Caleb is home most of Friday, and I find myself avoiding him. I know he notices. We always hang out together, the three of us, when he’s off. Usually we would have taken Charlotte to the park, or the library. Or maybe played board games with her. But I stay in my room for most of the afternoon.

I come downstairs to rinse out my mug and toss my tea bag in the garbage. Caleb wanders into the kitchen.

“Hey,” he says. “You feeling okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” I say, hoping that sounds believable. Seeing him stirs up all those stupid emotions yet again. “I just needed some time to relax.”

“Good,” he says. “I was a little worried about you.”

Damn it, Caleb, stop being so sweet. It’s not fair. “No need. I’m okay.”

“What do you have going on tonight?” he asks. “Charlotte and I have a riveting movie to watch. It’s Disney, so it should be good. Want to join us?”

“Oh,” I say, tucking my hair behind my ear. “Actually, um, I have plans tonight.”

He blinks and a look of surprise crosses his features. “Oh, yeah, of course. That’s great.” He hesitates for a second, his mouth partially open. “Are you hanging out with Chloe again, or do you mean like, a date?”

“A date.”

“Right, good,” he says, stepping away. “That’s good. Of course you have a date. That’s awesome.”

“It is?”

“Yeah,” he says. “You can’t just hang out with us boring old people all the time.”

“Oh, no, you guys are great to hang out with.”

“But you should meet people your own age,” he says. “I’m glad you’re dating.”

He’s glad I’m dating. Of course he’s glad. He doesn’t want me making puppy eyes at him all the time. And people my own age? God, why does he think I’m a child? Sure, I’m still young, but I’m not a little kid who needs to be set up on playdates.

“Okay, well, good,” I say. “Although I think he’s closer to your age than mine.”

“He’s what?” Caleb asks. “I mean, oh, okay. How did you meet him?”

“His son is one of my piano students,” I say.

“One of your…” He looks away and rubs the back of his neck. “Wow, are you sure that’s a good idea? To date someone like that?”

“Someone like what?” I ask.

“Well… if he’s older than you, and he has a kid,” he says. “And that kid is one of your students. It seems like that could get awkward.”

“Yeah, I thought about that,” I say. “But he seems really nice. And it’s just dinner.”

“Right… just dinner… yeah, that’s great.”

“I mean, if you need me…” I fumble over the words, because I’m not sure what I want to say. Or what I want him to say. Why is this conversation so awkward? “That is, if you need me here tonight for anything, I can cancel.”

“No,” he says quickly. “No, you don’t need to cancel your date.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” he says. “Go out. Have fun. That’s what you should be doing in your free time.”

“Okay,” I say. “Well, I’m going to go get ready.”

“Yeah. Have fun tonight.”

“Thanks. I will.”

I go upstairs but my feet feel heavy. I’m flooded with disappointment. But what did I want him to do? Tell me to cancel? Why would he do that? Caleb doesn’t see me that way.

I should be dating. Getting out there. Meeting more people. As it is, my social life consists of a six-year-old girl, her dad, and his married, mostly-thirty-something siblings.

I’m not really sure what’s wrong with that, but I guess it’s not normal. I let out a heavy sigh as I shut my bedroom door. I’m never normal.

An hour later, the doorbell rings and I’m hit with a rush of nervousness. It’s Nate. I should be excited and looking forward to this, but all I feel is a knot of anxiety in the pit of my stomach.

I check my reflection one last time. My floral dress is pretty. Between my boobs and my hips, it’s hard to find clothes that fit right. Everything is either way too revealing, or way too frumpy. But I found a pretty wrap dress that minimizes my chest nicely without making me look like I’m wearing my grandma’s clothes. My hair is down and when I let it drape over my shoulders, it hides my curves a little more. I rub my lips together to make sure my lipstick is even and step into my heels.

Here we go.

I walk down the stairs to find two men watching me. One is Nate, dressed in a button-down shirt and slacks. His hands are in his pockets, and one corner of his mouth turns up in a smile.

Caleb’s eyes are wide and his lips part. His gaze follows me as I walk the rest of the way down, and I feel my cheeks flush.

“Hi,” I say to Nate.

“Wow, you look stunning.” Nate steps in and puts a hand on my arm, then leans in to give me a quick peck on the cheek.

I try not to shy away, but it catches me off guard. “Oh, thank you.”

Nate holds a hand out to Caleb. “Nate Ingram.”

“Caleb Lawson.” He shakes hands with Nate.

“Caleb is my…” How do I introduce him? My boss? My brother-in-law? Is he still my brother-in-law? “Well, I’m his daughter’s nanny.”

“Nice to meet you,” Nate says.

Caleb nods, but I don’t get the sense that the feeling is mutual.

I slip my phone in my little purse with a glance at Caleb. “Um, so, I’ll be home later.”

“Right,” Caleb says, stepping away. “Yeah. Have a good time.”

“Don’t worry, Dad, I’ll have her home before curfew,” Nate says.

Caleb’s expression hardens, but Nate laughs.

“I’m sorry, man, I’m just kidding,” he says. “I get it, I’m the same way. Hard to turn off the dad thing.”

“Yeah,” Caleb says with a brief laugh, but I can tell he didn’t find that the least bit funny.

Nate puts his hand on my back. “Shall we?”

“Sure.”

I don’t look at Caleb again, just let Nate lead me outside to his car.

We head downtown and Nate pulls up in front of the Hyatt. The valet opens my door and Nate comes around from the other side. He offers his arm and I tuck my hand into the crook of his elbow.

“Is there a restaurant here?” I ask.

“Yeah, it’s nice,” Nate says. “I thought it would be a good choice.”

We walk through the lobby; everything is so sleek and modern. This place looks expensive. I was picturing something different when he asked me to have dinner—something more low-key. Maybe that’s because I just got out of school; most college students don’t have the money for expensive dates, so I haven’t really been on one. Still, this all feels so fancy.

He leads us to the restaurant, Urbane. It also looks very modern, with exposed bulb light fixtures and dark wood tables. There’s a long white marble bar fronted by white barstools, and large windows face the street.

The host walks us past the bar and around a corner to a small table by the window. Nate pulls out my chair and I thank him as I take my seat. A waiter walks by with a tray of cocktails, and I don’t think I could name a single one. Electric blue, bright yellow, the glasses rimmed with sugar.

Anxiety tingles through me. What should I order in a place like this? I’m going to look like an inexperienced kid.

The menu doesn’t help. I glance at the choices, but suddenly it seems like such a big decision. Should I have a drink? If I do, should I try one of these specialty cocktails? I don’t drink a lot, but I know I like white wine. Maybe I should just order that. But is this the kind of place where you order wine? I glance around at the other tables, trying to get a feel for what people are drinking. I see a lot of those colorful cocktails in fancy glasses.

Nate puts his menu down and closes it. I guess he knows what he wants. I look at the food, trying not to get so fixated on the drinks. Maybe I’ll let him order first and follow his lead. Or I can always ask the waiter for suggestions.

My tummy swirls with more nerves. Most of the entrees are expensive. I don’t know if he’s trying to impress me with a fancy dinner or what, but it’s not working. I’d be much more comfortable in a place where one dinner didn’t cost more than I spent on an entire meal for me and Charlotte the other day.

The waiter returns for our drink orders.

“I’ll have a Burgundy Lush, and the lovely lady here will have an Urbane Daiquiri.”

I blink at Nate, my lips parting. Did he just order for me?

“Would you like any appetizers to start?” the waiter asks.

“Yes, we’ll have the crab cakes,” Nate says.

“Excellent. I’ll get your drinks and be back shortly to take your dinner order.”

I’m still staring at Nate, about to ask him why he ordered without asking me, but he starts talking before I can start.

“I hope you don’t mind,” he says. “The daiquiri is one of their specialties; I know you’ll enjoy it. And the crab cakes are excellent. It’s their best appetizer by far.”

Well, I guess he’s just trying to show me what’s good here. “Sure, that’s fine. They both sound good.”

“They are,” he says. “I think you’ll really enjoy them.”

The intense look in his eyes and the way his voice has gone kind of low is not helping me relax. I go back to the menu and decide on lemon brined chicken. It seems like a safe choice.

“How long have you been playing piano?” Nate asks.

“Since I was four,” I say.

“Impressive,” he says. “Do you enjoy teaching?”

“I really do,” I say. “I think, no matter what else I do, I’d like to keep teaching.”

“That’s great,” he says. “Jax has been making a lot of progress.”

“He’s doing very well,” I say, grateful to be able to talk about his son. It feels like neutral territory.

“My ex started him on lessons with someone else, but he was really unhappy. She was too rigid. Kind of like my ex.” He grins. “Anyway, we’re lucky to have found you.”

The waiter comes back and asks if we’re ready. He looks at me, but Nate speaks up.

“She’ll have the pork tenderloin,” he says. “And I’ll have the center cut ribeye. On the rare side, red is fine, but warm throughout.”

“Perfect,” the waiter says. He takes our menus and leaves.

“You didn’t need to order for me,” I say.

“I know what’s good here,” he says. “Trust me. You’ll love it.”

Our drinks arrive and I nod at the waiter. I don’t want to be rude, but I’m so annoyed that Nate ordered for me. Twice. I’m perfectly capable of choosing my own meal.

“Try the daiquiri,” Nate says.

I glance up at him, trying not to get ruffled by the fact that now he’s telling me what to do. Maybe he’s just excited for me to try it. He obviously likes this restaurant and wants to share that with me.

I take a sip and it’s hideously sweet. I’m not the most experienced drinker, especially when it comes to fancy cocktails, but this is awful.

“Wow,” I say. “It’s, um… very sweet.”

“See, I knew you’d love it,” he says. He takes a sip of his.

I don’t bother to correct him. I’ll just take little sips once the food gets here.

We make more small talk until our food arrives. The appetizer is fine, but my dinner isn’t what I would have chosen. It’s not terrible, but I would have enjoyed the chicken a lot more. I’m just not a pork person. I pick at my meal and try to maintain my side of the conversation, but Nate does a lot of the talking.

“Needless to say, that trip to Tokyo wasn’t what I expected,” he says.

He keeps telling stories about places he’s been, implying that surprising or interesting things happened, but never quite getting into the actual details.

“Sounds like it,” I say.

“Is your dinner all right?” he asks.

“It’s fine,” I say. “I don’t usually eat pork, but this is good for what it is.”

“Yeah, they have great food here,” he says. “How about dessert?”

“No, I don’t think so,” I say. I’m so over this date. Even if he hadn’t ordered me a drink and a dinner I don’t like, I’m getting such a weird vibe from him. He hasn’t said anything specific to make me uncomfortable, but my anxiety hasn’t dissipated. In fact, I feel a little sick.

He smiles and the waiter appears. He asks for the check and hands over a credit card. I’m so glad this is almost over. The waiter comes back with his card and a receipt. Nate signs it and leaves it in the black folder, but he doesn’t get up.

“So, I suppose we should go,” he says. A little smile plays on his lips and he pulls something out of his wallet. He slides a card across the table toward me and raises an eyebrow.

I look down at the card. It has the hotel logo on the front. For a second, I don’t understand what I’m looking at, but then it dawns on me. Oh my god, it’s a room key.

“Oh, Nate.” I pause, trying to figure out what to say. “That’s not—”

“The rooms are beautiful here,” he says.

“I’m sure they are, but—”

“Listen,” he says, cutting me off again, “let’s just go upstairs. Order a bottle of wine. Talk. See where this goes.”

“I don’t think—”

“It’s not complicated, Linnea,” he says. “You’re a beautiful girl. I’d really like to spend more time with you. Haven’t I made that clear?” He gestures to our surroundings. “Great restaurant. Nice atmosphere. I didn’t exactly hold back.”

“I realize that, and it’s very nice, but I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

He presses his lips together and taps his finger on the card a few times. “This is a suite. I’m not suggesting we go to a place that rents rooms by the hour. This is an upscale hotel.”

I feel sick to my stomach. I want to get out of here, but Nate drove me. “A fancy hotel isn’t really the point, though.”

“It’s not?” He sits back in his seat and crosses his arms. “So an expensive dinner and a suite at the Hyatt don’t do it for you? Maybe I should have taken you out to a club. Grabbed your ass on the dance floor. Gotten you drunk and hauled you outside to fuck you in the back seat of my car?”

“God, Nate, what the hell?” I ask.

“No, really?” he asks. “What would it take? I didn’t think you were one of those girls, but I guess I was wrong.”

“What girls?”

“Just looking to take advantage,” he says. “You want men to take you out to nice places, but you’re not interested in doing anything in return.”

I gape at him. He can’t be serious. “Excuse me? I didn’t ask for any of this. You asked me out. You picked the restaurant. You even ordered my dinner. I don’t know why you think I owe you anything.”

He shakes his head with a quiet laugh. “Figures. Women like you always think they can get away with this.”

“Get away with…” I sputter a little, aghast. What is he talking about? I clutch my purse into my lap. “Nate, you need to take me home.”

He tilts his head, his expression softening, and uncrosses his arms. “Linnea, I’m so sorry. I have a little bit of a temper. I didn’t mean to upset you. It’s just, you know, the pressures of being a single father and everything. It’s hard.”

Oh my god, I can’t believe he’s trying to use his kid as an excuse for being an ass. “Still. I’m ready to go.”

“Just come up and see the room,” he says, his voice soothing. “I promise, you’ll love it.”

“I need to go to the restroom.” I stand, still clutching my purse.

Nate stands and grabs my wrist before I can walk away. He leans in close and his voice is hard. “Hurry back, and then I’m taking you upstairs.” He squeezes my arm so tight it hurts.

I wrench my hand from his grasp. I’m nauseated with fear. My hands tremble as I walk to the bathroom. I slip into a stall and lock the door, then take a few deep breaths. There are red marks on my arm where he grabbed me.

I pull out my phone and before I even think about it, I have Caleb’s number on the screen. But it’s late. Charlotte is in bed by now. He can’t just leave to come get me.

The easiest thing to do is order an Uber. Seven minutes. Damn. Is that really the closest driver? I wish Uber had a secret code for girl in trouble and they’d get here faster. Maybe send someone big and intimidating. How am I going to get through the next seven minutes? That’s a long time to be in a bathroom. Nate might come looking.

The Uber will arrive faster than Caleb could get here anyway, but I bring up his number again. I shouldn’t bother him. I’ll be home in no time. But I’m scared.

I hit the call button.

“Linnea? Are you okay?”

“No.” Any thought I had of pretending I’m fine dissipates as soon as I hear the concern in his voice. “No, I’m hiding in the bathroom at the Hyatt downtown.”

“The Hyatt? What’s going on?”

“We had dinner at the restaurant, but Nate has a room key,” I say. “He’s trying to convince me to go upstairs with him and he won’t take no for an answer.”

“I’ll be right there.”

“No, no, don’t,” I say. “I have a ride coming. It’s just… Caleb, I’m scared. Can you stay on the phone with me until my ride gets here?”

“Yeah, of course,” he says. “You’re going to be fine. Just stay in the bathroom.”

“Okay, but I have at least six more minutes,” I say. “What if he comes looking for me?”

“Tell him you don’t feel well,” he says.

I take a shaky breath. “Okay.”

“And don’t hang up,” he says. “Don’t hang up until you’re here, okay?”

“I won’t.”

“You’ll be fine,” he says and I cling to the confidence in his voice.

The door opens and I gasp.

“What’s going on?” he asks. “Linnea?”

I hear the click of shoes on the tile and glance under the door. High heels. “It’s nothing,” I whisper.

“Okay, how much longer for your ride?”

I check the time. “Six minutes.”

“Here’s what I want you to do,” he says. “Go out of the bathroom and walk straight to the front desk. If there are other guests there, interrupt. Don’t worry about being rude. Tell them you need help—you need someone to walk you outside. Just be honest, tell them you’re scared.”

“Okay.” Deep breath. I leave the stall and open the bathroom door.

“Are you going?” Caleb asks.

“Yes. I don’t know if he’s looking for me.”

“Keep walking.”

I walk out of the restaurant, my back tight with strain, and head to the front desk. There’s no line, so I go straight to the first person I see.

“Excuse me, I’m sorry, but I need help,” I say, amazed that my voice is so clear. “I was on a date and he’s being very aggressive. My ride is coming, but is there someone who can walk me outside?”

“Oh honey,” the woman says, full of sympathy. “Yes, of course. Ricardo?”

“Linnea, you’re amazing,” Caleb says.

My heart thumps. “Thank you.”

A tall man with jet black hair and a hotel uniform comes out. “Yeah?”

The front desk woman steps close and talks to him in a quiet voice, gesturing to me. I glance over my shoulder and see Nate coming into the lobby. He’s looking around, but doesn’t seem to have spotted me.

“Let’s go,” Ricardo says.

“He’s over there, by the entrance to the restaurant.”

“Are you with someone now?” Caleb asks.

“Yes.”

“Good.”

Ricardo comes around the desk and stands behind me, like he’s trying to block Nate’s view. My hands are shaking so much I’m having a hard time holding the phone to my ear; my wrist still hurts where he grabbed me. I don’t look back as we walk out the front doors. Ricardo gestures to the left, so I walk a short distance down the street. He stays behind me the whole time.

“You have a cab coming?” Ricardo asks. “Or do you need me to get you one?”

“Uber,” I say. I move the phone away from my ear to check the time. “Any minute now.”

He crosses his arms over his chest and nods.

A car pulls up, the window already down. “Are you Linnea?”

“Yes. Hang on, Caleb, my ride is here.” I turn to Ricardo. “Thank you so much.”

Ricardo opens the door for me. “No problem, miss.”

“Linnea!” Nate’s angry voice makes me jump.

“Get in the car,” Caleb says in my ear.

“Go on,” Ricardo says.

The car door shuts and I lock it as quickly as I can. I’m afraid to look back. “I’m in the car.”

Caleb lets out a breath. “Don’t hang up. Stay with me, okay?”

“I won’t.”

“You all right?” the driver asks as he pulls out onto the street.

“I am now,” I say. “Thank you. I just need to get home.”

He nods to me and keeps driving.

I don’t say much to Caleb on the drive home, but just knowing he’s there makes me feel better. He asks a few times if I’m okay, and where I am. I let him know when we pull onto his street. The driver parks in front of his house and I look out to see Caleb standing in the open doorway, still holding the phone to his ear.