,” I say, deliberately ignoring his question.

“My car is right over there,” he replies, gesturing to one of the same model parked a few spaces down. “Looks like we’ve got the same taste. I think we’re soulmates,” he states casually.

I gape at him, astonished.

“I’ll follow you to your dad’s place,” he adds, unfazed by my reaction—or lack thereof. “Or would you rather follow me?”

“Okay,” I mutter before sprinting to my car, trying to escape him and stop acting like a complete idiot, as if I haven’t already embarrassed myself enough.

A few minutes later, I’m behind the wheel, following Andrew’s car as we head toward my dad’s house. Everything is happening so fast, and I’m not sure I fully understand what’s going on with my first love.

The thought of what might happen over the next few days leaves me confused but strangely excited—not that I’m expecting anything romantic. Still, Andrew looks ridiculously handsome, and he smells even better, and I can’t pretend the idea of sleeping with him doesn’t cross my mind.

My thoughts spiral despite my best efforts—images of him taking off his dark jeans, black leather jacket, and casual T-shirt flash through my mind, awakening the dormant desire in me.

“Oh no,” I whisper, suddenly remembering the pieces of cloth I brought with me. “All I have at my dad’s house are granny panties and my cute pajamas.”

Wow, Emily. Those will surely turn on Andrew—not.

“There goes my delusional fantasies,” I sigh, regretting not bringing anything sexier, though it’s not like I even own something like that.

I shake my head a couple of times, trying to push the thoughts away in order to focus on the road and drive safely.

* * *

“Bow-wow,” Milo barks as soon as I step into the open living room, where my dad is watching TV with a woman I don’t recognize.

“Milo,” I call, opening my arms to hug the furry little thing tightly. Gosh, I love this pug.

“Bow-wow,” he responds, jumping into my arms and licking my face like crazy.

“I missed you.” I kiss him on the head and playfully nibble on his left ear.

“You found my daughter,” Dad exclaims to Andrew, the latter standing beside me.

“I did, sir. Thank you for letting me know where she was,” Andrew replies politely.

“You are so handsome. Yes, you are. Yes, you are,” I coo at my dog in my baby voice. “And you’re the cleanest baby in the whole world.” I bury my nose in his short fur on his head, inhaling the soapy scent. There’s a green bow tied around his neck, too.

“Grace brought him back from the pet salon while you were at the cemetery,” Dad comments, shooting the unfamiliar woman a tender smile.

“Grace?” I grimace, glancing between Dad and the stranger.

“Hi, Emily. I’m Grace.” She rushes to introduce herself, approaching us.

“Grace owns a pet salon,” Dad adds, wrapping an arm around her waist and smiling affectionately, much to my shock.

“Are you two dating?” I ask, my eyes widening.

“I could ask you the same question, Oregano.” Dad’s gaze turns colder as it lands on Andrew.

“Why didn’t you tell me you and Grace were a thing?” I set Milo down on the floor, not taking my eyes off my dad.

“Emi, maybe we should go to your bedroom and give your father and his friend some privacy,” Andrew says.

“You should have told me about him.” Dad scowls at me while pointing at Andrew.

“There’s nothing to tell,”  I groan, shrugging dismissively.

“Mr. Sky, Emily and I are friends, and I have a great deal of respect for her. I appreciate you letting me stay here for the holidays,” Andrew tells Dad in an attempt to ease his hostility.

“Tsk. Do I have another choice?” Dad huffs. “You’re my daughter’s friend, and she wants you here so…” He rolls his eyes.

“Thank you, Dad. You’re the best,” I squeal, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek before grabbing Andrew’s hand and dragging him to my bedroom without looking back.

“You and Andrew should watch a movie with your father and me, Emily,” Grace suggests before I disappear from her view, but I ignore her.

“Keep your bedroom door open, Oregano,” Dad yells.

“I can’t believe my dad is dating someone,” I pout once Andrew and I are in my room.

Andrew sits on the bed, his eyes fixed on me. “You didn’t know about that?” 

“He mentioned a friend, but he forgot to say she’s more than that,” I grumble, irritation hitting me like a lightning bolt. “I’m used to women hitting on him when they find out he’s a widower. Still, this is the first time he is actually seeing someone, and it’s weird,” I admit, flopping down beside Andrew, my gaze drifting to the boy bands’ posters taped to the ceiling above my bed.

“Grace seems nice,” Andrew says out of the blue.

“Yeah, she does,” I begrudgingly agree.

Silence settles between us for the next few minutes, until Milo’s loud barking breaks it. Before I can react, the pug jumps straight onto my stomach, practically knocking the air out of me.

“Ouch,” I yelp, wincing as the little chunk lands on me.

“Hey, why does your father call you Oregano?” Andrew pries, his eyes glinting with mischief.

“Because I love oregano,” I state without thinking twice.

“That’s weird. Oregano? Really?” He chuckles.

“Oregano is life, Andy.”

“If you say so.” He chuckles again.

“There are three things I can’t live without—oregano, coffee, and my laptop,” I add casually, scratching behind Milo’s ears, causing him to close his eyes, his tongue hanging out in pure bliss.

Andrew falls silent, his smoldering gaze fixed on me.

I’ve lost count of how many times I dreamed about having Andrew Keegan in my bedroom, and not in a perverted way. I mean, I always craved to have a deeper relationship with him, like I wanted us to be best friends who talk about everything, who are completely honest with each other, and who grow up side by side—something he had with Charlotte.

“Why are you here, Andrew?” The question slips out of my mouth in a low voice.

“Because I want to be near you,” he immediately responds.

“But why?”

“ Because I like you, Emi. I really do. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since we met in the elevator,” he admits, his words carrying a weight I’m not used to.

I open my mouth to make a snarky comment, but my brain completely blanks, and I end up snorting instead.

“Hey, Jess and Pedro are throwing a party at their parents’ place tonight. Do you want to go?”

I sit up, putting some distance between us. “Who are Jess and Pedro?” 

“They are our friends. How come you don’t remember them?” He arches an eyebrow, amused.

“Our friends?” I emphasize “our”, as I don’t recall having any friends with those names.

“We used to hang out in the same crowd,” he insists while squeezing Milo’s cheeks and smiling.

“Oh, you mean your popular crowd?” I snort, unable to hide the sarcasm dripping from my words. “Sorry to burst your bubble, but I was never part of it.”

“Of course you were,” he retorts, giving me an indignant look.

“Charlotte was, but I wasn’t,” I shoot back, rolling my eyes.

Andrew hops off the bed with Milo in his arms before insisting stubbornly, “You were part of our group, Emily. Why else do you think you were invited to all those parties? You used to hang out with us all the time.”

“Bow-wow!” Milo interrupts, as if sensing the tension building between Andrew and me.

“Let’s go to the party and have fun with our friends. Please,” he says, emphasizing the word our.

“Fine,” I give in, throwing my hands up in defeat. “But I should warn you that I have nothing to wear to a party.” I gesture at my outfit—casual jeans, a gray turtleneck sweater, and a black coat.

“It doesn’t matter what you wear because you’re perfect anytime and anywhere,” he remarks, staring at me, smiling from ear to ear.

I’m not used to this flirtatious version of Andrew, and I must admit it feels good.

For the first time in years, I’m actually excited about going to a party where Andrew will be, mostly because I know he won’t be there with Charlotte. Maybe it’ll be fun after all, even if I don’t remember the hosts and probably won’t recognize half the people there.

* * *