The rain beats relentlessly against the windows of my off-campus apartment as I pace the living room, cell phone clutched tightly in my hand. My father's latest text message burns into my retinas: Chris will be there within the hour to stay with you until this situation with Bryan is resolved.

Situation. As if my toxic ex-boyfriend showing up at my last party uninvited, screaming obscenities until campus security escorted him away constitutes a 'situation' requiring surveillance. I'm twenty-two years old, a senior at Yale, perfectly capable of handling my own problems.

The doorbell rings, and I freeze. This is it. The beginning of my sentence with Chris Collins - my father's best friend, business partner, and designated babysitter. I smooth my hair nervously and take a deep breath before opening the door, already plotting my escape strategy.

There he stands on the threshold, rain-soaked and imposing, those silver-streaked dark hairs I've privately mocked now glistening with water droplets. His eyes meet mine with that infuriating mix of concern and authority that makes me want to both scream and... something else I refuse to acknowledge.