Page 26 of Love, Second Chances and Other Nonsense
“Hey,” he says, moving forward to kiss my cheek. “You’re home. How was work?”
“Exhausting,” I admit, leaning into his kiss despite myself. His familiar pine scent wraps around me, and for a moment, I almost forget Millie is sitting at our dining table, watching us with those sharp blue eyes.
“Oh my gosh, Caitlin, you do look absolutely wrecked,” Millie says, her voice dripping with a concern that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “I wouldn’t think working in a diner would be such hard work. I mean, I’m on my feet all day at the hospital, but that’s life and death, not… I mean, you just look wiped out.”
I clench my jaw, catching the subtle dig beneath her words. “It’s a different kind of exhausting,” I manage to say. “But yes, I’m pretty tired.”
“You should sit down,” Adam says, placing his hand on my lower back. “I’ll get you some food.”
I nod gratefully and move to the couch, kicking off my shoes and sighing with relief as I sink into the cushions. I close my eyes briefly, listening to Adam move around in the kitchen. The clink of a plate, the opening of a drawer for utensils.
“Huh,” Adam says, confusion in his voice. “That’s weird.”
I open my eyes to see him standing by the serving dish, frowning. “What’s wrong?”
“I could’ve sworn there was more pasta left,” he says, looking into the nearly empty dish. “I made enough for three people.”
Millie makes a small sound, and we both turn to look at her. She has a hand over her mouth, her eyes wide with what appears to be realization.
“Oh no,” she says, lowering her hand. “Was that for Caitlin? I was just so hungry, I had seconds.” She gives a little laugh. “Maybe thirds, actually. It was just so good, I couldn’t help myself.”
Adam’s brow furrows. “I’m pretty sure I told you I was saving a portion for Caitlin.”
Millie’s expression shifts to one of innocent confusion. “Did you? Oh gosh, I’m so sorry. I must not have been paying attention. You know how I get when I’m upset; I just zone out sometimes.” She looks at me, eyes wide and imploring. “I feel terrible, Caitlin. Really, I do.”
I don’t believe her for a second. The look in her eyes as she watches me from across the room is almost… triumphant. But Adam’s face has already cleared, his momentary doubt replaced by acceptance of her explanation.
“It’s okay,” he says, though I note he’s speaking to Millie, not to me. “Sorry Caitlin. I’ll make you a sandwich.”
“I am just so embarrassed,” Millie continues, getting up from the table and gathering her plate. “Here I am, going on about what a terrible day I’ve had, and now I’ve eaten your dinner! You must think I’m such a selfish person.”
I think you’re a manipulative bitch is what I want to say, but I hold my tongue, too tired to start another fight. “It’s fine,” I say instead, the words tasting like ash in my mouth.
“You’re just the sweetest,” Millie says, carrying her plate to the kitchen. “Isn’t she the sweetest, Adam? I don’t know how you got so lucky.”
Adam is busy assembling a sandwich for me, layers of cold cuts and cheese that look wholly unappealing after smelling the pasta he made. “Caitlin’s pretty great,” he agrees absently.
“So tell me about your job,” Millie says, leaning against the kitchen counter as Adam works. “Hailey mentioned you’re at that place right on the edge of town?”
“Rosie’s Diner,” I confirm, wishing she would just leave. “It’s fine. Busy.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever eaten there,” Millie coos, studying me over her wineglass. “What do they serve? Just like burgers and sandwiches?”
“Rosie’s has a much more varied menu than burgers,” I say, but I know it will not make a difference. In the eyes of Adam’s family and friends, I will never be anything more than a glorified burger flipper.
“I’ve been there for lunch a few times,” Adam chimes in, bringing me a plate with my sandwich. “It’s home-style comfort food, and it’s delicious. Caitlin is an amazing cook.” He gives me a proud smile, and I almost forgive him for the dinner debacle. Almost.
“That’s so cute,” she says with a smile that once again doesn’t reach her eyes. “You could just about star in one of those TV shows where the small-town cook has big dreams.”
Adam pours me a glass of wine to go with the sandwich. “Here, love,” he says, and I can see in his eyes that he knows this isn’t what I want, neither the food nor the company.
“Thanks,” I say, picking up half the sandwich without enthusiasm. I take a small bite, chewing mechanically.
“Anyway,” Millie continues, seemingly oblivious to the tension in the room, “I was telling Adam earlier about this patient last week who had the craziest injury…”
She launches into a detailed account that I immediately tune out, focusing instead on the sandwich that tastes like cardboard in my mouth. Adam sits in the armchair across from me, nodding at appropriate intervals as Millie talks, but his eyes keep flicking to me, gauging my reaction. I keep my face as neutral as possible, but I can feel my patience wearing thinner with each passing minute.
Millie’s laugh jolts me back to the present. It’s too loud for the small room.
