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“W-what’re you talking about?” She rushed to her feet, bumping her toe on the leg of the table.
“That’s you. On the left.” His eyes flamed with determination.
It was. He knew.
“All the games of Confessions, all the times we talked, you never said a word,” he accused.
She reached for the image, and everything inside her crumbled to pieces.
The photo from that summer burned her fingertips. The picture had been taken a few days before he left, a week or so before they wrapped filming. He was handsome and fun-loving with his arm around a blonde. Jealousy pooled inside Lucy as it had all those years ago. The blonde woman was flashing him a knowing smile, and he had his head thrown back, laughing.
Lucy stood alone on the other side of the image. Unwanted. Invisible.
“Will… I…”
“You’re the caterpillar,” he said in disbelief.
Caterpillar? The word pierced straight through her heart, and the little bits of herself she’d held together over the years crushed the breath from her lungs.
Will had never used that awful nickname before—not once—even when it had followed her that summer to Florida. She’d been ridiculous enough to keep a diary, and she’d written about the name. Her roommate in Florida had been another bully in her life and shared that tidbit with the rest of the crew. The stupid nickname had been a part of who she was until she met Katie. She’d burned the diary and built a new life. But all the years Lucy had spent knitting together her self-confidence turned to ash right there in the tiny kitchen in Camelot.
“I can’t believe you lied to me.” His tone was careful, controlled.
She raised a hand to her mouth. They stood there, staring, saying nothing, her heart breaking.
“I need a minute,” he said. Then he turned on his heel and stalked out of the room, leaving her alone with the photo.
Lulu…Caterpillar.
Her eyes fixed on the disastrous picture that spelled the end of who they’d become together. She swallowed the fear rising in her throat as anxiety she hadn’t experienced in weeks wrapped around her.
The tight vise around her insides gripped harder. Tears pricked the edges of her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. He was the one who hadn’t recognized her.
Lucy pressed her fingers against her eyelids as the shock drained away, leaving only pain.
She walked calmly toward the bedroom, the slow movement at odds with the raging emotion inside. He leaned against the wall in the hallway, arms crossed, his gaze on his socks, in a posture of intense reflection.
“I’m not a caterpillar.”
At her monotone words, he glanced up. She studied him for a moment, unable to find any trace of warmth. Once more, reality had invaded her cocoon of happiness.
Of course, he wouldn’t want her anymore. No one ever wanted a stupid caterpillar. Now that he remembered, he would never look at her the same.
“Don’t ever call me that again.” She tore the image in half and threw it on the floor at his feet.
The pain reflected in his eyes matched her own.
“How do you think it felt that you didn’t remember me? I even told you my name, and you still didn’t get it. You wanted this.” She pointed to herself. “You only wanted the improved version. Not the awkward girl I used to be.”
The anger coming from him began to fall away. “Luc?—”
She waved a hand in front of him. “Oh no. You don’t get to ‘Luce’ your way out of this. I guess you’re right about people. Change your appearance, and they only see what they want to see. You didn’t want to see that.” She shoved a finger toward the ripped photo at his feet. “So you didn’t.”
“Lu—”
“And it stung. But I realized we were both people we didn’t want to be back then, so we should just move forward.”
He rested his hands against his hips. “I never pretended to be something I’m not.”
