“Do you really have to go?” I ask.

I lean over her, pressing my mouth against hers in a shameless attempt to stop her from leaving. She groans, but I can feel her starting to give in.

“Yes,” she says firmly. She grins at me and pushes me away, so she can stand up. “I’ll see you later, okay?”

I chuckle and watch her walk out of the room, listening out for the sound of the front door opening and closing, then I roll over and sigh. Last night was pretty fucking special. Not a single part of me expected it to end like that. Of course, I didn’t expect it to start the way it did either.

I smile at the sound of the doorbell and hoist myself out of bed. I walk over to the door, not bothering to put any clothes on. I’m that sure it’s Darcy, back for more of me. I knew she’d change her mind. I pull open the door.

“I knew you couldn’t keep that sexy ass of yours away—”

I stop talking when I see my father standing there.

“Dad,” I say in a flat voice.

“It’s a little creepy that you find my ass sexy,” Dad says, somehow managing to say that with a straight face.

“Obviously I thought you were someone else,” I retort. “What do you want?”

I walk over to the couch and grab a blanket, wrapping it around me, because there’s no need to ever have a conversation with my father while I’m naked.

“I have something I want to ask you.”

He awkwardly looks around, his eyes avoiding mine. I frown, impatiently waiting for him to just say what he needs to say, but he can't seem to get it out.

“Which is what?” I prompt him.

“I wanted to ask you if you’d be my best man best man,” he murmurs.

“Your best man?” I repeat. I look away, feeling embarrassed and uneasy. I thought I had escaped him asking me this with the ceremony just being immediate family, and I’m not sure how to say no without being rude.

“I'm not sure that's a good idea,” I finally say.

“What do you have against this wedding?” he asks, frustrated. “Is it Paula?”

“No, of course not,” I sigh. “I'm glad that you’re marrying her. I like Paula.”

“Then what is it?”

“Just forget it. Please,” I urge him.

“No.” he gives me a hard stare. “I can’t, and I won’t. Is it that I moved on too soon?” he asks.

“No…yes,” I say. I keep my voice flat. “You knew Mack and I were still struggling, but you didn’t care.”

He shakes his head. “Your mother and I separated a long time before she got sick,” he reminds me. “I know you and Mack thought we might get back together, but there was never any chance of that happening. It thought you’d accepted that. But then your mood and behavior changed again, once we set the wedding date.”

“Just let it go,” I insist.

He sighs and looks at his watch. “I have a meeting to go to,” he murmurs. “Can we continue this later? We can sit down and talk about this properly over a drink. I’ll come over tonight, okay?”

“Sure,” I say, my tone flat. “Whatever.”

“Good. I’ll see you then,” he says, then he marches over to the door and walks out.

I should have known he’d cancel.

It’s what he does best, after all. How many times have I dropped everything, for him to cancel on me? Half the time he can’t even call or text me to let me know. I read through his message again, then I walk over to the couch, falling face down onto the cushions. No sooner than I do, the doorbell rings.

Maybe he could make it after all.

When I open the door and find Darcy, I feel a twinge of disappointment. God, it kills me that I feel that way, but I can’t help it. She looks closely at me as she follows me inside.

“Are you okay?” she asks.

I shrug. “I’m fine.”

“You don’t seem it,” she says.

She follows me into the living room and stands there as I sit down.

“I get so frustrated with him,” I grumble.

“Your dad?” she guesses.

I nod. “We were supposed to catch up tonight. His idea, I might add. He wanted to get everything out on the table.” I laugh bitterly. “But he couldn't even show up for that. And it was the same with dinner last week and every other time he’s made plans with me. He made this big deal about dinner last week, how I had to go to, but then he couldn't even sort his shit out to go to it himself? What kind of message is that sending?”

“What's going on with you and him?” she asks. “You’re really against this wedding, aren’t you?” she adds.

I shake my head. “It’s nothing to do with your mom. I think she’s great.”

“So then, what is it?” she asks.

She reaches for my hand. I let her take it, loving the feel of her fingers entwining in mine.

“It’s a long story,” I warn her.

She smiles. “I’ve got time.”

I sigh, trying to get my thoughts together to express what I’m feeling.

“Dad started dating so quickly after Mom was gone. I know they were divorced and that his feelings for her were different than they were when they were married, but I can’t shake the anger I feel toward him over that,” I mutter.

Even saying it aloud, I can see how silly it is, but I can’t help it. It’s how I feel.

“Mack and I were still trying to cope and he’s out seeing all these women...”

“That must have been hard for you,” she sympathizes. “I don’t think it’s irrational at all. You associate your parents as being in love. I don’t blame you for not wanting much to do with this wedding.”

“It’s not even that,” I say as she sits down next to me. “The date of the wedding is the same day Mom was told her cancer was terminal.”

“Shit.” She frowns at me. “And your Dad didn’t realize?”

“I guess he had a lot on his mind.” I frown. “They’re getting married exactly three years to the day that she found out. Maybe I'm being too sensitive or something.”

“Don’t dismiss it like that,” she says. “You feel the way you feel. You don’t need to apologize for that.”

“Maybe if you speak with your dad—”

“No,” I say, frowning at her. “I don’t want to ruin their day anymore that I already am.” I nod at the bag she brought with her, keen to change the subject. “What’s that?”

“Nothing,” she murmurs, her cheeks going red. “I just bought you some dresses that I don't really wear anymore. I thought you might want to experiment with them,” she says. “Only if you want them, though,” she hurries to add.

I shrug. “Thanks. I’m sure they’re great.”

“You can try them on now if you want?” she suggests. “Do a little fashion show for me. It might cheer you up?”

I’m about to say no, but then I change my mind. She’s right about one thing. It will help me take my mind off Dad.

“Sure. Great idea.”

The smile she gives me is so happy and genuine that I feel awful for lying to her. I walk into my room and toss the clothes on my bed. I groan as I sift through the offerings. Am I really doing this? I laugh. This is fucking ridiculous. I pull a dress out and study it. I can already tell it's going to be way too small, but just to humor her, I put it on anyway.

“What the fuck am I doing?” I mutter.

I stare at my reflection in the mirror. There’s a chick I really like, standing in my living room and I'm in the bedroom, trying on her old dresses. Who the fuck does that? I laugh. I can’t keep doing this. If she hates me, she hates me. Either way, I need to go out there and tell her the truth. I stomp out there. I’m ready to confess everything, though I probably should’ve thought about taking the dress off first.

“Darcy, can we talk—”

I stop when I see Lewis. He does a double take when he looks in my direction. His eyes widen as they lock on mine. Then he starts laughing.

“Wow, Cam,” he chuckles. “I really like that shade of blue on you. It really brings out your eyes.” He studies me thoughtfully. “Actually, do you have red? Because I’ll need to see you in that—"

“Shut the fuck up,” I grumble, glaring at him.

“I’m sorry, he kind of let himself in,” Darcy says helplessly. She jumps to her feet. “Shit. I totally forgot. Mom wanted to take her to the lady who’s doing her dress alterations,” she explains. “

“She’s cutting that a bit close, isn’t she?” Lewis muses.

I snort. “Oh, are you’re a fucking dress expert, now?”

“No, but going by this, you might be,” he says with a grin, nodding at my sexy little black number.

Darcy’s eyes briefly meet mine. “Mom had to buy another dress.”

“Another one?” Lewis asks. “What happened the first one?”

Darcy’s eyes flicker to mine, sparkling in a way that makes my stomach churn.

“She decided that purple isn’t really her color.”

My eyes widen. “No,” I gasp.

“It’s fine,” she giggles as I walk her to the door. “She likes the new dress better, anyway.” She gives me a kiss, then walks out.

I stole my future stepmother’s wedding dress?

“What the fuck is going on?” Lewis asks when I walk back down to him in the living room. “You’re wearing a dress, dude. If I thought for a second you were into that, then fine, but you’re not.” He pauses for a moment, uncertain. “Are you?”

“I’ve got no idea anymore,” I mumble into my hands.

“You’re losing the plot,” he comments. “Is this all just some silly game to try and land Darcy?”

“It appears that way,” I say, clenching my teeth.

“Man, you need to tell Darcy the truth. Whatever the fuck that is.”

“I know,” I say grimly. “Trust me, I know.”