Page 111 of Sweet Caroline
“What? What’s going on?”
Mousse be damned, I smear a sticky thumb over the red button on the screen.
“Care—” Adrian’s voice cuts to silence as the call drops.
“Told me what?” Miles asks carefully.
I swallow. “Nothing.”
He studies me. “Bullshit.”
“It’s nothing. I… It’s…” I’m looking everywhere but into those blueeyes. “Damnit, Adrian.” I hurry back to the bathroom to wash my hands, scrubbing them a bit aggressively as I panic-spiral about how to explain.
My feelings aremyproblem, not his. I wasn’t supposed to fall for him, and telling him will only hurt us both.
“You can talk to me.” Miles’ voice comes from the doorway behind me. “You know that, right?”
“Not about this, I can’t.”Do I sound bitter?
“Caroline.” His voice takes on a harder edge than I’m used to. “Come on.”
Frowning, I crack open my hair gel and rub it over my palms. I tilt over to one side and scrunch it into my curls, avoiding the figure looming in the mirror—leaning against the door frame, arms crossed over his tattooed chest. Those arms I’ve kissed. Those arms that have carried me and pinned me down and held me as I fell apart.
Those arms that won’t be wrapped around me tonight. I already ache at the thought.
“We’re gonna be late.” My voice is quiet. I keep my gaze trained on my reflection in the mirror, though I can feel him staring at me. “You should finish getting dressed.”
Eventually, the silence drags my eyes over to his.
“I’ll get over it,” I add, barely trusting my voice to stay steady.
“Caroline…” His brow pinches, emotion touching every line of his face. He looks like he wants to say more but knows, like I do, that going there will wreck us both.
“I’ll be okay.” I slap on a brave smile, willing myself to breathe—fighting the way my throat knots around the lie.
Another little death.
22
MILES
The Brennan property is the kind that makes me wonder if it should be called an estate. Surrounded by huge maples shedding leaves in vivid shades of orange and red, the house itself is probably three times the size of the one I grew up in. There are at least a dozen vehicles parked out front, including a local news van, all spattered with rain. A few dead leaves are plastered to their windshields, as if clinging on for one last wild ride before the November temperatures claim them.
Look at me getting all poetic and shit.
I guess falling in love really fucks you up.
I cling tight to Caroline’s hand as we head inside, less sure than ever about where we stand but not quite ready to share her with anyone else all the same. Showing up for the Pete Brennan campaign tonight will be our last public appearance together—one last photo op for this fake relationship that’s become anything but fake to me.
Tous.
George decided not to make the trip with us tonight. Heclaimed it would be too late for him to stay up, but I suspect he has no more interest in showing public support for Pete than I do.
“You sure you’re up for this, fancy girl?” The endearment rolls off my tongue as naturally as my next breath, a bittersweet reminder of how easy everything is with her.
George’s words about his late wife drift back to me: “No question in my mind. It was easy with her.”
My chest feels like it’s about to cave in. I may have foundthe one, but that doesn’t magically make me ready to be the one she deserves. Doesn’t make meeasyfor her.
