Page 74 of Faking Summer
"Say things like that," she whispered, delicate but heavy with emotion.
“Why not?” I asked, watching as she stared at Goldilocks, almost like they were having a silent conversation—the horse, in all her wisdom, urging her to be honest.
“First of all… your sister knows about our deal. She overheard me telling Sam. And Reese, she’s so hurt. I hate that she found out like that. I really care about her.”
I exhaled, running a hand through my hair. “Trust me, she’ll be okay. She’ll forgive you. Might hold a grudge against me for a while, though.”
"I thought I could do this," she continued, not looking at me. "I thought if we were together in front of my family, it would finally impress them." A bitter laugh escaped her. "That I wouldn't be some disappointment for once… but now that it's here, I don't think I can go through with this."
"Why do you need their approval? Why does impressing your family even matter so much?"
She looked down, playing with the bracelets on her arm. "You wouldn't understand what it's like," she whispered painfully. "To always be the disappointment—not perfect like Cooper or Charlotte. Every kid grows up wanting their parents' approval... wanting themto be proud." Her fingers traced the bracelets. "I've never had that. Not once. And I know we've come all this way..." She shook her head, a tear dropping slowly down her face. "But, I can't finally make them proud of me with a lie."
I moved closer, bending down to wipe the tear off her cheek. "Caroline, do you really believe this is a lie?”
Her glossy eyes finally met mine as she whispered, "We both knew what this was. None of it was real."
The denial stung, because I knew she felt what I did. The realness.
"I don’t believe that," I said, calm but serious. "It’s felt pretty fucking real to me." I stood back up, leaning against the stall. "I care about you. And I know you feel something too."
"Reese," she finally said, her voice breaking in a way that clawed at my chest. "Maybe I got carried away with how good it all felt." She put her head in her hands. "Pretending things could be real... that I could actually be with someone like you… but we both know I'm not the girl who gets the happy ending. You're the guy who ends up with the fashion model, the dream house, you get the perfect life. Yes, maybe I was feeling things, but I’m not going to pretend you would actually end up with someone like me."
I wish everyone would stop saying that, stop telling me who I was destined to end up with, or what my life was supposed to look like. I know what feels right, and when I’m with her,everythingfeels right.
"Caroline, don't do this. I get it now, why you see yourself the way you do, but fuck, you’re so much more than you give yourself credit for. You have no idea how amazing you are. If you could see yourself how I see you, you’d never question that."
The gentle rhythm of Goldilocks' breathing filled the quiet space between us, a comforting backdrop to the uncertainty that hung heavily in the air.
"Let's just get through dinner," she said, her tone resolute. But Iheard the tremble she couldn't hide. "After tonight, this has to be done. I can take on tomorrow by myself."
Her words stung, and I was doing everything I could to hold back the overwhelming feeling of panic when I thought about the possibility of losing her. I knew I used to have a life without her, where I was okay with her hating me and staying in different lanes, but I didn’t want that life anymore.
"If that’s what you want." I gave in, not because I thought she actually wanted that, but because sometimes to get what you really want takes knowing when to fall back. And make no mistake, I was getting what I wanted—I had no intention of giving up.
“It’s what I want,” Caroline said before standing up and leaning her head against the horse's broad forehead and saying goodbye. She closed her eyes for a brief moment, absorbing comfort from Goldilocks.
"You were right about one thing," I murmured, petting Goldilocks one last time—I swear she gave me a look like she felt sorry for me. "You'll never get your happy ending if you keep standing in your own way."
She didn’t say a word. She turned off the lights and closed the barn door. As we walked towards the rehearsal dinner, I let my gaze linger on her, taking in every detail—the way her hair fell in soft waves down her back, the subtle lift of her shoulders as she breathed in the night air, the slight quiver of her hands.
"Tell me one more thing," I urged, lifting her chin to look up at me.
"Anything," she said, honestly.
I could see the questions swirling in her mind, those eyes reflecting the same confusion that twisted inside me. There was an expectant pause, our breaths mingling in the stillness of the night.
"Earlier today," I began, thinking about what had been on my mind ever since. "You said you were worried I was going to humiliate you again." My gaze narrowed onto hers, searching. "What did you mean by that?"
"Sixth grade," she answered after a moment, the words falling softly between us, like I knew what that meant.
"Sixth grade?" I echoed, waiting for her to explain.
She looked away, her gaze settling on the tables where guests were now seated. "The dance," she continued, shaking her head. "The one you had Evan ask me to be your date to."
I blinked, my thoughts racing back, but my mind was coming up blank.
"Then you showed up with someone else. That someone else being the girl who poured a drink on me… I was humiliated. Horrified."
