Ian observed his mother from across the table— perfect hairstyle, perfect make-up, perfect clothes, perfect jewelery— she looked nothing like the woman whose husband was probably drinking himself to stupor in his room, in fact she was perfectly okay with hosting a book meeting with her friends later in the day, it was as though the gossiping didn't affect her, Ian envied her calm demeanor, unlike her he was falling apart.
"Is there something on my face?" Isabella's voice wrenched him out if his thoughts.
Ian forced a stiff smile. "Just your beauty." Isabella arched an unimpressed brow, clearly she was not interested in his flattery.
Her eyes moved past him stopping on the covered plates beside her, she released a faint sigh. "Go call your father, tell him the food is getting cold." She said.
This wasn't the first time that Callan wasn't joining them for lunch. "Alright." Ian nodded as he stood to leave.
*******
