Will had never used that awful nickname before—not once—even when it had followed her that summer to Florida. Not that he’d talked to her much. She was staff. He was talent. They didn’t mix.
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. Lucy burned the diary and built a new life. But all the years she had spent knitting together her self-confidence were obliterated there in the tiny kitchen in the Camelot apartments.
“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. He turned on his heel and stalked out of the room, leaving her alone with the photo.
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.
Her heart plunged to her knees. She couldn’t move through the numbness.
This was how it would end.
The tight vise around her insides gripped harder. Tears prickled the edges of her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. After everything they’d been through, he’d walked away. She couldn’t wrap her head around his reasons. He was the one who hadn’t recognizedher.
Lucy pressed her fingers against her eyelids as the shock drained away, leaving only pain.
She walked calmly toward where he was in 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, fat 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.
“You wanted this.” She pointed to herself. “You only wanted the improved version. Not the overweight 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 seethat.” 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.”
A film of sweat formed under her arms, and her heart raced. He could not be for real.This, now, was who she had become.
“No? You sure about that? You’ve done the exact same thing. Pretending to be a consumer reporter at KDVX when you’re about to be everyone’s boss.” She kept going, the words flowing with the anger. “Looks like in eight years neither of us has really changed.”
He sucked in a breath. “That’s pretty low.”
“You’ve got places to be. Places that aren’t here.” She tried to slip past him.
He stepped in front of her, blocking the small hallway. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
She crossed her arms across her chest. “It doesn’t matter now.”
“Why, Luce?” he practically growled the words.
“You should go.”
