“Dad,” I say again, sitting down beside Nick on the love seat.

“All I want,” Dad says, looking at both of us, “is to know someone’s taking care of you when I’m not around.”

I press my lips together and hope that if I just shut my eyes tight enough, this moment will be over. I won’t be stuck here beside Nick, both of us listening to my dad mistake him for a long-ago boyfriend and—

“Mr. Sanderson,” Nick says, interrupting my depressing train of thought. “Forgive me if this sounds rude, but Chloe has no problem taking care of herself. I’ve known her way less time than you have, and even I know that.”

My dad smiles a little. “Well, that’s true, but still. I just want some sort of promise that you’re not jerking her around, you know?”

Nick grabs my hand, making me jump, and he leans forward toward my dad. “I promise you,” he says, looking my dad straight in the eyes. “I’m going to take care of Chloe for as long as she’ll let me.”

I’m glad Nick isn’t looking at me, because my jaw has permanently dropped to the floor. I know Nick and I just agreed to never do anything physical again, but right now I’m filled with the urge to rip every single last item of his clothing off his body. I’ve been part of several sextual conversations that were hot enough to almost make my phone spontaneously combust, but I’ve never heard anything as sexy as what Nick just said. I can think of about five hundred ways I’d like him to take care of me right now, and none of them involve buying me breakfast or making the hotel bed.

But instead of saying that, I just force myself to close my mouth as my dad says, “Well, it’s not a proposal, but I’ll take what I can get. Chloe, you’ve got a good one here.”

I shake my head, remembering where we are and what’s happening. Right. We’re sitting across from my dad in an assisted living facility, and he thinks Nick is my high school boyfriend, and also he’s engaging in paternalistic thinking that I would definitely complain about if not for his health.

Nick’s hand is still on mine, and he rubs my thumb with his in a gesture that feels both casual and electrifying. This is real for now, I tell myself. This is real in this room, in front of Dad. Just pretend. Just let yourself.

We talk to my dad a little longer before we leave. I make him promise not to touch the buttons on his remote even as I know that his promise means nothing. Nick puts his arm around my shoulder as we walk down the hallway, and I don’t say anything. I can’t say anything. Tracey sees us coming and stares, her mouth attempting to form words, and I widen my eyes in an attempt to communicate that I’ll explain all this to her later.