“This isn’t your dad,” she says, her voice trembling.
Calan rubs his eyes. He feels his eyelids fluttering. “Mom, I was there—”
“This isn’t your dad.” She clears her throat. The next words she says are full of conviction and pain. “Calan, this is your Uncle Nick.”
Forty-Four
Gina
Friday, November 1st
The first time Gina saw Nick she forgot how to breathe.
She’d been at NYU for a week—orientation week, to be exact. Everything around her was both thrilling and scary. Gina still hadn’t decided whether she was making the biggest mistake of her life or the best decision yet.
She spent hours walking around campus, taking in its corners and occupants in a way that, she knew, gave her away as a doe-eyed girl from Utah. It had been hammered into her that a Mormon going to college anywhere but BYU was the surest way to make one feel like a fish out of water. And, to some extent, it was true—she may have been stripped of her status within the Church, but she couldn’t be stripped of her upbringing.
Gina had heard plenty of stories about the outside world and so she hadn’t been surprised when she ran into a gaggle of giggling girls in short shorts and even shorter skirts, chatting excitedly about parties and predicting they’d “get wasted.” She hadn’t been shocked when she met Amanda, her emo roommate (Gina learned what that meant as soon as the girl introduced herself, and only because Amanda had been kind enough to explain it). She hadn’t been stunned by the ease with which young men and women used profanity, or the casual way they engaged in sexual relations.
What had surprised her was how happy she was to be there.
She was different than everyone else, with her long skirts and buttoned-up shirts and her distaste for coffee. Still, for the first time in her life, Gina felt like she belonged.
Gina first saw Nick on a Tuesday, standing outside a seminar room. The air left her lungs the second she laid eyes on him. It wasn’t his good looks, though he had that in spades. It was something about his energy—his devil-may-care attitude, his cool knowingness. There was a magnetic air to him, as if the sun itself would willingly follow him wherever he went.
“You’ll catch flies with that mouth,” said Tina.
Tina was a petite, gamine sophomore at NYU who had volunteered as a peer mentor during orientation week. She wasn’t as hyped-up as most of the freshmen, which Gina found refreshing.
“Damn, he’s hot,” said Polly, following her gaze. Polly was at least one foot taller than Tina, but she had big cheeks and eyes that made her look sixteen.
Gina felt herself blush.
Tina pursed her lips. “He’s trouble.”
“Not a problem,” Polly said, flipping her red hair.
“I’m serious. He’s a misogynist who marks women like a dog peeing on a fire hydrant. I’d stay away if I were you,” Tina said.
Polly made a face. “Ew, he pees on them?”
“No, dummy, it’s an expression.” Tina rolled her eyes.
Polly looked at Gina. “You calling dibs?”
Gina had about a million questions. What was his name? His major? He was too cool-looking to be a freshman, so was he a sophomore like Tina? Had she gone out with him? But she found herself unable to form a coherent sentence. It wasn’t an exaggeration: she had forgotten how to breathe.
“If you’re not, then I am,” Polly said.
“I might as well tell you, that’s Nick Dewar.” Tina said his name like it was supposed to mean something.
Polly brought her hand to her chest. “Shit, like a Dewar Dewar?”
Gina looked at the two women, confusion building up. “What does that mean?”
Polly stared at Gina like she was a little green person walking out of a spaceship.
“Dewar as in Alma Boots?” Tina said, her tone indicating that Gina was an idiot. “Like one of the most recognizable names in America?”
“No, yeah,” Gina said, feeling her face grow even redder. She had heard of Alma Boots, of course. She owned a pair of their sheepskin boots. But the family name hadn’t meant anything to her.
“So is he, like, the heir to the company?” Polly asked.
“Yep,” Tina said. “That’s about the only thing he has going for him, though. He’s a dick.” She spoke through gritted teeth.
Gina studied Nick again. He was wearing blue jeans and a green T-shirt that matched his eyes. He had the broad shoulders and squared chin of a leading man. He was tall, probably around 6’2”, and had a slim, yet strong build. He reminded Gina of a Viking. The most intoxicating, gorgeous Viking she’d ever seen.
Tina was looking at him with a sneer. “He got a girl pregnant last year and offered to pay for her abortion but said he wouldn’t go with her to the clinic because he was going skiing with friends.”
Gina felt the weight of Tina’s words sink in. She had heard the same story last week from one of the RAs, though he hadn’t mentioned Nick by name. Of all the things she had been warned about before coming to New York City, this was the only one she feared. That guy. Not just the bad boy, but a cruel man. And what could be crueler than abandoning the mother of your child? Gina mentally chided her own heart for having been attracted to him in the first place, though she also reasoned that this had to be fairly common. These men knew how to attract women without uttering a single word. But she would not let herself be a victim. She had no interest in being Mormon, not after what the Church did to her brother—but she still wanted to be worthy, to be virtuous.
Gina resolved to stay away from Nick—a resolve that did not waver even after she found out he was in her Women’s Studies class and they were assigned to work on a group project together. She still felt attracted
