Nate cuts through the crowd, rushing toward us in the ballroom. "Didn't think I'd see you here! Your name wasn't on the guest list—"

"I'm Dad's plus one," I jump in, giving Nate a friendly peck on the cheek.

His cologne is fresh and smells like the ocean—brings a hint of warm summer to this gloomy December day. And damn, he looks hot in his tuxedo! Even though I don't see any ladies around him, I'm sure he'll take a couple of beauties home tonight.

Letting go of Dad, I loop my arm into Nate's with a proud smile. "Dad, this is my best friend, Nate."

Nate snaps a gaze at me. A goofy grin spreads across his face and makes me chuckle.

"I'm honored," Nate says, leaping forwad to shake Dad's hand as he's looking at me.

"Thank you." Dad replies, shifting uncomfortably.

"Oh, yeah, sure. I'm honored to meet you too, sir." Nate finally tears his gaze from mine as he turns to Dad. "But I'm mainly honored because she called me her best friend."

Dad's bushy brows fly up and then furrow down. His mouth moves like a fish out of water, struggling to find words as he scans the crowd in confusion. Then our eyes meet, and Dad bursts out laughing.

My jaw falls open as I join in his laughter. It's been so long since I heard that genuine, melodious sound escape his lips.

Nate tousles his hair, trying to look innocent. "Shall I escort you to your table?"

Dad nods, his shoulders still shaking with silent laughter.

Nate secures my arm into his, smiles back at Dad over his shoulder, and guides us deeper into the ballroom.

The winter theme around us feels magical. Crystal icicles hang from the ceiling, casting a rainbow of colors as they catch the light. The white carpet beneath our feet resembles a fresh blanket of snow. With each step, my heels sink into its soft fibers. I lean on Nate every now and then to find my balance, but he is not complaining.

I have to give it to the event planner; this theme is perfect for today's cause in so many levels. It's not just because Christmas is right around the corner, but because winter holds a deeper meaning for Dad's patients.

Those who have battled Alzeihmer's and Dementia describe their experience as being buried under layers of snow with each passing day while their memories fade away.

I'm proud to be a genius' daughter. No matter how Dad's work had separated us and I had to grow up alone, my dad developed a medicine that's changed lives. He's cleared away mountains of snow for countless patients, restoring their memories and returning them to their lives. Sadly, some patients are beyond help, as in the case with any field of research. Still, tonight is about reaching out to them and their families—at least it should be.

Nate's hand glides over the deep opening on my back as he leans in close to my ear. "Does Olga know that I've taken her place?"

"Not yet," I reply with a grin. "But she knows that I've released her from her best friend duties so she can build a life of her own."

"I'm thrilled to fill this new position," he says as his fingers trace up my spine. "You won't regret it, I swear."

A fiery glow flickers in his eyes as our gazes lock, and my heart skips a beat.

Keep touching me like that, and I'll think of other positions where you can fill me, Nate. I bite my lips and avert my gaze. I'm a horrible person with a dirty mind. Seriously, what's wrong with me?

"Dr. Shepherd, here is your seat," Nate announces when we finally reach our table, then pulls out the empty chair next to Dean Pitri.

The dean turns his balding head toward Dad and sinks back in his seat with a sigh of relief. The woman in the red sari beside him must be his wife. She gently strokes her husband's hand and gives us a warm smile.

"Thank you," Dad says as he takes his seat, and exchanges greetings with those around the table.

"Where's your table?" I ask Nate.

He cranes his neck and nods toward the far end of the room. "I'd rather hang at the bar, though. It's all Mom's friends who either want to set me up with their daughters or keep them away from me."

I burst out laughing. If I ever had a daughter one day, I wouldn't mind her dating a guy like Nate.

With a hand still on my waist, Nate bends toward Dad's ear. "Dr. Shepherd, I'm taking Abby to the bar if that's alright with you."

Dad frowns, peering over his glasses at me. But when Dr. Pitri pats his arm and points at the warm bun and the butter, Dad settles into his seat more comfortably.

"I'll be right there," I say, gesturing toward the bar along the wall. "Just wave at me if you need anything."

"I'm not a child, Abigail," Dad protests, slicing into his bread. "Go. Enjoy yourself."

When Dr. Pitri's wife sends me an assuring smile, I squeeze Dad's shoulders, and let Nate lead the way.

The jazz tunes playing softly in the background are barely audible over the guests' murmurs. We both smile at the bartender as Nate pulls out a chair and helps me climb onto the barstool. Taking a seat beside me, he orders mojitos and taps his fingers lightly against the shiny black counter. "What have you been up to?" he asks.

"Spending quality time with my dog." I smile, and thank the bartender when he passes me my drink. "And you? Why are you alone tonight?"

Nate backs away as if I'd just slapped him. "I'm not alone! I'm with you."

I roll my eyes. "Come on. Where are your girls?"

He lets out a nervous chuckle and begins stabbing his drink with a straw. "I'm not seeing anyone special, Abby. It's been a while—"

"You know what I mean. Your regular! Two girls for nights like this?" I tap his elbow, but Nate shakes his head and looks away. Then it dawns on me. "Ah, got it. You haven't met them yet. You're on the hunt."

"I'm not," he insists, still stirring his drink. Is he blushing? Why is he blushing? Nate sighs, sets down his glass, and turns his chair to face me. "Look, Abby, I'm done with one-night-stands and meaningless relationships. I haven't been out with anyone since your birthday. And even then, I left those models at their hotels and went straight home—"

"I slept with Roman."

What in the fucking world is wrong with me?

The roots of my hair catch on fire as heat floods my cheeks. I take a deep, shaky breath, but it doesn't help. I'm drowning.

Nate stares at me blankly. His blinking intensifies as if he's trying to process my words. "What? Wha— You...what?"

My heartbeat thrums in my ears. A lump forms in my throat, and it won't go away unless I spill the rest. "On my birthday. I... He... We... We had sex. He came over, and we... We slept together."

Nate's jaw hangs open. Here it comes. I shut my eyes and brace myself as chills creep all over me, numbing my hands and feet. Every nerve in my body stings with pins and needles. I know what he's going to say. That I fucked up. Not just any chance we had together, but also our friendship. That I disgust him. So much that he can't even bear to look at me. He's going to agree with Roman, saying that I'm nothing. A nobody. I don't deserve to be loved. That I should drown in this dark hell Roman triggered in me forever, and leave Nate the fuck alone.

But he remains silent. I hear the scrape of his barstool against the carpet as he rises.

"I don't know what to say," he breathes out, then starts walking away.

I jump to my feet and chase after him.

"Just say it!" I burst out, reaching for his arm. "Say it, Nate! Tell me you hate me. Say you never want to see me again. Call me a whore for sleeping with you and your brother. Tell me how stupid I am for falling for someone who is engaged to someone else!"

Nate's eyes widen as all color drains from his face. Is he going to start yelling? Because I deserve it. My heart pounds frantically.

He takes a step back, then reaches for the back of my neck and pulls me into his chest. His arms wrap around me tightly, drawing me deeper. His fresh, salty, oceanic scent surrounds me. I'm still drowning—guilt and desperation churn in my gut, rise in my throat and stream down my cheeks, but this time, I'm not alone. Nate is here. His white shirt will be wet and stained with my mascara by the time I finish crying... I hate myself even more for ruining his clothes too, after ruining his night.

"It's going to be okay." Nate's deep voice surrounds me, soothing my wounded soul. "You're going to be okay."

I wrap my arms around his waist. Nate kisses the top of my head and gently brushes away the loose strands of my hair. "We are human," he says. "We make mistakes. Stop beating yourself up. You are not stupid or a whore."

Is he trying to console me?

I lift my head to meet his gaze. A faint smile graces his lips while he swipes his thumbs under my eyes, wiping away the sticky mascara. "I'm not gonna lie, it hurts to imagine you with my brother. But shit happens. You're a good person, Abby. You're my favorite person."

He is an angel. But he doesn't know me. I'm not good at all. I'm shitty, weak, and pitiful... I shake my head and pull away from Nate's embrace. I'm not sure how I'm still standing with my knees trembling like that. Nate's grip tightens around me when I lose my balance, then he guides me to sit on a barstool.

"Tell me," he says, standing by my chair and handing me my drink. "Is that why you really went to Philadelphia?"

I nod and take a sip of my cocktail. "He showed up at Dad's house to invite us to the ball—offered me to be his...mistress."

"Okay," Nate says, leaning back against the bar. Even though he's only uttered one word, there's judgement in his tone. And it stings.

I roll my eyes as the unspoken question hangs in the prolonged silence. "Of course I said no, Nate."

He nods, flashing me a glowing grin. "Yeah, you deserve better."

If only it were as easy to believe as it is to say...

"What do you see in him?" he asks.

I sigh and meet Nate's green eyes. His sincerity tempts me to explain everything—our burning souls, the divine connection and my wicked dreams... But he'd probably think I'm crazy.

So instead, I say, "Myself. Pieces of me." My gaze drifts to my empty cocktail glass. "A longing to belong. A fire that consumes him, the same way it consumes me when I'm lost in my thoughts and emotions. A broken child with shattered dreams. I thought we could dream together." I wipe away the tears with the back of my hand.

Now that it's out, my chest feels ten times lighter. The air around me seems cooler. I close my eyes and enjoy in one of life's simplest and most primal needs. Breathe. My lungs expand gloriously as I suck in a deep breath, and exhale.

I'm not drowning anymore.

When I open my eyes, Nate is smiling at me. He cups my cheek and presses a gentle kiss to the corner of my eye.

"Yeah," he says, taking my hand and helps me up to my feet. "You're going to be okay."

"Where are we going?" I ask, forcing a smile.

Nate shoots me a grin over his shoulder. "Food. I don't know about you, but I'm starving."