Page 72 of Love, Second Chances and Other Nonsense
I look down at my hands, forcing myself to continue. “I knew we weren’t okay, and I went on that cruise anyway. It was miserable. All I could think about was Caitlin, alone on Thanksgiving, while I was surrounded by people who treated her horribly. Then I found out she was back in Oregon, and I tried calling, texting, but she never replied. So I flew to Oregon.”
“I remember,” Peter says dryly. “You weren’t exactly welcome.”
I nod, acknowledging the understatement. “After you sent me home, things came to a head at Christmas dinner. My mother, one of my sisters, and Millie started tearing Caitlin apart — her appearance, her job, her background. Things got ugly. But something in me finally snapped. I told them all exactly what I thought of their behavior. I told them I was moving to Oregon to win her back.”
Peter’s eyebrows rise slightly, the first hint of genuine surprise.
“My sister Lauren bought me out of the family business. She always wanted it more than I did, anyway. I left Iowa on New Year’s Day, and I haven’t looked back. I cut my mother, my sister, and Millie out of my life completely. Blocked their numbers, their social media, everything.”
“That’s quite a dramatic change,” Peter observes, his tone carefully neutral. “What brought it on exactly?”
“Losing Caitlin made me finally look at what my cowardice was costing me. The person I was becoming, the one my family wanted me to be — it wasn’t me. It wasn’t the man Caitlin fell in love with in Colorado. I’d let them change me, make me smaller, weaker.” Meeting his eyes directly, I tell him, “I don’t blame Caitlin for leaving. She deserved so much better than what I gave her.”
Peter is silent for a long moment, studying my face. I force myself to hold his gaze, to let him see the truth in my eyes.
“I don’t expect her to forgive me,” I say softly. “I don’t expect her to give me another chance. She has absolutely no reason to believe anything I say or do. I’ve repeatedly proven myself unworthy of her trust.”
“Then why are you here?” Peter asks, not unkindly. “Why put yourself through this?”
“Because even if she never loves me again, I need her to know that I know how badly I failed her. That I’m truly sorry. That I’ve changed.” I swallow hard. “And because I still love her. I never stopped. I never will.”
“Love isn’t always enough,” Peter says, echoing words Caitlin had said to me in November.
“I know that now. Love without courage, without action, it’s meaningless.” I straighten my shoulders slightly. “That’s why I want to help with the restaurant, regardless of whether Caitlin ever forgives me. I’ve heard things aren’t going well. I have skills that could be useful — accounting, marketing, business planning. I also have experience in construction and can help fix things. But I’d be just as happy washing dishes or serving tables. Whatever helps most.”
“And you think throwing yourself into saving our restaurant will win her back?” There’s a hint of skepticism in his voice.
I shake my head firmly. “No. I’m not that naïve. I know there’s nothing I can do to guarantee she’ll give me another chance. This isn’t about winning her back; it’s about being the kind of man who deserves her, whether she ever chooses me again or not.”
Peter’s expression shifts slightly, something unreadable flickering in his eyes.
“I promise you, if my presence makes Caitlin uncomfortable in any way, I’ll leave immediately. I won’t use this job as an excuse to pressure her or force interactions. I’ll keep my distance if that’s what she wants. I just…” I trail off, searching for the right words. “I just want to be in her orbit again. To show her through actions, not just words, that I’ve changed.”
“And if she’s dating someone else?” Peter asks, his gaze sharp. “If she’s moving on with her life?”
The question stings, but I force myself to answer honestly. “Then I’ll respect that completely. Her happiness is what matters most to me. If she’s found that with someone else, I won’t interfere.”
Peter sighs heavily, running a hand through his graying hair. “You know, Adam, I liked you when we first met. When you and Caitlin came to visit that summer before you moved to Iowa. You two seemed like a good match, and you were clearly crazy about her.”
“I was,” I say softly. “I still am.”
“But then you took her to Iowa, and every time she called home, she sounded a little smaller, a little less herself. Charlene and I worried about her, but we tried to give it time.” His eyes harden slightly. “Then she called Rachel after that Halloween party, crying so hard she could barely understand her. That’s when we knew it was bad. Rachel and I were just about ready to go to Iowa and bring her home ourselves.”
Shame washes over me anew. “I didn’t know she had called you that night.”
“There’s a lot you didn’t know because you weren’t paying attention.” He shakes his head. “Do you know what she told us? That she felt invisible. That your friends looked through her like she wasn’t even there.”
I close my eyes briefly, the pain of these revelations sharp and immediate. “I wish I’d acted differently that night. It’s one of many things I’ll always regret.”
“You should think about why you allowed it to happen. If you loved her, why would you allow her to be treated that way? Hell, forget for a moment your friends ignoring her; why would you ignore her?” Peter says, and while it’s not quite an accusation, it still carries the sting of rebuke. “If you are going to have any chance with her, you’re going to need to explain why you behaved the way you did.”
“I know. None of it should ever have happened. I’d been told my entire life that I had an obligation to take care of Millie, that she needed me, that she depended on me, and I was torn between that and my feelings for Caitlin. I was just trying to keep the peace between everyone…” I trail off, then meet his eyes again. “It shouldn’t have happened. None of it should have happened. Caitlin should have always been my priority.”
Peter nods slowly, as if my answer has confirmed something for him. He stands, signaling that our conversation is ending. “I appreciate your honesty, Adam. I can’t say I’m ready to welcome you with open arms, but I believe you’re sincere in your regret.”
I stand too, hope fluttering cautiously in my chest. “Thank you, sir.”
“Don’t thank me yet,” he warns. “I still need to talk to Caitlin. If she doesn’t want you here, that’s the end of it. Her well-being comes first.”
