Chapter 3

three

Fallon had a glass of wine in front of her before Savannah even showed up. Pressing the glass to her lips, Fallon eyed Savannah over the brim as the harried woman in question made her way into the room. Had Fallon really thrown her off that much in the short time they’d known each other?

If she had, Savannah deserved it.

It was payback for the way she’d thrown Fallon off at the cemetery.

“Sorry. Finding a place to park was rough.” Savannah grinned as she slid a small hook out of her purse and set it on the edge of the table before hanging her purse from it.

Fallon eyed the entire sequence of events carefully. Savannah seemed to come prepared in her unpreparedness. Fallon had never seen a woman who was more of a conundrum. Saying nothing, she took a long sip of the wine and hummed inwardly. It was a good flavor. Athena had done well to suggest that she come here. She’d wanted to try it ever since she learned what they were building in this space.

“I’m glad you agreed to talk with me,” Savannah started, nervously smoothing her hands over the napkin in front of her. Her lips parted like she was going to say something else, but the waiter interrupted her.

“Can I get you anything?”

“Oh, um…” Savannah’s cheeks pinked. “I don’t normally drink wine. What do you suggest?”

The waiter didn’t seem fazed, much to Fallon’s surprise.

“I can bring you a few samples if you’d like, or you can trust my judgment.”

“I’ll trust you.” Savannah smiled, her eyes wide and open. “I tend to like fruitier and lighter flavors.”

“I have the perfect thing. Be right back.” The waiter skittered off.

Goosebumps rose along Fallon’s arms. She would never trust anyone to just pick her drink based on one quick conversation like that. She would analyze everything before she made a decision, exactly like she had before coming here. How many times had she looked at their wine list online? Too many to count was the answer.

“I’m sorry about earlier. I didn’t mean to scare you at the cemetery.”

Oh, they were back to that. Fallon set her glass down on the table. “I should have recognized your name from the appointment.”

“You were upset. It’s reasonable to think you weren’t in the right frame of mind to make that connection.” Savannah again played her hands over the table. Was it nerves or just habit? Fallon wasn’t sure now.

Fallon knew better. Athena expected better, and she had caused a scene today. Athena hadn’t seemed angry about it, not like she had on occasions before when Fallon hadn’t done well at her job. Perhaps it was because now she knew why Fallon had been so upset by this situation.

“Fallon?” Savannah asked.

Clearing her throat, Fallon realized belatedly that this was going to have to be a two-way conversation. She finished her drink, and when the waiter appeared with Savannah’s, Fallon ordered another one that she had wanted to try.

“Do you accept my apology?”

“I accept that you didn’t understand what you were doing,” Fallon answered, clicking her tongue on the roof of her mouth. Savannah’s face fell, and there was a small pang of guilt over it, but Fallon pushed it to the side. She didn’t want to feel that.

“I think most of us are pretty clueless, especially about death when it happens unexpectedly and at such a young age.” Savannah’s words sliced through her.

Fallon stilled. She locked her eyes on Savannah’s. “Your suit with Athena?”

Savannah nodded. “My brother died about six months ago. Pancreatic cancer.”

Raising an eyebrow, Fallon stayed right where she was. Culture would dictate that she give condolences, but she really didn’t want to. She hated them when she’d been grieving, and even afterward, when she’d have to tell people that her mother was dead. She took her fresh glass of wine and swallowed a sip.

The flavor bloomed on her tongue. She had to hand it to them, this wine bar might be her new favorite place.

“Does it ever get easier?” Savannah asked.

“Does what get easier?” Fallon responded, setting her glass on the table and shifting in the hard wooden chair.

“Feeling like they’re missing out on things they shouldn’t.”

That stabbed Fallon right in the heart. How many times had she had that very same thought? Monti hadn’t seemed to care, but she’d never formed a strong bond with their mother. If something exciting happened, Monti would call Tia. But Fallon always had that initial instinct to tell their mom.

Fallon nodded at Savannah’s wine. “Do you like it?”

Savannah shrugged slightly. “I’m not a huge fan of wine.”

“So that’s a no.”

“I didn’t say that. It’s one of the better ones that I’ve had.” Savannah hadn’t dropped her gaze. “I take it from your avoidance of the answer that it doesn’t get easier.”

“No, it doesn’t.” Fallon’s voice was rough. It hurt to say those words out loud. She dropped her gaze to the table, unable to maintain the look. “I was nine when my mother died, and I still wish she was here to see what I’ve accomplished.”

“My brother has—had—five kids.”

“Then I deeply understand their pain.” Fallon picked up her glass again, using it as a barrier between Savannah and these probing questions. She had to pull herself back together because she was talking too much and oversharing for sure.

“I’m sure you do.” Savannah rubbed her lips together, still not really touching her wine. It seemed as though she wanted to say something, but Fallon could only imagine what that was.

This was awkward at best. The only thing making it worthwhile so far was the fact that Fallon was experiencing MILF Wine for the first time.

“I really didn’t mean to offend you earlier.”

“When earlier?” Fallon probed, needing to know exactly what Savannah was talking about.

“At the cemetery. It was an honest mistake, and I overcorrected.” She gave a small smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “I… I’m sorry, this really is odd.”

“It is.” But somewhere in the center of Fallon’s chest, she appreciated this for what it was. There was no doubt that Savannah was being authentic right now. No one would paint themselves in this bad light willingly.

“My daughter would call me sus right about now.” Savannah’s lips curled up as her gaze was downcast, her cheeks reddening from embarrassment.

Fallon frowned and stared into the wine in her glass. She couldn’t decide if she needed a translation of the word sus or an explanation of the fact that this woman had a daughter. Then again, why should that be odd? She was clearly about the age to have a younger child, and she’d spoken of her brother’s kids. For some reason, Fallon hadn’t expected that.

“What is sus ?” Fallon finally asked, choosing the easier of the two.

“Suspicious.” Savannah rolled her eyes, her plump lips spreading into a smile. “It’s taken me a while to understand the new slang the kids are using these days. But I work with kids often, so it’s helpful.”

Fallon gnawed on the inside of her cheek before setting her wine glass down. She pointedly looked at Savannah’s left hand, finding no ring there, though that didn’t always mean a whole lot nowadays. “You work with kids?”

“I run Elite Skate. We train and coach kids and young adults in competitive figure skating.” Savannah’s voice had never sounded more confident in the short time Fallon had known her. “I’ve been in the Executive Director position for seven years now.”

Fallon never would have had those opportunities growing up. It had always been slim pickings in what Tia could afford for them to do. She’d taken dance, of course, since Tia could teach them that for free, but that was it. Even finding an instrument for the required music classes in school had been a task.

“My daughter has zero interest in ice skating,” Savannah rambled on. “I’ve tried for years to get her to take a couple advanced classes, and she wants nothing to do with it.”

“I didn’t continue with dance.” Fallon finished her second glass of wine and ordered a third.

“I’m sorry?”

Fallon shook her head, realizing far too late that Savannah wasn’t privy to the thoughts in her head. “My aunt is a dance instructor, so naturally my sister and I took years of dance. Monti through high school, but I stopped as soon as I hit sixth grade. I had no desire to be so involved in my aunt’s whims.”

“She pushed you to compete?” Savannah’s eyes widened.

“She pushed me to be there every night when I really didn’t want to be.” Fallon turned her third glass of wine in a circle with two fingers by the stem. She was already feeling the light buzz in her skull, but it was pleasant at this point. “I think it’s a common problem for kids of professional athletes or coaches.”

“It can be. They seem to either love it or hate it.” Savannah grinned, her eyes lighting up. “I don’t push it now. She’s nine, and she deserves to figure out what she wants to do and what her hobbies are.”

“And what are her hobbies?” Why was Fallon prying more into this woman’s life? She couldn’t figure it out, and yet at the same time, this conversation felt far more natural than anything else.

“She really likes drawing and art. During the summers, she does an intensive art camp for ten weeks. But she loves it.” Savannah’s cheeks tinged pink with happiness. “Do you have kids?”

Fallon shook her head. “No. I never wanted them.”

Savannah nodded like she understood. Perhaps, depending on how much research she’d done into the family and the graves, she might understand it. But not every traumatized kid became an adult who refused to perpetuate trauma by living alone either.

“Not everyone does,” Savannah finally commented, no judgment in the words, just simple acceptance. It wasn’t often that Fallon encountered that either. “I wanted at least two or three, but I’ll stick with the one I’ve got.”

“Why not have more?” Fallon sipped her wine, finally satisfied when Savannah picked up her glass and took a sip.

“My ex… well, we’ve been divorced since Brinley was seven, and separated for longer. It wasn’t really an option at that point.” Savannah played with the napkin again. “It’s something I’ve had to accept.”

“It’s hard to accept the things we can’t change,” Fallon commented.

Savannah’s eyes lit up. “It is. That’s what I’ve been working toward with my brother.”

Fallon nodded. “I’m still working on that with my mother.” There she was again, oversharing when she shouldn’t. She hadn’t even told her sister that in all the intervening years. It wasn’t helping that she’d been to her mother’s grave that afternoon and her emotions were raw and it kept her on edge.

“Was there anything when you were a kid that you wish people hadn’t said or done after your parents died?” Savannah seemed genuinely interested.

Fallon pondered the question. It was very astute, there were so many things that she could name, but she wasn’t sure where to start or which one would be the most important. She finished her third glass of wine and debated on ordering another. Savannah waved her hands in front of her.

“If that’s too personal, let me know. You don’t have to answer it.”

“It’s a good question, and while I can tell you what my experience is, I imagine it’s different for everyone. I know my sister hated to be compared—looks wise—to our mother, at least when she was a teenager. I, however, love it.”

When the waiter appeared, as if she had been called, Fallon ordered one more glass of wine and a small appetizer platter of cheeses and breads and hummus. She hadn’t planned on eating, but if she wanted to wake up in the morning without a hangover, she was going to need it.

“You’re going to have to navigate that one with each person, and be receptive when they change their minds on something. Grief is a tangled web of a journey, and it never ends.”

“I’m starting to understand that,” Savannah answered. “I really appreciate you talking with me, especially after our rough start. I wish we’d met under better circumstances.”

“I don’t think any circumstances that involve the death of a loved one can be considered good.” Fallon smiled as the food was set in front of them. She dove right in, then stared at the platter and moved it to the center of the table. “Feel free.”

“Thanks.” Savannah picked at a small piece of cut cheese. “I love gouda.”

“Me too,” Fallon answered. “I could easily live off cheese and wine for the rest of my life if my body could handle it.”

Savannah laughed lightly. “The cheese for sure for me. Not the wine, though. I much prefer a good mixed drink.”

“Pity,” Fallon answered, her voice dropping into a realm that could be considered flirting. But she couldn’t be flirting, because Fallon had decided a very long time ago that she would never fall in love. Which meant that any kind of dating and most flings were off the table. They came with far too many complications, and she didn’t want to deal with broken hearts that could potentially lead to danger.

“Do you not like mixed drinks?” Savannah asked.

“Oh, I do. But a glass of wine is sometimes exactly what I need.” Fallon lifted hers up as if to make a toast.

Savannah grinned broadly and brought her glass up to meet Fallon’s. The chink was loud before it melded into the rest of the room. The way Savannah’s lips curled up was stunning—they pulled thin at the ends, which made her full lower lip even more pronounced. Fallon could watch her smile for hours, and she was lucky enough that Savannah seemed perpetually gleeful, so she’d gotten the chance to see that beautiful smile often during their unofficial wine apology.

If only Fallon had seen it earlier in the office. But she’d been too upset, too thrown off from her typical rhythms to take note of just how beautiful Savannah was. It wasn’t just her looks though, Savannah seemed to be entirely in contrast to Fallon. The fact that she had a family, a close-knit one it seemed, and the fact that she didn’t seem weighed down with the terrors of the world.

Is this what Fallon would have turned out to be had her father not intervened?

No one would ever know. But her aunt, Tia, had often commented that she’d once been happy and outgoing before the abuse had really started to affect the family. Fallon popped another piece of cheese between her lips and moaned around it.

“Gouda is always good.”

Savannah’s responding giggle warmed her. “I will say, I do like a good sharp and aged cheddar myself.”

“Are you saying something about the romantic interests you have?” Fallon asked, keeping her eyes directly on Savannah’s. Perhaps she was too buzzed for this conversation. She’d never quite been this bold before. But she was curious about what kept Savannah coming back to beg for her forgiveness.

Savannah choked on her wine. Fallon didn’t move to help her as she cleared her throat and gathered herself together. “Are you asking if I like older women?”

Fallon didn’t respond. Instead, she carefully sipped her last glass of wine, one she was barely even tasting now.

“Then yes, older women,” Savannah agreed, her cheeks flushed with what Fallon could hope was arousal and not embarrassment. “But men my age.”

“Interesting.”

“And you?” Savannah held her ground, waiting for Fallon to answer.

Fallon finished her drink and set it on the table. She gripped the strap of her purse and pressed her lips together before standing up and leaning over where Savannah sat. “I don’t.”

“Don’t? Don’t what?” Savannah sat dumbfounded as Fallon straightened her back and started to walk away.

“I just don’t,” she called over her shoulder.