♡ 2: Fun Family Dinners

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Here's the next chapter. Thank you for everyone who checked out the first chapter because this is a project I'm really excited about. This will be a fluff piece so get ready for the beginning of some feels and fangirling :)

This again is a shor chapter, but I think the next one will be a longer one.

THERE IS THE SEXY SCOTT EASTWOOD-------->

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-Dana

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Our next big encounter is when Mom invites him over for dinner after a long day of work. Dad and Luke come inside as I’m walking into the kitchen and Mom has the table already set. Luke is in a plaid shirt with a white tank top and worn-out jeans. Luke greets my mom and as my dad kissing my mom I see Luke turn to my direction. Our eyes meet and I’m immediately smiling. I say hi to him before talking a seat at the table—right across from him.

            “How was your day Skylar?” Dad asks, putting gravy on his mashed potatoes.

            “It was okay,” I answer. “Nothing too exciting.”

            Mom takes the ham from Luke. “I’ve been telling her to get a job in town, but of course she doesn’t.”

            My grip on my fork tightens. “You talk as if I’m not here,” I try to say without scorn. Dad always seemed to get me—more than Mom ever did.

            Mom looks up at me and sets the ham plate between us. “I’m sorry, I guess I have to get used to you being here instead of hours away where I never got the chance to visit.”

            “We have a guest,” Dad interrupts. “Don’t start a fight.”

            I continue to watch Mom as she pursed her lips and starts cutting her ham. She always hated that I went to a good school and that it’s far away from home, but it’s what I had to do. Dad understands why can’t she? I bite the inside of my cheek and look down at my plate.

            “Anyway, how’s your mother doing Luke?” Dad asks, turning the conversation on Luke—thank goodness. I couldn’t stand the attention on me for another second.

            “She’s doing better—today at least.”

            I furrow my eyebrows. “What’s wrong with your mom?” I ask.

            “She’s—um—she’s sick.” His eyes turn to sorrow and I feel horrible for asking.

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