Page 23 of Feels Like Falling
“I dunno, but I’d hurry…” Montana disappears from the doorway, and I snatch up some clothes from my bag and head into the bathroom to change. I don’t have anywhere to be today, and it feels so good.
Splashing some cold water on my face, I can’t help but smile at the reflection staring back at me. Her face isn’t contoured within an inch of her life, she’s not wearing some death-trap spandex, and she definitely doesn’t have to report back to her parents about theconnectionsshe made at some overpriced gala dinner.
She lookshappy.
To be fair, any woman who got to curl up in Montana Greene’s arms would probably look pretty happy. But it’s not any woman.
It’s me.
A whistle sounds from down the hall again, and I spit my toothpaste into the sink before checking my reflection once more. Tucking everything into my bag, I make my way into the kitchen and find Grandad at the stove. He points to a cup of coffee without turning to look at me.
“Coffee’s there, Dolly.”
“How did you know I was here?” I ask as Hermie bulldozes into me the only way a puppy can, his tongue licking at my hand as I scrunch his face and coo sweet nothings.
“Stop givin’ him a complex,” Grandad grumbles, and I cover Hermie’s ears.
“He didn’t mean that. You’re the goodest boy, aren’t you? Yes you are,” I say in the most obnoxious baby voice I can manage.
Grandad harrumphs, and I laugh as a gray-haired woman comes into the kitchen, an apron with chickens printed on the red-and-white fabric tied around her waist.
“Let me guess—nothing you’re making is on your doctor’s recommended meal list,” she says with a familiarity that makes my chest ache—because I don’t know her.
I missed this part of their lives.
“Oh, good morning, sweetheart. How are you?” Her smile is warm and falls somewhere between Montana’s mama and his Nan. “I’m Celeste and I watch over these hellions.”
“Hi Celeste,” I say, giving her a shy wave. “I’m Ellison.” Her eyes widen and she hustles around the table to wrap me in a hug.
“TheEllison?” she asks when she pulls away. Her hands rest on my shoulders and she holds me at arm’s length as she takes me in before a smile spreads across her kind face.
“Oh Lord, you’ve seen her picture. You know who the girl is,” Grandad bemoans over the bacon sizzling in the pan.
“Just for that, I’m makin’ that tofu stir-fry you love so much for dinner. Balance out your attitude that you seem to be serving with breakfast this morning.”
My eyes widen and my lips part as I stare at her. Celeste winks as she takes my hand and leads me to the table to sit.
“Now tell me all about yourself,” she says as Grandad places a cup of coffee in front of her without a word.
Their dynamic is unexpected—with him being more than a decade her senior—but I sort of love it.
“Oh, umm, Montana and I were best friends growing up, and my parents and I used to live next door. They rent the place now.”
“Damn kids were sneaking in and out of their houses a couple times a week,” Grandad says as he places two eggs sunny-side up in front of me with grape jelly and buttered toast and three slices of perfectly cooked bacon.
It’s stupid but my eyes well with tears because I haven’t sat at this table for breakfast in years, yet he remembered. My parents couldn’t be bothered to remember my birthday without consulting their calendar, but this man who has always just loved me like his own remembers how I like my eggs. Pushing back from the table, I wipe the tears away and then wrap my arms tight around Grandad’s neck.
He still smells like aftershave, and I appreciate the fact that he doesn’t tell meit’s just breakfastbecause we both know it’s not.
“Missed you, kid.” I nod against his shoulder as I inhale again just because I can. He squeezes me tight then eases me back toward the table. “Go eat before it gets cold.”
Celeste’s eyes twinkle as I take my seat and shove a piece of bacon into my mouth. Grandad places a plate in front of her, and she thanks him before he settles in himself with a plate far more reasonable than I expected.
“Is that…fruit?” I ask with my coffee cup halfway to my lips. Celeste smirks and Grandad points his fork at me.
“Mind your business.”
I giggle and he hides his amusement by taking a bite of his wheat toast.
