So why am I at Nate’s Hollywood Hills home? With the bakery opening soon, I need to be in New Hope preparing my business, but I can’t resist Nate’s invitations. Can’t resist his hands or his mouth. Can’t resist those precious moments I’m in Nate’s arms and I forget about my damaged heart.

Sooner or later, I’m going to stop taking these trips and accept the truth. No matter how many nights I spend with Nate, no matter how much more I feel for him, my love for Max doesn’t diminish.

I thought Nate could push Max out of my heart, but I fear that Nate’s taking up residence there without budging Max from his position. Yet every time I touch my lips to Nate’s or let his touch me, I feel like I’m putting another nail in the coffin of my relationship with Max.

The library is my favorite place in this big house. Well, my second favorite place. Nothing beats Nate’s bedroom. When I woke up this morning, I padded down here and grabbed a book off the shelf in a section that seemed to be filled with nothing but romance novels. Whoever filled this library had good taste in books.

Now I’m curled up in front of the fireplace, a steaming cup of coffee beside me, my book in my lap.

“You’re still here?”

I look up to see Janelle settling into the chair across from mine. She’s in black yoga pants and a thin, wide-necked tee, her dark hair thrown into a sloppy bun on top of her head, yet she’s still stunning. I’m more than a little jealous.

“Do you have a problem with that?” I ask.

She lifts a shoulder. “It’s Nate’s house. It doesn’t matter if I have a problem with it.”

“Do you have a problem with me?” But I don’t even care if she does. My time with Nate isn’t reality. This is just temporary. Just pretend. What some actress thinks of me will have no bearing on my life.

“No.” Her shoulders sag. “I don’t have a problem with you, Hanna. But I’m really damn curious about what hold some random chick from Podunk, Indiana, has on my brother.”

“I don’t have any hold on Nate. We’re just…” I search for a word, but there isn’t one. Fuck buddies who aren’t f**king? “We’re friends.”

“The way he looks at you is pretty damn friendly, all right.”

Jamaal appears with a silver tray holding a ceramic teapot and a mug. He sets it onto the coffee table between us and turns to me. “May I get you anything, Miss Thompson?”

I shake my head. “I’m fine.”

“Nathaniel is cooking breakfast. He’s asked me to tell you two to join him in the sunroom in thirty minutes.”

I can’t help the smile that comes over my face at the mention of Nate.

Janelle looks skeptical. “Nate’s out of bed? Before nine in the morning?”

“It appears so,” Jamaal says. He looks at me pointedly. “Someone appears to be a good influence on your brother.”

“It has nothing to do with me,” I protest. “He’s probably still on Eastern time.”

“Mmm-hmm,” Jamaal says. Then he turns and leaves the library.

When I look back to Janelle, she’s staring at me.

“What?”

“You know what I think is hilarious?” she asks. “All these women who throw themselves at my brother—the groupies and shit? They all think Nate’s this bad-boy rocker, when the truth is, half the time he’d rather hang with his comic books and his Blu-ray edition of Firefly than party with them. They have no idea who he really is or what he really likes. And he lets them believe what they do because he has no interest in letting a single one of them close to him. But then there’s you…”

“What about me?”

“You don’t think he’s some bad boy.”

I raise a brow. “He doesn’t exactly hide his inner nerd.”

She nods slowly and purses her lips.

“People see what they want to see,” I say. “If those other women think he’s a badass rocker, maybe that’s the fantasy for them.”

“Or maybe he’s just letting you close the way he’s never let anyone else.”

I shake my head. I don’t want to talk about this. Nate and I know where we stand with each other, and that’s all that matters. I don’t want to try explaining it to Janelle.

“Nate doesn’t bring women here,” she says carefully. “You know that, right?”

I frown. “The tabloids are always talking about crazy parties at his house.”

“Out back—on the patio and sometimes in the pool house. But you’re the first woman I’ve ever known him to allow inside.”

“Oh.” I’m not sure what to make of that. Nate, with his aversion to commitment and his refusal to take my virginity. “Well, maybe I’m the first woman who didn’t want anything from him.”

“Nothing but sex, I hope,” Nate says from the entrance to the library. He narrows his eyes at his sister as he crosses to us then turns his attention to me. “Don’t believe anything she says about me. It’s all lies. Except the good stuff. The good stuff is totally true.” He takes my hand and pulls me to my feet before kissing me soundly right in front of Janelle. “Come to the kitchen. I want to feed you.”

33. Max

I’M NOT the kind of guy who dreamed about becoming a father. I guess I figured I would someday, but it wasn’t something I thought much about. I definitely wasn’t in a hurry, and I certainly never thought it would happen like this.

Even after I fell for Hanna, when I knew I wanted to marry her and could see what an amazing mom she was going to make, I wasn’t in any hurry.

If I had to put money on whether or not this baby is mine, I’d feel safe wagering a good chunk on Meredith being a f**king liar. I mean, the timing makes sense—we screwed around at precisely the time she was telling Will she bought sperm—but she’s just that level of evil that I can’t take her word for it.

Fuck. It’s not her fault. She’s evil because she had to be. She had to be tough to survive. And once upon a time, that’s why I was drawn to her. We understood each other.

I tense when I hear the bell ring. It’s Meredith. I told her we could talk, and now I’m regretting doing it here and not somewhere public.

I open the door and find myself faced with a bundle of pink sitting in a floral stroller.

“Meet Claire,” Meredith whispers.

In that moment, I know without a doubt she’s mine. Hell, I’ve seen my baby pictures enough times to know what I looked like as an infant, and here’s this newborn with the same big blue eyes, the same impossibly thick mop of dark hair.

Meredith leans down, lifts the baby out of the stroller, and hands her to me. I take her, awkwardly at first until I figure out how she fits in the crook of my arm and against my chest.

She smells like baby powder, and her eyes lock on mine. Her little fingers wrap around my thumb.

Then in the space of two heartbeats and one long, ragged breath, I fall in love.

I’ve heard people describe moments like this as a moment when something shifted inside of them. But it’s not like that for me and Claire. Quite the opposite. For the first time in my life, I’m still. Everything changes. The world shifts around us and we click into place. Daughter. Father. Just like that.

“You should have told me,” I whisper. “I deserved to know.”

“I won’t let everyone in this town think I got knocked up.”

I tear my gaze away from Claire to look at her mother. “You were willing to let them believe that when they thought Will was the father.”

She frowns. “That’s different.” She holds out her hands, ready to take Claire back.

I shake my head and find my way to the couch. Claire is a month old. I’ve already missed too much. “Different because he has money,” I say softly because I don’t want to upset Claire.

“We could be together,” she says. “I’d tell everyone she’s yours if you were with us. If we could be a family.”

“I will be her family,” I tell Meredith without taking my eyes off Claire. “I don’t have to leave Hanna for that to be true.”

“Why does that fat cunt have such a hold on you?”

The fact that Claire is in my arms is the only thing that keeps me calm. I look at Meredith. I once thought she was the standard of beauty. Blond hair, blue eyes, lithe figure. But now all I see is an ugly, angry person whose former strength turned her hard and brittle.

“Get out of my house,” I say calmly. “You’re not welcome here if you talk about Hanna that way.”

“Then give me my daughter.”

I shake my head. “Go get yourself a cup of coffee or something, Mer. Claire and I have some catching up to do.”

34. Hanna

Meredith: Just left Max’s place. Thought you might want to know.

My stomach sinks as I read the words of Meredith’s text. Maybe she’s lying or maybe she’s telling the truth, but the fact of the matter is that, even though I’m the one who insisted things be over between me and Max, my stomach turns sour at the idea of him touching anyone else. Especially Meredith.

I am such a hypocrite.

Nate comes up onto the sun porch and wraps his arms around me, pulling me close until my back is against his chest. “Thank God she went to bed,” he whispers in my ear. “I thought she’d never leave.”

I lean my head against him, and he presses his mouth to the side of my neck. “Be nice to your sister,” I whisper. “She’s going through a hard time.”

“So am I,” he protests. “I’ve barely gotten to touch you all day. These are the sacrifices I make for her, and she doesn’t even appreciate it.” His hands slide under my shirt and flatten against my belly. “Come swim with me.”

“I don’t have a suit,” I object.

“Even better,” he murmurs. Then he’s pulling my shirt off over my head.

I squeak in protest, but he’s already tossed my shirt to the floor and moved to the button on my jeans. “Fine,” I say, wriggling out of my jeans, because this is just what I need to forget about that text from Meredith. Kicking my jeans to the side, I rub my backside against him and find him already hard. “But you should know I’ve never been skinny dipping before. If there’s some sort of etiquette, you need to tell me now.”

He groans and squeezes my h*ps to still them. “You keep rubbing that excellent ass of yours against me and I’m going to embarrass myself.”

I turn in his arms, biting back my grin. “Really?”

His gaze dips to my breasts. Then he steps back. I’m in nothing but my black satin bra and matching panties, and his eyes flare with heat as he runs them over me. “Take off the bra, Hanna,” he whispers.

I swallow hard and obey, unhooking the clasp at the front and freeing my heavy breasts. The bra falls from my shoulders and I wait. I’ve never liked men to look at me nude or nearly nude. I became a pro at avoiding it with Max. Why is it so different with Nate? Because he’s just a fantasy and this is just temporary?

“What about your shirt?”

He pulls the shirt off over his head and throws it across the room. “Panties,” he says, nodding.

I hook my thumbs into the satin at each hip and slowly slide them down. Nate’s gaze follows as they drop to my ankles and I step out of them.

He steps forward and crushes his mouth against mine. His fingers trail down between my br**sts and over my belly. “I need to taste you,” he murmurs.

His hand dips lower, and I back away, sidestepping his touch. “I thought we were going to swim.” I rush toward the doors, grinning at him over my shoulder.

“Imp,” he calls after me.

I run outside and across the patio to the pool. When I step into the heated water, it swirls around my ankles and my ni**les harden in the cool night air. Before I make it down the steps, Nate’s behind me. When I turn, he’s nude—glorious—his c**k jutting out between us. I want to touch him. To sink deeper into the pool and take him into my mouth while the warm water kisses my skin.

Resisting temptation, I take a shallow dive and swim to the far end before surfacing. I grab the edge of the pool then squeak when a hand wraps around my ankle.

Nate turns me around from under the water. He slowly kisses his way up my body—my thighs, my stomach, my breasts. By the time he’s broken the surface, I’m trembling and clinging to the edge.

He grins and settles his hand either side of me, blocking me in until I lace my arms behind his neck. “You’ve really never been skinny dipping?”

I shrug. “Now I have.”

“So I’m your first.”

“You’re my first a lot of things,” I whisper, my eyes dropping to his neck.

He tilts my chin up with a finger so my eyes meet his. “Like what?”

“My first rocker. My first trip to LA. My first…” I’m embarrassed to admit the truth.

“What?” he prods.

“Oral sex.” My cheeks burn.

His eyes go wide. “I’ve heard of beginner’s luck, but there’s no way—”

“No. I’d given a blowjob before. Many times. But I’d never…” This conversation is growing increasingly awkward for me, and I try to back away, but he holds me fast.

“Your boyfriend didn’t go down on you? Is he one of those idiots who thinks it’s gross?”

“No. He wanted to. I…” So embarrassing. Why did I bring this up? “I wouldn’t let him.”