Page 88 of When We Are Falling

“I agree,” Trudy adds, her tone matching Charlotte’s. “We’re not exactly in a place where we can just sit down and have lunch and pretend like everything’s fine.”

I try to stay hopeful despite all the evidence to the contrary. “I get that, I do. But maybe this could be a start? For Blake’s sake?”

Trudy sighs, her fingers tapping against the table, a soft, rhythmic sound. “I know you mean well. Look, why don’t you start by telling us what’s going on? You said Blake’s been stressed. Has something happened?”

Shit. I was hoping Blake would be here by now and all of these conversations would be taking place organically, Blake so happy to have all the people who love her here, so grateful, that she opens up. One thing she wouldnotwant is me worrying her moms by telling them all about David.

“Let’s just wait for Blake. Please. She’s been carrying a lot on her shoulders lately, and it’s not fair for her to do it alone. We’ll just have a nice lunch and remind her that we’re all here for her.”

Charlotte shifts in her seat, looking out the window at the harbor. “I just want to do what’s best for Blake.”

“And so do I,” Trudy says, but there’s a hardness to her words that makes me wonder just how deep the rift between them really goes.

I’m trying to act like this is all totally normal, but it’s pretty clear I’m walking on a tightrope. Thankfully the waiter comes by to take our drink orders. I order a beer, Trudy asks for a glass of white wine, and Charlotte goes with water.

As the waiter walks away, I try to lighten the mood, talking about the wetlands and how the cleanup is going there. But I can see it in their eyes—they’re not really listening. They’re here physically, but their minds are somewhere else, locked in a silent battle with each other.

As the seconds tick by, the tension between Trudy and Charlotte only thickens, and I start to wonder if I’ve just made a colossal mistake. Trudy’s sipping her wine a little too quickly, and Charlotte’s eyes keep darting to her watch. The small talk is dying a slow death, and the more I try to salvage it, the worse it gets.

I thought maybe this lunch could be a turning point. That seeing each other, being in the same space, might remind them of the good times, of the reasons they were together in the first place. I wasn’t expecting them to reconcile, but at least be glad for the chance to get together as a family and reassure Blake they’ll always be here for her. But that’s seeming less and less likely.

I keep trying to make a conversation happen, but I’m basically pushing a boulder uphill. Ireallyhope Blake gets here soon.

“So, how’s work been, Charlotte?” I ask.

“Busy,” Charlotte replies, her voice clipped. She doesn’t look up from her glass of water. “Lots of travel lately. I’m based out of Philadelphia now, which helps.”

“That must be difficult,” Trudy says, her words edged with something hard and uncomfortable. “Being away all the time.”

Charlotte shrugs, not meeting Trudy’s eyes. “It’s a necessary part of my job. Always has been.”

The silence that follows almost makes me wince. I glance between them, searching for something, anything, to say that might ease the tension, but nothing comes to mind.

“Well,” I start, clearing my throat, “it’s good that we’re all here. For Blake.”

Charlotte’s eyes finally meet Trudy’s, and there’s something in her gaze—regret, maybe, or just exhaustion. “Yes,” she says quietly. “For Blake.”

I can see it now, the walls that have been built up over time, too high and too thick for a single lunch to tear down. And in that moment, it dawns on me how naïve I was, pulling them together like this, hoping for Blake to see how thoughtful I was.

Every word between them is clipped, every glance loaded with unspoken history. It’s the kind of atmosphere that makes your skin crawl, and it reminds me of being a kid again, stuck between my own parents during those rare moments they came face to face.

I remember the dread that would settle in my gut, knowing the storm was coming, feeling powerless to stop it. And now, here I am, in the middle of someone else’s storm, that same old helplessness creeping back in.

I’m starting to sweat, the whole situation inching closer to imploding, when I spot Blake through one of the windows walking toward the restaurant in jeans and a black jacket cinched around the waist. Her hair is down in loose waves, her pretty face making my heart skip.

She pushes open the door, scanning the room for me. When she sees us sitting together, her eyes flick from me to her moms, her brows knitting together in confusion.

Pausing mid-step, there’s a tension in the way she holds herself, like she’s preparing for impact, and suddenly I know I’ve miscalculated badly.

My heart plummets. This was supposed to be my big, perfect gesture, the thing that showed her how much I care.

As she walks toward us, the shock on her face says it all, and the weight of my mistake settles on my shoulders. I walked into this restaurant thinking I was doing the right thing, that I could be the hero in Blake’s life.

But I’m pretty sure my good intentions won’t matter, and I’m left with the crushing certainty that I’ve just made everything between us even worse.

Chapter 41

Blake

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