“Wedding?” I guess since that was the biggest event she had on her worry plate. It’s just a few months away.
Fallon shrugs, wrapping her hands around her coffee. “Wedding, running a business, and getting everything ready for the birthday party in four days.”
“Hey, isn’t Blain supposed to be throwing it for you?” I ask, my tone slightly defensive. “Why should you stress?”
Pursing her lips, Fallon tilts her head as if that was a stupid question. “Blain throwing a party means he leaves it to his secretary to plan details, who, in turn, comes to me because she knows nothing of the details that would make me happy since it’s my party—and yours, of course. So yeah… I’m essentially handling most of it.”
“I’m sorry,” I murmur. She has so much on her plate, but mainly because she’s working hard on a huge, extravagant party that her fiancé wanted to have and she’s doing all the work. He’s such a selfish douche, and I can’t for the life of me understand why that doesn’t bother Fallon the way it does me.
Fallon waves a hand, as she often does to blow off any concerns people show for her. She’s used to being the tough one, the older sister who just handles things. She never likes to be seen as weak.
But I study Fallon a bit closer. She has dark circles under her eyes, peeking through the expertly applied makeup. Her skin is a bit more pale than usual. “Are you sure it’s just stress?”
“Of course,” she replies as if my question is ludicrous.
“Because honestly, sis, you’re looking a bit haggard,” I say with a big grin to lessen the blow to her vanity. I expect she’ll laugh or get mad.
Instead, her expression crumples ever so slightly, and I’m stunned when she admits. “I’m not sleeping very well.”
“Why not?”
“Well, because of stress,” she replies blandly. “And I’m not sleeping well because of bad dreams, which is probably why I have headaches.”
Fallon is sharing far more personal stuff with me than she ever has. She doesn’t want to be the one to turn to someone else for strength. I don’t waste the opportunity to find out more since she’s being open, perhaps a deep-rooted need I have to give her something for all the years she big sistered me.
“What kind of nightmares? Do you remember them?”
Fallon shakes her head, gaze dropping to her coffee. “Not details. But they involve you.”
“Me?” I exclaim.
Her gaze snaps up. “I think they’re about you. I can’t remember anything, but when I wake up, I have the feeling you’re in danger and I can’t help you out. It’s like an impending sense of doom.”
Something dark is coming, is what Stan had said a few weeks ago.
I shake that thought off. It’s coincidental Fallon’s worrying about me being in danger. She always worries about me. That’s what she has done for most of my life.
Instead, I make light of it. “Impending sense of doom, huh? Maybe you’re getting cold feet about your wedding.”
Fallon snorts, and it accomplishes what I had hoped. To make her laugh.
“I’m most certainly not having cold feet about my wedding,” she sniffs, lifting her chin and looking at me with challenge. “I can’t wait to marry Blain.”
“And have little Blain babies,” I mutter. Just what the world needs.
“Not anytime soon,” Fallon says, picking her phone up from the table and depositing it into her purse, which she pulls off from the back of the chair. She stands, a clear indication this little sister get-together is over. “I have to get back to the gallery.”
Every bit of vulnerability she’d let me see the last few minutes is gone, and that mask of supreme confidence is firmly in place.
Still, I push up from my chair and move to her, settling my hands on her shoulders. When our eyes are locked, I say, “I am here for you if things are too stressful. You tell me what I can do to help, okay?”
“I’m fine—”
“You’re always fine, Fallon,” I point out. “You always take care of everyone and everything. Lean on me if you need to.”
I expect her to argue. Instead, I’m shocked to see her eyes go transparent with soft appreciation. She nods, a significant admission from her that she might not always be able to shoulder all burdens. “Okay,” she breathes softly, then pulls me in for a hug. “Thank you.”
We stay that way for a long moment before she releases me. Before she leaves, I get the standard lecture not to be late for our birthday party and that she has several dresses I can borrow if I need to.
“I’m good,” I say. “I have a beautiful dress all picked out.”
This is so far from my ordinary that Fallon quirks a skeptical eyebrow.
So I lie. “It’s one of Rainey’s, but it’s perfect.”