My clothes feel sticky when I put them on. I could fetch a new set from the never-ending wardrobe—a parting gift—but can’t convince myself they wouldn’t feel worse than what I’m wearing. When I get downstairs, I carry my shoes, so they don’t tap against the clean tiles.
“Zach? That you?”
Leonard Cameron strides out of the kitchen and I do a double take. He’s the mirror image of his son or, to be more accurate, Zach’s the mirror image of him. The peppering of grey along his temples does nothing to lessen the impact of his good looks. No wonder he can pull women a decade younger, even without the money.
“You’re Lilac?”
I nod and edge towards the door. It seems a waste of time to go through introductions when I’m never stepping foot inside this house again. “Nice to meet you, Mr Cameron. I’m just leaving.”
“Zach’s not with you?”
“No. He’s at school.” I pause, expecting a barrage of questions about why I’m not there with him, but the man just leans back towards the kitchen. “You want some breakfast?”
I want to say no, but my stomach growls with impeccably bad timing.
“Even if that’s not a yes, please come join me. I hate eating alone.”
Curious despite myself, I tag along in his footsteps and take a seat at the breakfast bar. The stools are built for him and his son’s height, leaving my feet dangling loosely far away from any support.
“You go to McKenzie, too?”
“Yeah. Just for the past month. Before that, I went to Shirley.”
“Zach mentioned you shared a flat near school. Your parents don’t mind?”
“They’re dead.”
He stares at me, no change in expression. Taking his cue from my lack of emotion, he just says, “I guess not, then.”
Without me asking, he loads a bowl with cereal and spreads slices of hot toast with butter before shoving the plates my way. “How’d you like your eggs?”
I’m already staring at more food than I usually eat, but since this is my last visit, I may as well take advantage. While stuffing my face, it’s hard to dwell on everything that’s gone wrong with my life. “Over easy.”
“Did the lawyer help?”
I shake my head, raising a hand to my mouth as I finish chewing. “No. Just told me I’d stuffed up any chance I had with my sister and to count myself lucky if I ever got visitation again.”
“Sounds about right, bloody vultures.” He pours me a coffee and adds milk without asking, sliding it across to me. “And I’m allowed to say that, because I am one.”
“Mm. Zach said.” Either that, or I’d inferred it from the level of vitriol he held for the profession.
“You’re good for him, you know. All the other girls, they come in and out of here and make him more miserable, if that’s even possible. But ever since he met you, he’s been better. Seems to be finding himself finally, instead of spinning around, raging at the world.”
“We’re not together, Mr Cameron.”
He raises one sculpted eyebrow while his lips twist. “Call me Leonard.” A sip of coffee extends into a long pause. “Is that right?”
“Not after last night.”
“What’d he do? If you don’t mind me—”
“I do mind, actually.” I stuff the rest of the slice into my mouth and chew hurriedly, wanting to get out of there.
His hand grips mine. Gentle, but there’s a touch of iron at the ready. “Tell me. Maybe I can help.”
“It’s not something you can fix.”
His eyes drop from my face, staring at my outfit, then rise to meet my gaze again. “What if you were his girlfriend on a more… professional basis?”
