Page 48 of Love, Second Chances and Other Nonsense
“Someone like Millie, you mean?” I can’t keep the bitterness out of my voice.
Mom has the grace to look slightly abashed. “I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to.” I stand unable to stomach another minute of this conversation. “I’m going to the pool.”
I spend the rest of the day trying to avoid my family and Millie with mixed results, slipping from one place to another whenever I see anyone approaching. By late afternoon, after what feels like an endless loop around the ship, I find myself back on deck, leaning against the railing, and savoring the solitude.
“There you are! We’ve been looking for you.” I hear my mother’s voice cutting through the sound of the waves. “Adam!”I turn slowly, my stomach sinking as she strides toward me, flanked by Millie.
“Yeah, I was just—” I start, but she interrupts, her expression frustrated.
“Why haven’t you spent more time with everyone? This is a family trip, not a retreat for you to sulk.” Her tone is sharp, and I can feel Millie’s eyes on me, waiting for my response.
“I just needed some space, mom” I reply, trying to keep my voice steady.
“Space isn’t what you need right now. You should be connecting with us, not hiding away. This trip was supposed to be a way to help Millie and Rhonda through their first major holiday without Eric, remember?” She crosses her arms, and I can see the disappointment etched on her face. “Millie tells me you’ve barely done anything with her since Thanksgiving. She feels like you’re avoiding her.” Guilt twists in my gut at Mom’s words.
I glance over at Millie, who’s leaning against the railing a few feet away, her dark hair blowing in the sea breeze. She catches me looking and smiles, that same small, sad smile she’s perfected over years of being the girl everyone feels sorry for. Once, that smile could make me drop everything to rush to her side. Now, all I feel is resentment.
“Maybe we could all do something together?” She asks, glancing between Mom and me.
I want to scream that spending time with Millie is the last thing I want to do. Instead, I force a smile. “Maybe later.”
My mother narrows her eyes, clearly unconvinced. “Later isn’t good enough, Adam. You’re not being a very good friend to Millie right now.”
They stand there, waiting for me to engage, to give in like I always do. And all I wish is that I could just disappear into the ocean.
“Not right now, Mom. I’m sorry.” I ignore her small gasp. It’s not often that one of her children doesn’t jump to do what she wants. I turn and walk away, feeling their eyes on my back.
“Adam!” Millie catches up to me and grabs my arm. “Adam, please tell me what’s wrong. I could help you. Or,” she places one of her hands on my chest and presses herself closer, “I could distract you.”
Nausea churns inside me at the thought, and I yank my arm out of her grasp, stepping back with a suddenness that startles her.
“No, Millie,” I say, while she stands there gaping at me, “that’s never happening.”
Unable to stand either of them for another moment, I turn and walk away.
* * *
My phone buzzes, and my heart leaps, but it’s just Lauren, asking where I am because dinner is in an hour. I text back that I’ll meet them there, then return to staring at the horizon, wondering what Caitlin is doing right now. Is she thinking about me at all? Does she miss me as much as I miss her? Do I have any chance of fixing things?
Dinner is a minefield. Rhonda’s eyes are red-rimmed, her glass of wine already empty when I arrive. Mom and Dad won’t even look at each other and speak only when necessary. Hailey chatters nervously to fill the silence, while Lauren and Jake exchange looks that say they’d rather be anywhere else.
Only Millie seems genuinely happy, her hand finding my arm as I take my seat beside her. “I missed you today,” she says, leaning close enough that I can smell her perfume. “I hope you’re feeling better?”
“Yeah, just needed some space.” I shift my chair slightly away.
“Well, you’re here now.” Her smile is warm and intimate. “And you look very handsome tonight.”
Before I can respond, my parents launch into their latest argument, something about the excursion Dad went on today without consulting Mom. Their voices grow sharper with each exchange, other diners glancing our way with thinly veiled curiosity.
“I don’t understand why you couldn’t have discussed it with me first,” Mom hisses. “You know I get seasick on small boats.”
“That’s why I booked it for myself, Paula. Not everything is about you.”
“Clearly, nothing is about me on this trip—”
“That you planned,” Dad interrupts. “You insisted on it. And it’s costing me a small fortune for the privilege of listening to you complain every damned moment of the day.”
