Page 70 of Love, Second Chances and Other Nonsense
Then it’s worth trying. I’d do anything to prove to her that if she can just give me her trust one more time, I’ll cherish that trust and I’ll never betray it ever again.
Decision made, I reach for the door handle, then hesitate. What will I say to Peter? I need to be completely honest about my intentions. No manipulation, no games. Just the truth: I love his niece, I screwed up monumentally, and I want a chance to make things right.
I take a deep breath, checking my reflection in the rearview mirror. I look tired, my eyes shadowed from too many nights of fitful sleep. My hair is getting too long, curling at the nape of my neck in a way my mother would hate. Good. Let it grow. Maybe I’ll even grow a beard to go with it.
Before I can talk myself out of it, I step out of the car and walk purposefully to the back door of Louise’s Table. Through the small window, I can see movement in the kitchen. Someoneis chopping vegetables, and steam is rising from a large pot on the stove. My stomach tightens with nerves, but I force myself to raise my hand and knock.
This is it. The first real step toward winning Caitlin back, or the first step in learning to let her go for good. Either way, there’s no turning back now.
The kitchen door swings open to reveal Peter Hughes, his sleeves rolled up, a dish towel slung over his shoulder. He freezes when he sees me, recognition followed quickly by annoyance. For a moment we just stare at each other, Peter looking like he can’t decide if he should talk to me or just shut the door in my face.
“Kelley,” he says finally, my last name sounding like an accusation on his lips. “Didn’t expect to see you again after November.”
I swallow hard, forcing myself to meet his gaze. “Mr. Hughes. I was hoping I could speak with you for a moment.”
He considers this, studying me with the careful assessment of a man who’s seen his share of trouble. After what feels like an eternity, he nods once, steps back, and holds the door wider.
“Come in, then. But make it quick. Dinner rush starts soon.”
I step into the warm kitchen, immediately enveloped by the scents of simmering soup and freshly baked bread. It smells like Caitlin’s cooking, like the meals she used to make before everything fell apart. The thought makes my chest ache.
“I saw the sign in the window,” I begin, gesturing vaguely toward the front of the restaurant. “You’re hiring.”
Peter’s eyebrows shoot up, surprise momentarily replacing the suspicion on his face. “You’re here about a job?”
“Yes, sir.”
He studies me for a long moment, then lets out a short, disbelieving laugh. “A job. Here. At Louise’s Table.” He shakeshis head, turning to stir something in a large pot. “And why would I hire you exactly?”
The question hangs in the air, heavy with all the things he’s not saying. Why would he hire the man who broke his niece’s heart? The man whose family treated her like she was less than nothing?
“I have experience in business management and construction,” I offer, knowing how weak it sounds. “I could help with—”
“Let me stop you right there,” Peter interrupts, setting down his wooden spoon with deliberate care. He turns to face me fully, arms crossed over his chest. “I’m not hiring someone to manage the place. We do that just fine on our own. We’re looking for a server. But even if I were looking for someone with your experience, why in God’s name would I hire you? After what you and your family did to Caitlin?”
The directness of his question catches me off guard, though it shouldn’t. I’d prepared myself for hostility, for skepticism, but the quiet intensity of his anger is somehow worse than any shouting could be.
“I don’t suppose there’s much reason from your point of view,” I admit with a shrug.
“You stood by and watched while your mother treated her like dirt,” Peter continues, his voice low but sharp. “You let that girl, Millie, undermine her at every turn. You abandoned her again and again. Do you have any idea what that did to her?”
Each accusation lands like a physical blow. I don’t flinch away from them; I deserve every word.
“Yes,” I say quietly. “I was a coward. I failed her in every way a man can fail the woman he loves.”
Peter snorts. “Love. That’s what you call it?” He turns back to the stove, stirring with more force than necessary. “If that’s love, I’d hate to see indifference.”
“Look,” Peter says, his voice marginally softer, “Caitlin’s finally getting her feet under her. The last thing she needs is you showing up, stirring everything up again.”
“I understand your concern,” I say carefully. “But I didn’t move here on a whim. I’ve made major changes in my life, and I’m committed to showing Caitlin that I can be the man she deserves.”
“And you think working at her family’s restaurant is the way to do that?” Peter’s skepticism is palpable. “Sounds more like stalking to me.”
“It’s not like that,” I protest, though I can see how it might appear that way. “I heard the restaurant was struggling, and I thought I could help. I have skills that could be useful.”
Peter’s eyes narrow. “And who told you we were struggling?”
I don’t want to admit I’ve been poking around, so I just say, “Small town. People talk.”
