It was the day of my departure from home. I'd spent nearly an hour packing my things and chose to take an extra suitcase with me back home since dad and Aunt Delancey had bought me a tower of my favourite candy and snacks. I was unaware as to how they knew any of this information about me but chose not to complain since it was free food. The two of them were planning on moving into Aunt Delancey's mansion in a few weeks after a court case for a restraining order against Francis would be settled.

When I'd finally finished packing the last of my items, I stretched and stood up to check the time. That was when I heard the door to my room swing open. I didn't bother to check who it was.

"Dad, what are you doing in here?" I questioned, making a mental note of how I only had another two hours left. I'd have to leave for the train station soon. 

"It's not your father," a feminine voice responded. 

I froze for a moment before turning around and glancing at her for only a moment, "Aunt Delancey."

She pursed her lips. Probably because I still chose to refer to her as my aunt. To me, that was all she was. I still had no way of proving that she had changed for the better. Yet, I also had no way of proving that she hadn't changed at all. 

"What is it?" I mumbled, gathering my luggage. 

"I just wanted to talk for a bit," she admitted. "Can I sit?" 

I nodded and watched as she took a seat on the edge of my bed. She clasped her hands and placed them on her lap, looking down at the floor.

"I know it's going to be difficult for you to accept the fact that I am now a part of your family. I know I've said things that have hurt you in the past and I can't explain how much I regret everything I've done and said. You're probably unwilling to accept me as a member of your family and I don't blame you, but I really, really do love your father. I would never deliberately do something to hurt the two of you," she took a deep breath. "And since my baby will be here soon, I hope you'll be able to accept him at least if not me."

I relaxed my shoulders and looked out the window to distract myself, not saying a word. I let myself process everything she had just said to me. 

She loved my father. 

"Do you really love him?" I questioned, my voice barely above a whisper. 

I saw her nod from the corner of my eye, "I do. I really do."

"How do you know?" 

She looked confused. I cleared my throat, "How do you know that you love him?"

This question served two purposes. One, to test if she really did love my father. Two, to know what it feels like to love somebody. To know if my feelings for Warren are really platonic at all. 

"Your father is the best person I have ever met," she began. "I've never wanted to be with someone else romantically like I have with your father. I've never wanted to care for someone this much, not even close friends of mine. He brings out the best in me."

I gestured for her to continue. 

"I feel like I can truly be myself around him. Even now, my heart races when I see him," she confessed. I noticed she was getting embarrassed. "I would do anything for him.. and for you. You guys are my family."

Upon noticing my silence, she tilted her head at me, "Why are you asking me this question?"

"Because I think I might like someone," I confessed straightforwardly. "A guy."

I half expected her to say something demeaning or give me a strange look. Instead, she smiled, "He won't know unless you tell him."

"I don't know how to."

She stood up and made her way over to the door, "When the time comes, you will." I watched her leave.

I thought about Warren. 

Was he the best person I had ever met? Yes.

Do I want to be with him? Maybe.

Can I be myself around him? Yes.

Does my heart race when I see him? Yes.

Do I want to take care of him? Yes.

With strings attached? Yes.