Page 4 of Feels Like Falling
“We have a reputation to uphold,” my mother hisses, and I nudge my father’s leg under the table with my foot. He rolls his eyes when she’s not looking, and I hide my snicker by shoving an unladylike bite of ravioli into my mouth.
God, I’ll miss the ravioli.
I want to laugh at the ridiculousness of that statement, but there’s no use in drawing more unwanted attention to myself.
My phone buzzes in my purse, and it takes everything in me to ignore it. There’s only one person who knows where I am right now.
He also knows it will drive me crazy not being able to check the damn thing until I’m out of here.
“While I appreciate everything you’ve done for me,” I say calmly, “I don’t fit into all this. It’s not who I am and it never has been.” I sigh as I look around the lavishly designed space. My mother would probably have a heart attack right here at the table if she found out that I’d sold or donated most of the designer clothes that had lined my oversized closet.
I’d kept my favorite pieces and a dress that I’d worn once and couldn’t seem to part with, but there was nothing else I’d need from that era of my life when I returned to Blackstone Falls.
“You have a long drive ahead of you,” my father says, and my mother huffs before taking another sip of her drink.
With agonizing slowness, we manage to finish our meals—my father and I polishing off the meager servings and my mother never once raising her fork more than a few inches off her plate before setting it down again.
It was a routine I wouldn’t miss.
Walking out of the restaurant and handing my ticket to the valet, I turn my face up to the sun with a smile.
I’m free.
“Happy looks good on you, kid.” My father’s voice is low, but sincerity rings in his words.
“I’m excited to go home,” I say and he nods, completely unsurprised by my declaration. “Come watch me play tennis?”
His lips tip up in the corner and he dips his head. “I’d like that.”
“Evan.” My mother’s voice is shrill as she steps out of the air conditioning of the restaurant as their car is brought to the front. “It’s time to go. Ellison,”—she gives me an air kiss—“let me know if you change your mind about that dinner.”
I give her a placating expression as the valet holds open her door and she climbs inside. Turning toward me, my father opens his arms, and I step into them without hesitation.
“Why won’t you leave her?” I ask quietly, and my father’s body stiffens before he pulls back to look at me.
“It’s complicated.” Taking a deep breath, he forces a smile as he adds, “And right now we’re focusing on you getting settled and then seeing what your tennis schedule looks like.”
“It’s a deal.”
Hugging me once more, my father places a kiss on the top of my head before tipping the valet as my car is brought up. It’s not until they’re out of sight that I take my first full breath of the morning. Pulling out my phone, I grin as I read the message from my best friend.
MONTANA: Your ass looks great in that dress (heart eye emoji)
ELLISON: How do you know I’m wearing a dress?
I snickeras I look down at my floral-printed dress and snap a picture.
MONTANA: Your ass would look great in pants too
MONTANA: But it’s summer in Savannah and you always wear dresses to brunch
ELLISON: (selfie showing off dress)
ELLISON: It’s cute you know brunch attire
MONTANA: Told you your ass looks great
ELLISON: You can’t even see it
