It is a place known to most as Savannah. It is a place known to me as home. I wish I could tell you it was my love for this city that precipitated my return. But I did not return out of a mere longing for home. I returned because I have something to prove to home. I am Savannah…from Savannah.
I thought I knew my mother but right now I’m not sure I even know myself. I’m currently a journalist for the Savannah Chronicle. And I don’t need drama. Really, I can create my own. Who needs extra? But in spite of the mind-boggling events in Savannah this week, the truth is going to be revealed by one of its very own. I am Savannah…from Savannah.
First, I had to lie to my boss. (Sort of.) Then my parents had a fight. (They never fight.) The pint-sized lapdog that is treated better than I am has thrown up. (Twice.) This vacation hasn’t even started…and I’m ready to go home.
No one in her right mind would actually choose to spend a week at the beach with a steel-Magnolia drama queen, a tragically disappointed diva-in-training, and a yapping, hurling, supremely annoying little canine princess. But I love Seaside, so I came. Then I ran into the gorgeous, exasperating Joshua North…and watched my good sense slide rapidly south. Which goes to show that even with a tan and (maybe) a new man in my life–I’m still the same old Savannah…from Savannah.