Page 47 of Feels Like Falling
Looking around, I take in the inflatable farm animals in the yard and the battery-powered votives in the grass that spell outDate me?and smile. Between the lights and the hanging baskets we’d hung with the bright-pink and white flowers, the space is both playful and intentional.
I want Ellison to know we can still beusbut that we can be something more—everything more—because she’s my end game and I want to be hers too.
I just need to remind myself that I need to date her before I marry her.
“You know she’s gonna say yes,” Archer says from beside me after folding up the ladder and placing it in the back of the truck.
“I know,” I say, running my hand through my hair. “It’s just weird. I’ve known her for so long, and having her back feels like no time has passed—which is great—but timehaspassed. A lot of time and we keep brushing over it.”
“I don’t think there’s any right or wrong way to date your best friend. But also, you probably should take anything I say on relationships with a grain of salt considering Bea is my only reference.”
“Just because she’s your only relationship doesn’t mean you can’t offer advice. Y’all have something special, and I’m happy for you.”
He blushes as he dips his head. “Thanks. It’s too soon but I just want to marry her.” His words echo my thoughts from a moment ago.
My head whips to his, and I can’t wipe the smile off my face. “Well, when the time is right, I’m here to help construct an epic proposal.”
“I appreciate it.” Archer looks down at his watch and then holds out his hand. “I gotta head out. Good luck with Ellison.”
I take his hand and pull him in for a half hug before he gets in his truck and takes off for home.
With nothing else to do, I take a seat on the porch steps and wait for my girl.
* * *
ELLISON
After saying goodbye to Cal,I take the long way home and cruise the backroads for a while. I let my fingers dance in the breeze, the windows down ruining my perfectly styled hair from this morning, but it is so worth it.
I have a job I’m actually looking forward to, a classroom I can’t wait to decorate and…I made a friend. All my life I’ve been accepted or tolerated because of the people I was with like Montana or my parents or Blake.
But never just because ofme.
I have hope that one day I can be real friends with Bea and the guys, but right now they’re still Montana’s friends.
Cal, on the other hand, has no real ties to our little corner of Tennessee. His brave face for the world mimics my own in so many ways, and it feels good to have someone else understand—a sort of kinship. Blake understood the ins and outs of my parents’ and his parents’ world and we were close but that wasn’tme.
Not the real me anyway.
The lyrics of “Double Down” by Chris Young float around me as my car follows the road back to my cottage. I feel more settled than I have in a while, not just happy to be back but like I can breathe a little easier—like being here is the right choice.
Turning down the driveway, I let my car slow and take a couple of deep breaths as I roll along, careful not to kick up too much dirt as I go. Montana said he’d be here when I get home, but as I approach the house, I can’t help the way a laugh bursts from my lips as I stare in disbelief at the transformation.
Large inflatable cows and goats and other farm animals litter the yard, my eyes taking everything in before landing on Montana. His big body unfolds as he stands from the porch steps, and I throw my car into park before grabbing my purse and getting out.
My smile is wide, but my steps falter as my gaze snags on the candles set out in front of the inflatables.
Date me?
“I realized,” Montana says slowly in that southern drawl I love so much, forcing my gaze to his, “that I’ve never taken you out on a date.”
“We’ve gone out before,” I say with a frown.
“Nothing that was real and intentional.” Taking a step closer, he laces his fingers with mine, pulling me to face him. “I want to take you on a date. One where you fuss over what you’re gonna wear, and I take the truck to get washed before knockin’ on your door with flowers, wearin’ my good jeans to pick you up.”
My lips part because while I’ve gone out on countless dates, no one has ever made my heart race in my chest like the man before me. “That sounds nice,” I manage and he grins, “but I think you still need to ask me.”
“Ellison,”—he says my name with reverence and the air pulses with the intensity of this moment—“will you go out with me?”
