Page 97 of Love, Second Chances and Other Nonsense
“Caitlin, I—”
“And now I find out it wasn’t just once. It was several times a week.” I finally face him, anger and hurt bubbling up from some deep well inside me. “Did you ever stop to think what that might feel like for me? Did you ever consider what message that sent? You were acting like her devoted lover in our home!”
“No,” he says simply. “I didn’t. I was too caught up in trying to meet everyone else’s expectations to see how deeply I was hurting you.” His voice breaks slightly. “I failed you, Caitlin. I know that. And I’m so, so sorry.”
I close my eyes for a moment, feeling tears threaten. “I need some time. To process this.”
“Of course,” he says immediately. “We don’t have to talk about it anymore today.”
“No, I mean…” I open my eyes, forcing myself to look at him directly. “I need some space right now. Let’s just work.”
He nods, accepting this boundary without protest. “Whatever you need.”
We return to the kitchen, working together to remove the countertop from the cabinet. Several times a week. The words echo in my head as I work. I’d thought that all the hurt from ourtime in Iowa had scabbed over, but now I realize it’s still there, raw and bleeding just beneath the surface. And I don’t know if hearing the truth makes it better or worse.
The sandwich sits heavy in my hand as I stare at the makeshift picnic we’ve laid out on an overturned wooden crate. Adam sits across from me on a stack of lumber we salvaged from the pantry, the space between us thick with unspoken words. We’ve been working in silence for nearly two hours. My shoulders and back ache, but it’s nothing compared to the ache in my chest.
Adam takes a bite of his sandwich, his eyes flicking to mine before dropping back to his food. He’s giving me space, not pushing. Part of me appreciates it. Another part wants to scream.
“I want to talk about the Halloween party,” I say abruptly, setting my barely touched sandwich down.
His hand stills, sandwich halfway to his mouth. He lowers it slowly. “Okay.”
“We spent weeks planning it, remember? I made all that food, decorated the apartment.” My voice is surprisingly steady. “And then when Millie arrived, you practically fell over yourself getting to her. You spent the entire night at her side, getting her drinks and food, making sure she was having a good time.” The memory still stings, sharp and clear. “Meanwhile, I was refilling drinks and bringing out food, trying to join conversations, and not one of your friends, or you for that matter, seemed to notice that I was there.”
Adam sets his sandwich down, shame evident in the slump of his shoulders. “I know,” he says quietly. “I can still see your face as you stood there watching everyone. You looked so… alone.”
“Why?” The question comes out more plaintively than I intend. “Why did you do that to me? Why was she always more important?”
He looks up at me, his eyes filled with a regret so genuine it makes my breath catch. “She’d been texting me all week about how depressed she was. How she didn’t even want to get out of bed. How she wasn’t sure she was going to make it to the party because she was just so miserable.” He rubs his forehead, leaving another smudge of dust. “When she actually showed up, I was so relieved. I thought it meant she was feeling better. And when she seemed to be having a good time, I was determined to keep it that way.”
I shake my head, disbelief warring with a strange, sad understanding. “And it never occurred to you that she might be manipulating you? That this might be a pattern?”
“Not then, no.” Adam’s voice hardens, but I can tell the anger isn’t directed at me. “Now I can see it so clearly, and I’m furious with myself for falling for it. Every time I had plans with you, or we were doing something important together, she’d suddenly be in crisis. And I’d drop everything, leave you behind, because I believed she needed me.”
“She did need you,” I say, surprising myself with the bitter edge in my voice. “She needed you to abandon me at every turn. She needed you to prioritize her over your fiancée. She needed you to make me feel like I was the intruder in your life, not her. And you made sure she got what she needed.”
“You’re right.” He doesn’t try to defend himself or minimize it. “I did. I let her get away with it. I played right into it, time after time.”
I take a shaky breath. “I want to talk about the cruise next.”
Adam’s expression shifts to something like alarm. “Are you sure? We’ve covered a lot of ground today already. Maybe we should take some time to process before we dive into that.”
“No.” I’m surprised by the firmness in my own voice. “I’m tired of wondering about everything that happened. I’m tired of thinking about it all. I want to get it out in the open. All of it.”
“Caitlin—”
“Every time I think about Thanksgiving, I feel like I can’t breathe. You would have left me sitting alone in our apartment while you were on a cruise with your family and Millie. You say you love me, and yet you left me.” The words tumble out now, unstoppable. “I have spent months turning it over in my mind, trying to understand why. I uprooted my whole life so that you could be close to your family and take over your family’s business, and you would have left me alone.”
“I know, and I’m so sorry. But Caitlin, this is a lot,” he says gently. “I just don’t want to overwhelm you. We could take a break, come back to it tomorrow—”
“I don’t want to take a break,” I interrupt, my voice rising slightly. “I want answers. I want to understand how things got so broken between us, because if I don’t, I’ll never be able to move forward, with or without you.”
His eyes widen slightly at this, and I realize it’s the first time I’ve explicitly acknowledged that there might be a future for us. I hadn’t meant to say it, not yet, but it’s true. Part of me is still drawn to him, still loves him despite everything. And that terrifies me.
“I want to know it all, Adam. Every painful detail. Because only then can I decide if what we had is worth salvaging.” I meet his gaze directly. “Can you understand that?”
He holds my eyes for a long moment, then nods slowly. “Yes. I can understand that.”
