8The green numerals on my digital clock read 5:13. Above me, floorboards creaked. A toilet flushed. Water pipes hummed, signaling Warren had turned on his shower.
In the dark, I found my jeans and a sweater. I pulled on my windbreaker and collected my sneakers. I was in the vestibule tightening the Velcro on my right shoe when Warren came downstairs.
The muscle in his jaw tightened. He paused and zipped up his parka, glaring at me. Jerking his chin in a gesture somewhere between irritation and resignation, he led me outside.
During the night, the false spring had given way to a cold and steady rain. The driveway was puddled with standing water. My face and my sneakers were wet by the time I slipped into the BMW. I stared out the window as Warren drove through the empty streets. The veil
