AN: There's probably one more chapter here that I'll be adding to this one.
I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think!
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Daryl arrived on time, just like he'd promised he would. Carol had rushed to grab her purse and give herself something of a once over the moment that she'd seen his truck rolling down her driveway. She had read—studied really—the list that he'd given her, but it wasn't anything that was going to be too difficult to remember. He had gone into some detail about what kind of woman she should be, but there wasn't all that much that was out of the ordinary. At least she wasn't going to have to pretend that she trained elephants or anything like that.
Besides, Carol prided herself on being something of an actress. It was one of the few positives that she felt she brought out of her last relationship. She was good at convincing people of things, even if they weren't true in the slightest. Compared to some of her other performances? This would be a piece of cake.
When Carol opened the door to Daryl's knocking, he was standing there with three tulips in his hand. He held them almost like he wasn't sure what to do with them and like he'd considered, if she hadn't opened the door at just that moment, simply throwing them out into the yard to be rid of them. They were a nice gesture, but it was clear that he wasn't accustomed to offering such a gesture.
Carol took them, immediately, with a smile.
"They're beautiful," she said.
"Just flowers," Daryl responded.
Carol nodded and chewed her lip to keep from smiling at the comment. Daryl, ready for their "family" dinner, looked different than he had the night before. He was clearly freshly scrubbed. The jeans that he wore could've used another wash, maybe, and his button down shirt was in need of an ironing, but he looked nice. Carol gave him a quick glance from head to toe and didn't mind that she knew he was doing exactly the same thing to her.
He could use a haircut. His hair, where it was unkempt, had grown over his ears in an awkward way. These were all things that, if she weren't just an imaginary girlfriend that he'd break up with in his imagination in the coming weeks, she might try to gently suggest to him. It wasn't, though, any of her concern since this was simply something for the show of it.
"You look nice," Carol offered.
Daryl looked nervous, actually, but Carol didn't think anything about this really needed to be honesty hour. He looked surprised, too, that she'd said anything.
"You don't gotta...say that kinda stuff," Daryl stammered out. "Except—maybe if you could say something like that in front of them? Not that, but..."
Carol laughed then. She couldn't help it and she couldn't avoid it.
"I wasn't saying it as part of the show," she said, shaking her head. "I was saying it because you look nice, that's all."
She got a half smile in response and Daryl wiped it away as quickly as it had appeared.
"You look nice too," he said.
Carol thanked him, showing him how she thought he should've responded to the compliment that she'd offered, and she excused herself a moment to put the tulips in water in the kitchen. Then she stepped out the door and locked it with Daryl waiting just to the side.
"I think I've memorized everything you told me that I should know," Carol said. "Did you forget anything or is there anything else in particular that you want me to add or do?"
He hummed at her.
"I think I got it all," he said. "To be honest? I don't much remember everything I said. When I started talking? It was just like I couldn't stop, even though I kept telling myself it might be a good idea not to dig the hole that much deeper."
He escorted Carol to the truck and ceremoniously opened the door for her. She thanked him and surprised herself when she felt her face flooding with warmth over a gesture that was so simple and that should be, honestly, expected. It was nice. It wasn't something she'd ever been used to before.
Daryl crossed in front of the truck, his steps fast and resembling hopping motions, and he got in to immediately crank the vehicle.
"Whatever happens," Carol said, in an attempt to try to calm some of his concerns, "I'll do my best to roll with it. We'll get through this. It'll be a piece of cake."
He looked at her, nodded his head as thanks or acceptance or simply as a way of acknowledging that she's spoken, and sucked in a breath before he backed the car up to get them on their way.
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Daryl was enjoying himself far more than he thought he might. Hershel and Miss Jo seemed wholly impressed with Carol. And why wouldn't they be? She was perfect. Or, at least, she was fully capable of acting like she was perfect.
Immediately upon entering the door, she'd introduced herself to them both. Daryl had forgotten, entirely, that he'd told them her name was Anna. It had been the first thing that had popped into his mind, but it had quickly popped back out again. When she'd introduced herself, then, as Carol and had immediately been met with confusion and question about what Daryl called her, Carol had remained entirely collected and explained to them both that her middle name was Ann and that Daryl liked to call her "Anna" as a pet name because, the first time that she'd met him, she'd introduced herself with her full name and he'd misheard her, calling her by the wrong name the entire night. Now it stuck as a cute little inside joke between them.
She worked as a waitress, though she didn't tell them where, and she was saving up to go to school—that was how she fixed the fact that he'd forgotten to tell her that he'd told them she was studying to educate herself and get a good job. She wasn't studying just yet—but they were practicing positive thinking or something like that and making sure that it would come true just as soon as she cleared enough tips to get going.
First date? She had that. Daryl hadn't said anything to them about—thank goodness—but they were curious. Daryl had sat across the table, at that point, and listened to the story with as much interest as they had. For a moment? He wanted to be on such a date with her—but dates weren't really his strong point. Maybe, of course, it was because he hadn't ever actually been on one.
They met on account of they had a mutual friend. This mutual friend—the peroxide blonde from the Lobo—had taken Daryl out one night to keep her from being bothered because she wanted a quiet night. While they'd been out, Carol had shown up because she was in need of some cheering up. Daryl—being far better at things in Carol's imagination than he tended to be in real life—had really done his best to make her have a good night.
It was far-fetched, in Daryl's opinion, but Hershel and Miss Jo bought it. That's how they'd met. By the end of the night? It had been Carol that had asked Daryl out because she just couldn't stand the thought of not seeing him again. That's when they'd gone on their first date.
It was a simple date. Just the way that she apparently thought Daryl would've liked it. She'd offered to bring a basket lunch and he'd taken her fishing out on Johnson's pond. He'd been such a gentleman that he'd baited her hook for her and he'd gotten all the fish off her hook so she wouldn't get pricked by any of them. They'd thrown them all back because that's what Carol had wanted to do and then they'd had her basket lunch right out there on the lake where they'd already spent the day. Food done, they'd gone and they'd gotten ice cream and sat and talked for more hours, according to Carol, than Daryl thought he could manage talking about anything.
It had been a nice date. Daryl hadn't even been on it, but he'd enjoyed it by the time she finished talking about it.
There had been quite a few more since then. Carol didn't go into detail about any of them, and Daryl had to stop himself before he was the one that asked her to tell him about them.
And yes she loved baking. She loved cooking. She was learning to sew, and Daryl told her that she had to get better at it before he was trusting her to go sewing up his clothes since she'd nearly sewn the leg of a pair of her own pants shut while trying to fix some kind of messed up seam. She didn't know much about canning, but if Daryl brought home anything from the farm—of the extra that Miss Jo was already offering her and Daryl both—then she would love to try to pick it up. And, of course, if she and Daryl were still together, then she'd love to come and learn a little first hand from Miss Jo.
The coffee cake was delicious. The coffee was wonderful. The house was precious—after the grand tour—and Carol, too, had always wanted to live on a little farm where she might have some chickens and a cow or two.
Daryl got into the show too. As it went on, he found himself agreeing with her when she gave information about their imaginary relationship. He laughed at what were supposed to be inside jokes, just as if he'd heard them a million times before and they never lost their charm, even if they were brand new to him.
By the time it was over? Daryl was almost half convinced that everything that had been said was true. He'd only just stopped himself—like he had when he'd wanted to ask Carol to tell him more stories—from accepting an invitation to join the Greene's again on Sunday for dinner.
They might have plans for Sunday, after all, and they might not be able to make it. Carol had offered that excuse before giving Daryl a glance out of the side of her eyes that he figured was her way of reminding him that, if he was as quick at coming up with things as he had been at creating her, they'd more than likely have broken up by Sunday. Something, inevitably, was going to happen that would ruin what appeared to be, at the moment, the most perfect union that ever had been or ever would be.
It hadn't happened yet, but Daryl had a certain twisting in his gut that told him he wouldn't have too hard of a time acting like it had come as something of a hard blow.
After they said goodbye, Daryl walked Carol out to the truck as he should and opened her door. She slid right on into the seat and he closed it. He circled around to where Hershel and Miss Jo were standing, just at the front of the truck, and he offered them another, and final, goodnight on his own part.
"I'm happy for you, son," Hershel said, nodding his head quickly in the direction of the truck. "She seems like a real good girl. Good for you."
Daryl offered Hershel the best thanks that he could. The gnawing in his stomach, though, was making it difficult for him to feel too sincere. He couldn't imagine what the man was going to think, in just a few days' time, when he told them that he'd let her slip the hook. After all, he could make it all about her—how she just turned out to be something terrible that he never even saw coming—but it just didn't seem right to do that.
"She's—good," Daryl said. "She's—alright."
Miss Jo laughed at that.
"Alright?" She asked, something coming into her voice. "You better have nicer things than that to say to her," she teased. "She's a good girl. Perfect for you. Go on. Don't let us keep you. I hope you have something nice planned for this evening?"
Daryl swallowed.
The only nice thing that he had planned was to return the woman to her home. He'd probably tell her that she did a good job, because she'd done an even better job than he'd thought she might do, and then he'd thank her again for her acting efforts. If he had an award for her then he might have offered her that, but as it turned out he was empty handed. So he wouldn't give her anything. He'd thank her, remind her that he was around to take care of anything should she need it, and then he'd wish her a goodnight.
But he wasn't going to tell them that. He wasn't going to ruin, after she'd put so much effort into it, the magic of the night.
"Yeah," he said, gently nodding his head. "Got a big night planned. Good. Quiet."
They both seemed amused at that, even if Daryl wasn't exactly invested in figuring out why.
"We won't keep you then," Hershel said. "You go on. Have a good time. Sunday? If you don't have plans or something? Bring her over for dinner. She can meet everyone else then."
Daryl just nodded his head at that and turned to get into his truck where Carol was waiting. He climbed in, closed the door, cranked the truck, and was halfway down the long driveway before he spoke at all.
"You done good tonight," Daryl said. "Gotta admit, I was worried. You pulled it off, though, and good."
Carol laughed quietly in her seat.
"It was nice," she said. "They're really wonderful people. I can see why you care about them so much. What—what about your parents?"
Daryl hummed.
That was a subject that wasn't one he really wanted to take up with too many people, and it certainly wasn't one that he wanted to discuss in a situation that was best described as being "in passing".
"Not much to speak of," he said, dismissing the question for the most part. He glanced at Carol. The pleasant expression she'd been wearing faded some, but she didn't say anything in response. "Hershel and Miss Jo? They're like parents," Daryl said, trying to give her something. "Took me in when I was having a hard time. Give me a job. Sometimes? Give me a lil' more money than I earned because they know when I'm needing it. Better'n most parents."
Carol hummed.
"You got parents?" Daryl asked.
Carol snorted.
"Everyone has parents," Carol said. "Now—whether or not they're around or whether or not you can count on them? That's a different story. But everyone has parents. Everyone came from somewhere."
"Fair enough," Daryl said. "Can you—count on yours?"
Carol was quiet for a moment and Daryl assumed that, maybe, her parents were as touchy of a subject as his were.
"I could," she said. "When they were around."
Daryl felt the twisting in his stomach again, but this time it was a little different than before.
"Sorry," he said.
Carol hummed.
"Don't be," she responded. "They asked you if we were doing something nice. You said we were. What are we doing?"
Daryl glanced at her.
"What?" He asked.
Carol smiled.
"The truck isn't sound proof," she said. "And—I'm not that bad at reading lips."
"Figured you'd wanna go home," Daryl said.
"Oh, I do," Carol said. "But that doesn't mean I have to go home right away. If you're tired, though..."
Daryl swallowed. The twisting in his stomach suddenly stopped because it was replaced with a new sensation—this one felt a lot more wobbly than the one before.
"Not much to do at this hour," Daryl said.
Carol hummed and then she smiled at Daryl in the fading light of day that invaded the cab of the truck.
"Well—in memory of our first date, and in honor of our last, maybe we could go out to Johnson's pond?" Carol offered. "Just—watch the sun set? We could—pick up something?"
Daryl considered it a moment. In memory of their first date—a date that she'd, supposedly, asked him on. In honor of their last date—a date that had been the full culmination of a relationship built entirely on something of a daydream.
He could drink to that.
"You like wine?" He asked. "Curt Willis makes good homemade wine. Sells it outta his house. Sweet and he owes me a bottle."
Carol smiled at him.
"Sounds perfect," she confirmed.
It was all the confirmation that Daryl needed to steer his truck down a road that he hadn't planned on taking to head out toward the edge of town where Curt lived—the man's house wasn't too far out of the way from where they were planning to go for a quiet end to the evening.
At least Daryl hadn't lied about one thing.