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upstairs, he’d left me at my door, promising we’d talk again in the morning. 
     
    Because I was feeling foolish and ashamed, I avoided breakfast and arrived late in the kitchen.  I’d just grab coffee and a piece of fruit, then hide in my room for the rest of the day. 
     
    Only, Warren was still seated at the kitchen table, a newspaper spread in front of him, a carafe of coffee and a full cup beside his elbow.  “Were you trying to avoid me?” 
     
    I fought a smile.  This morning, I didn’t feel quite so bleak.  Strangely, a feeling approaching happiness warmed me.  I gave him a slight smile.  “Did you drink all the coffee?”
     
    “Bring a cup.  Sit with me.” 
     
    His words were a little terse, which shaved an edge off my lighter mood.  I got a cup from the cupboard, then wondered where cook was.  Warren must have sent her away to keep our conversation private.
     
    I took my time picking up and smelling fruit before I selected a kiwi and took a seat beside Warren at the table. 
     
    He poured me a cup of coffee, but I waved away the tray of sugar and other condiments.  I wasn’t a child who needed to doctor my coffee any longer.  I preferred it black. 
     
    I took a sip, still avoiding his gaze. 
     
    “Have you decided which college you’re going to attend in the fall?” 
     
    I shook my head.  “Not yet.  I was hoping—” 
     
    “Decide.  We need to get you moved.” 
     
    “Wow.”  My mood soured. I set down my cup.  “I didn’t even finish my coffee and already you’re shoving me out the door again?”
     
    “You’ll be safer.” 
     
    “I’m safe here.  I told you—I won’t be seeing him again.” 
     
    “I’ll arrange an apartment and security.  You can take the next couple of months to acclimate to your new home.” 
     
    I slumped in my chair.  “I don’t want a new home.” 
     
    His gaze narrowed on my face. 
     
    “Do you hate me so much?” 
     
    “I don’t hate you.”  His glance veered away.  A muscle at the side of his jaw tensed. 
     
    “But you can’t wait to see the last of me.” 
     
    “That’s not true.”
     
    “From where I’m sitting, it’s exactly the truth.”  I shoved my cup away, not caring when the coffee sloshed over the rim to stain the white linen tablecloth.  “Grass hadn’t even grown over my mother’s grave before you bundled me up and abandoned me on the steps of that boarding school prison.” 
     
    I shook with anger, and my voice was rising, but I didn’t care.  “Had you been itching for years to see the last of my mother and me? I was fourteen and you denied me the comfort of familiar surroundings while I mourned?”
     
    “I didn’t hate your mother, and I didn’t want you to go, but... there were complications that had to be handled.  Things you… didn’t need to know.”
     
    “Well, I’m not a kid anymore Warren.  Tell me now.  Make me understand why you’ve been such a bastard.” 
     
    “This is hard for me to say.”  He pushed up from the table and went to the bay window overlooking the garden.  “I don’t won’t to hurt you.” 
     
    “Too late for that.  The truth, Warren.  Please.” 
     
    “Before they died in that... accident… our parents were talking about divorce.” 
     
    I blinked, feeling as though a wave of cold water washed over me.  “What are you talking about?”
     
    “Liza was having an affair.  My father found out.”
     
    I opened my mouth to say it was impossible, but caught myself.  Of course it was possible.  My mother was a slut who’d slept her way higher and higher up the food chain. 
     
    “Is there a reason I needed to know that now?”  I asked, doing my best to sound calm. 
     
    “Your mother was with her lover that night.”  He turned his head to meet my gaze.  “She wasn’t supposed to be in father’s car.  But she called him from the hotel, and begged his forgiveness.  He went to retrieve her.  The