She does a little happy clap, then proceeds to load up her plate until it isn’t visible anymore. I can’t help but wonder where she puts it all. She’s a skinny thing. I find myself curious if that’s what Fallon looked like at her age. It’s hard to imagine her anything but toned and strong, and devastatingly dangerous.
“What are you thinking about, Mr. O’Dea?” Fallon asks suspiciously.
Busted.
“I could tell you, but I’d have to kill you.” I flirt.
Fallon almost spits coffee all over herself. Apparently, I’m not intimidatingat all.
A dark cloud descends on the table when Liam and Nadine decide to join us. All the high spirits seem to just get shot right out of the sky. The table goes quiet except for Aisling’s “cha, cha, cha, cha,” gibberish.
It is the most awkward silence I think I have ever encountered.
No one speaks a word. We all just concentrate on our plates in front of us. It’s horribly nerve-wracking.
“Is the helicopter still on time?” Fallon directs her question to March.
“Affirmative. It’s picking us up on the east side of the estate at one-zero-zero-zero hours.”
That’s ten a.m., which is roughly a half hour away.
“We should probably get going then.”
“Can’t you stay?” Farrah whines. “I’m not ready for you to leave yet.”
Fallon fights the look of regret on her face. “We have to go.”
“Where are you going?”
“I can’t say.”
“Well, are you coming back?”
Fallon glances at me. “I can’t say that either.”
“Ugh.” Farrah frustratedly pops in her seat. “You’re like a freakin’ spy or something. You probably weren’t even in Africa.”
“A spy.” March chokes on his sip of coffee.
Fallon doesn't appreciate him finding humor in Farrah’s assessment. Fallon could be a spy. She’s definitely smart enough, and sly enough, and deadly enough. Rules, she has a problem with.
“I’m not a spy. But my life is complicated.” This time Fallon looks directly at her parents, who have not said a word.
“I just wish we could spend more time together. You’re my sister, and I barely even know you.”
Fallon frowns. Looks like Farrah knows exactly how to pull her heartstrings like an adorable puppet master. Which is not an easy thing to do. Believe me, I know. I’ve had firsthand experience.
“I won’t make you promises I can’t keep, Farrah. I don’t know where life is going to take me, and I don’t know if I’m ever coming back.”
Farrah’s eyes well water. And something about the whole conversation strikes a chord with me. Is this a foreshadowing of my future? Will Fallon have this same conversation with Aisling one day? When she’s had enough of us and wants to move on? I hug Aisling a little tighter, unsure if I could sit as stoic as Liam as my daughter cried.
A black SUV pulls up in the courtyard and parks. Fallon notices it right away. “Did you arrange for a pickup?” she asks March.
“No, our car isn’t supposed to get picked up until after we leave.” We all watch the window with an escalation of anxiety. When we see who gets out of the car, Fallon explodes.
“You called him?” She shoots out of her chair, accusing her father.“You ratted us out! You told him we were here.” She picks up a knife.
Liam places his hands up, keeping his composure. Nadine looks like she’s going to pass out. Farrah has no idea what’s going on.
