Cameron’s face is dark. The wind gusts over the loch, ruffling his hair. “You lie,” he repeats. “All the time. You never stop.”
“What?”
“You lie about everything,” he says. “You lie about what you like. You lie about how you feel. Today, in the changing room, you smiled at that girl like she was your best friend, when all you wanted was for her to leave you alone.”
Fraser shifts uneasily. “Hey, now.”
But Cameron is on a roll. His eyes are boring into me. “You wear clothes that you hate because they’re fashionable. You go to parties you know you can’t handle and then wind up sobbing on the floor. All you do ispretendall the time?—”
“Cameron,” Alec snaps. “Stop it.”
Suddenly, anger spikes in me.
“So what if I do pretend?” I demand. “Is that so bad?” Cameron opens his mouth, but I interrupt him. “No, listen. When I was a kid, I found itsohard to make friends. Everyone thought I was weird. I’d talk too much, or be too loud, or too quiet, or not know what to say. I’d either be too sensitive or too blunt. It felt like every time I spoke, I would make some mistake.And I never knew what the mistake was, only that everyone around me was acting like I’d done something wrong.” I blink back a million memories that threaten to pop up. Me on the playground, in the classroom, at a birthday party. I remember the shame that used to fill me constantly as the other girls laughed at me, or looked at me like I was a freak, or whispered to each other about me.
“So I watched the girls in my class,” I say. “I watched how they talked to each other. And I copied them. I learned when to smile. When to laugh. When not to get upset. I learned to tone myself down. To be nice and bubbly and likeable.” I glare at Cameron. “That’swhen I learned to pretend. So I wouldn’t just be alone forever.”
“Oh, baby,” Fraser murmurs.
I know I should shut up. I need to change the subject, to laugh it off. But I can’t. The words are pouring out. “What else was I meant to do?” I ask, voice breaking. “Mum always said I was a difficult kid. It was difficult to like me. And she was right. I always needed extra help, I was always late, I was always getting into scrapes or problems or saying the wrong thing. So what if I learnt to smooth out my edges a bit? I don’t want people to think I’m messy, or dramatic, or weird, or annoying. So, sure, I put on a smile and pretend sometimes. Why shouldn’t I? It’s not like it’s hurting anyone.”
Cameron looks at me in disbelief. “It’s hurtingyou,” he says emphatically. “You’reexhausted.”
His words knock the anger right out of me. I just stare at him, breathing hard.
His jaw clenches. “And you might not care about yourself,” he says gruffly. “But I do.”
I don’t know what to say.
Fraser swears. “Stop growling at her, you old cow. Alec, I need to hold her.”
Wordlessly, Alec passes me over. Fraser gathers me up in his arms. “You feel like all that?” he says, sounding genuinely heartbroken. “Bless, you were just a kid. Did your mum really tell you you were difficult to like?”
I nod. “She said I was too much. I’d never make friends if I didn’t tone myself down and learn to fit in.”
He sucks in a sharp breath. “Baby. I know you love her, and she’s all the family you have, but that’s an awful thing to say to your kid.”
“I wish you could see yourself how everyone else does,” Alec says quietly. His face is pained. “You’re amazing, Summer.”
I have to laugh. “Oh, yeah? What are you going to say, that I should love myself, no matter what?”
“Aye.”
“Youhaven’t forgiven yourself for accidents that happened years ago,” I point out. “You know it’s harder than that.” I look down at my lap. “Look. I know I probably sound messed up. I swear I’ve been to therapy for this. It just…lives inside me. This feeling of always being a failure. And of having to hide it so people like me. I don’t even do it on purpose anymore, it just happens.”
There’s a brief silence. “Do you want to keep influencing?” Cameron asks eventually.
“The thought of it makes me feel like I’m going to be eaten by wolves,” I say honestly. “But I have to, because?—”
“Because it’s all you think you’ve ever been good at,” Alec says flatly. “Is there a middle ground here?”
“Aye,” Fraser says, cuddling me closer into his chest. “There has to be something you can do which will cause you less emotional damage.” He tugs at my coat. “Personally, my vote is you go back to designing. You’re a dab hand on a sewing machine.”
Alec nods. “Just because your university course was paced too aggressively for you, it doesn’t mean you have to give up. You have the funds to hire help now.”
I chew my lip. The thought of designing again makes my stomach swirl. Writing off my fashion design dreams hurt, yes, but it also felt like…relief. I didn’t have to worry about failing anymore. I already had.
“I mean,” I hedge, “if all of this lipstick stuff ever blows over, I can ask Lulu to reach out again to Icons Only?—”
