Page 82 of Love, Second Chances and Other Nonsense
“I’ve been thinking about your offer,” I begin, meeting his eyes directly. “To help with Grandma’s house.”
“And?” His voice is carefully neutral, but I can see the tension in his shoulders, the way he’s bracing himself for rejection.
“I’d like to take you up on it.” The words come out in a rush. “If the offer still stands.”
His face transforms, a slow smile spreading across it that reaches all the way to his eyes. “It absolutely still stands.”
“Great. I was thinking maybe you could come out on Saturday? Around ten? I can bring the contractor reports, and you can take a look at everything.”
He nods, looking so genuinely happy that I almost feel bad about my next words. Almost.
“Just to be clear,” I add, my voice firmer now, “this doesn’t mean anything other than I really want to save my grandmother’s house and don’t see another way to do so. This isn’t…” I wave a hand between us, “anything else.”
His smile dims a fraction, but he nods again. “I understand. Saving your grandmother’s house is the priority. No expectations beyond that.”
“Okay.” I exhale, relieved he’s not pushing or trying to read more into this than there is. “Good.”
“Saturday at ten,” he confirms. “I’ll be there. And Caitlin?” He waits until I meet his eyes again. “Thank you. For trusting me with this.”
There’s such sincerity in his voice that I don’t know how to respond. Thankfully, I’m saved by the back door swinging open. Jenny, the other server on shift, pokes her head out, her eyes landing on Adam.
“There you are,” she says, sounding harried. “Peter’s looking for you. Says you need to clean the men’s bathroom before you clock out.”
Adam’s face falls. “The men’s bathroom? I wiped it down just this morning.”
Jenny grimaces, pushing the door wider with her hip as she steps out, a blue bucket of cleaning supplies in one hand, yellow rubber gloves in the other. “Yeah, well, Mr. Mills just left, and Peter says it’s all hands on deck for this one.”
“Mr. Mills?” Adam echoes, horror dawning on his face.
“Yep.” Jenny nods gravely. “And I’m just warning you, he had the double bacon cheeseburger, two orders of onion rings, and the chili tonight.” She hands him the bucket and gloves. “So there’s probably a mess in there. Good luck.”
Adam takes the cleaning supplies like a man accepting his own execution, his expression morphing from joy to despair in record time. “I was so close to escaping for the day,” he protests weakly.
“Yeah, well, I still have tables to serve,” Jenny says with a shrug. “Otherwise I’d help you, Adam. Honest.” Jenny throws the last bit over her shoulder as she escapes back inside.
I press my lips together, trying desperately not to laugh as Adam’s face cycles through all five stages of grief.
“Regretting all your life decisions?” I ask cheerfully.
Adam turns to me, his expression so pitiful that a giggle escapes before I can stop it. He narrows his eyes. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”
“No,” I lie, then immediately cave. “Yes. A little.”
“I’m glad my suffering amuses you,” he says, but there’s no real heat in it. In fact, I catch the corner of his mouth twitching upward.
“Consider it part of your penance,” I suggest, feeling a perverse pleasure in his predicament. After all the times he let me down in Iowa, there’s something deeply satisfying about seeing him taken down a peg or two. Is that petty? Probably. Do I care? Not even a little.
“Fair enough.” He sighs, pulling on the yellow gloves with exaggerated resignation. “I suppose I deserve this and worse.”
“Probably,” I agree, unable to keep the smile from my voice. “Good luck in there. Rachel used to say Mr. Mills’s bathroom visits were ‘biblical’ in their destructive power.”
Adam winces. “That’s… vivid.”
“Just wait,” I say, already backing toward the door. “You haven’t seen vivid yet.”
“Saturday at ten?” he confirms, somehow managing to look both excited about our house project and horrified about his immediate future.
“Saturday at ten,” I agree. “Don’t forget to hold your breath.”
