Ella
"Mr. Reina likes to call me his daughter sometimes," I say quickly. "You see, I'm really good friends with his daughter, but we're not related." The relief on George's parents' faces is almost comical. They exhale simultaneously, awkward laughter breaking the silence.
"Oh, dear!" George's mother says with a shaky laugh. "Mr. Reina, Sir, you nearly gave us a heart attack!"
My parents look confused, my mother shooting me a puzzled glance, but I give them a discreet wink. They understand quickly, nodding along with my fabricated story. My father recovers smoothly, adding, "I'm sorry for the mix-up. Ella's always been such a good girl. I see her as a daughter sometimes."
George's father chuckles. "Oh, that's perfectly understandable. I've got a sweet daughter of my own, and I know exactly what you mean."
Their polite laughter rings hollow in my ears. I force a smile, but my mind is elsewhere. George has disappeared without a word. Is he upset? Relieved? I can't tell.