Falling for Fallon (Oak Hill 2)

I walked past the bar stools pulled up to the end of my kitchen counter and went into my bedroom. I flopped down on my bed, my fluffy down comforter almost swallowing up my tiny, 5’3” frame completely. I almost wished my bed was like a vacuum that would suck me inside and hide me from everyone and everything. I wanted to hide from all my worries, all my doubts, and—most of all—I wanted to hide from all the looming thoughts of being the world’s worst daughter.

Why was I such a people pleaser? I hated making people feel bad. I hated looking at my parents’ faces when they were disappointed in me. It made me feel terrible, and I’d simmer on it for days. I’ll still never get over the look on their faces when I told them I was going to college for interior design. My brother, Samuel, laughed at the dinner table and mumbled, “What? Are you going to redesign

your house every other day when you get bored? That’s all a design degree will be good for.” Then he cackled so hard he cried. My mother looked like she saw a ghost, especially after I said that I, Fallon Addington, wanted to work for a living. My father’s entire body shot back against his chair. He was completely confused with my choice. I argued and then countered, “Fine. I just won’t go to college, considering you two don’t want me to use my brain anyway.”

Unfortunately, I lost the battle. It was either I stay at home and live in the guesthouse, where they would probably pimp me out to their friends’ sons (much like they did with Derek), or I could go to college for something “worth going for” and get away for four years.

I obviously chose the latter.

I still took some interior design classes, though, and sketched when I had time. I even created a sort of portfolio of my sketches, although I knew I’d probably never get the chance to use it. Who had time to work when you were married to some hotshot like Derek who would expect you to plan his work parties and attend events with him?

Like I’d said before, I had known Derek for a long, long time. He came over with his family during holiday parties and went to the same events I was dragged to because our father’s worked at the same insurance firm. He never really paid me much attention until our parents had set us up on a date. I had sometimes caught him gazing at me, but then he’d turn his head and start talking to some overly beautiful blonde that no doubt worked in his office. He was the type of man that took what he wanted and didn’t care who got hurt in the process. I would know; I had observed him many, many times. He used his good looks to charm people—not just women, either. That’s exactly why he was good at his job. That was why he’d become so successful at such a young age.

It made me wonder why he was settling for me, though. He always had girls constantly hanging off his arm, sneaking them through whatever event’s large back doors, only to come back minutes later, her looking disheveled and him looking cool as a cucumber. It also made me wonder why, in all the time we’d been together in the last few months, he had only ever kissed me.

It was perplexing, to say the least.

I was almost envious of Derek. He seemed so onboard with the whole “us getting married” thing. The last dinner we’d had, a few weeks back, was exactly like all the rest. Once his colleagues had left for the night, we’d had a glass of wine together. He was nonchalant, barely looking up from his phone while asking me random questions. You know, all those questions you’d ask when you were trying to get to know someone.

In fact, I almost ripped the phone out of his hand to see if he was actually typing my answers in to analyze them later.

He must have been, because a few days later, my father had called me, his voice more chipper than normal, and told me that Derek had asked him permission to proposition me. He literally used the word “proposition.”

I almost dropped the phone in horror.

Already?! Like, hello. That was way fast. I mean, sure, I had been to dinner with him several times and attended some galas with him, but I felt like I barely knew him—the real him. But being the good daughter that I was, nearly pleased that my father was actually being kind to me, I said, “Oh, that’s great!”

Yeah, I was pathetic. But hey, my dad wasn’t sulking, so that was good, right?

I huffed and pulled the pillow over my face.

The little voice in the back of my head whispered, Gahhhhh, why do I feel so suffocated?!

I chuckled. Probably the pillow over your head, or the fact that you’re about to marry someone you barely know because “that’s just the way things work in our world.”

Why was this so hard?

It doesn’t have to be.

Oh, but it did. I either married Derek and pleased my parents, or I could say goodbye to my entire family. I’d be taken off the family tree faster than I could say, “Adios!”

“Knock, knock.” Ugh, what is she doing here? I sighed as I heard my door open and close. “Sweetie, are you in here? I’ve brought a very handsome visitor.”

I popped up quickly, my caramel-brown hair flying into my face. I watched as my mother strolled into my bedroom, her arm interlocked with my… Boyfriend? Partner? Future husband? Derek?

I tried to smile at the pair of them, but it felt off. I probably looked as if I were constipated or something.

“Hello,” I managed to say. Why are they here?!

“I found Derek strolling around the house after he dropped some papers off to your father and realized he was looking for you! He didn’t know you lived in the guesthouse all on your own.”

I almost snickered. All on my own? I lived thirty yards from my parents’ house and had a mysterious maid who did all my laundry and folded my clothes for me. And I kept finding premade smoothies in my fridge—probably from Lupe. She was always my favorite.

Derek eyed me cautiously, and I felt myself pull back a tad.

“Yes, thank you, Mary.” Derek turned and placed his other hand on hers. “I was hoping I’d get to see Fallon a few more times before I leave for Guam in a couple weeks.”

My mother blushed like he was asking her out instead of me. I held back my eye-roll.