Page 47 of Love, Second Chances and Other Nonsense
14
Chapter 14
Adam
I wake to the gentle rocking of the ship and the dull realization that another day has begun on this floating nightmare. It’s been two days since I saw Rachel’s Instagram posts, three days of calling Caitlin’s number only to reach her voicemail, three days of increasingly desperate texts that remain unread. Sleep comes in fits and starts, interrupted by Rhonda’s quiet sobbing and Millie’s too-close presence in the cramped stateroom.
My mother insisted there was nothing meant by the sleeping arrangements. “Getting two staterooms with a connecting door was simply the most cost-effective way to do it,” but I know better. This is her matchmaking, as transparent as the Caribbean waters outside our porthole. I’ve taken to sleeping fully clothed, my back a rigid line at the edge of my narrow bed.
I reach for my phone before my eyes are fully open, checking for any sign of Caitlin. Nothing. My screen fills with yesterday’s unanswered messages:
Please just let me know you’re okay.
Can we talk? Just for five minutes?
Caitlin, please.
The desperation in my own words makes me cringe. I switch to Instagram, scrolling through Rachel’s feed for any new posts. Still nothing since the Thanksgiving photos that shattered my world — Caitlin, smiling with her family, looking more alive than I’ve seen her in months. The thought that keeps me awake at night: she’s happier without me.
“Morning.” Millie calls out softly, her voice sleepy and intimate in the half-light. “How’d you sleep?”
“Not great.” I sit up, already reaching for my shoes. I need to escape this room, this closeness. “Going for a walk.”
“I’ll come with—”
“No.” It comes out harsher than I intended. I soften my voice. “I just need some air. Alone.”
Her face falls, but I can’t bring myself to care. Every moment with her on this ship feels like I’m betraying Caitlin even more than I already have.
I find my parents at breakfast, sitting together in icy silence. Mom picks at her eggs, lips pursed in disapproval.
“The eggs are rubbery,” she announces to no one in particular. “And the coffee is bitter.”
Dad doesn’t look up from his phone. “Write a strongly worded letter.”
“I might just do that, Gerald. Someone should tell them that just because we’re on a boat doesn’t mean standards should go overboard.”
Her attempt at humor falls flat. Dad doesn’t even look up. “One more day,” he mutters.
“What was that?” Mom’s voice sharpens.
“Nothing, Paula. Just thinking out loud.”
I debate getting food and decide against it. “Where’s everyone else?”
“Lauren and Jake have already eaten and taken off.” Mom sniffs. “Hailey’s sleeping in. And Rhonda had a rough night, so Millie’s staying with her this morning.”
A small mercy. I pull out my phone, checking it again.
Mom’s eyes narrow. “Still no word from her, I take it?”
I don’t answer, which is answer enough.
“Well, perhaps this is for the best,” she continues, stirring her coffee with unnecessary force. “I’ve always thought you and Caitlin were moving too quickly. Sometimes these distractions need to run their course before you can see clearly.”
“Paula,” Dad warns, finally looking up.
“What? I’m only saying what we’re all thinking. Adam deserves someone who understands his responsibilities, his position in the community. Someone who appreciates family values.”
