Page 17 of Love, Second Chances and Other Nonsense
Chapter 5
Caitlin
I lie belly down on our bed. Dinner at Adam’s parents’ is long over, but Adam isn’t home yet. Paula asked Adam to drop something off at Rhonda and Millie’s place for her. He assured me it would only take a minute. That was over two hours ago.
I stare at the picture of Adam and me on the nightstand. It’s one of my favorites, taken on a hike at Garden of the Gods in Colorado. Our life together used to be full of adventures, both big and small.
I’d met Adam after several years of drifting around the country, trying to find my place. The grandmother who’d raised me had died soon after I graduated high school. My aunt and uncle insisted I’d always have a home with them, but I’d been afraid of being a burden and left soon after my grandmother’s funeral.
Before Adam, I’d felt unmoored and anchorless. And then suddenly, it was like I’d had a home again. Wherever he was, that’s where I belonged.
Life before Iowa had been wonderful. We’d explored the Colorado wilderness every chance we had, hiking, camping, kayaking. It had been under a sky full of stars in Mueller State Park that Adam had slipped his grandmother’s ring onto my finger and asked me to marry him.
I’ve never felt about anyone the way I feel about you, Caitlin. I want to spend every day of the rest of my life with you. Please marry me?
Not long after that, Adam’s father had suffered a minor heart attack. Adam had been persuaded to come back to Iowa to take over Kelley Property Managment so his father could retire. And here we were. The adventures had stopped. And increasingly, Adam was no longer feeling like home.
Suddenly desperate to see a friendly face, I pull my tablet out of my nightstand drawer and tap the screen a few times. A second later and my cousin Rachel’s face appears, her blonde hair framing her face, the sun setting behind her through a window draped with what looks like a tie-dyed sheet. Her apartment is exactly what you’d expect from Rachel — bright and cluttered with plants everywhere, and crystals catching light on every surface. Looking at her familiar smile makes my throat tighten unexpectedly.
“Caitlin!!” Rachel beams, leaning closer to her camera. “God, I miss your freckled face. Hey! Come see what I did to my kitchen!”
There’s a blur of movement, and then she’s aiming the screen so I can see into her small galley kitchen. The walls and cabinets have all been painted bright shades of teal and coral.
Rachel’s face fills the screen again. “Isn’t it perfect! Mom just about had a heart attack when she saw it though.”
I laugh, imagining my Aunt Charlene’s reaction. She thinks beige is an exciting and vibrant shade.
“So how’s life in the corn kingdom?” Rachel plops down on her couch and folds her legs up under her.
I force a smile. “It’s…you know. Fine.”
She raises a brow. “Caitlin…not saying I don’t believe you, but that was the least convincing ‘fine’ I’ve ever heard. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong, exactly,” I say, fiddling with a loose thread on my sleeve. “Just adjusting still. It’s different here.”
“Different how? Adam’s-mom-still-hates-you kind of different or where-the hell-are-the-beaches kind of different?”
“Both,” I admit. “Plus, my-fiancé-is-never-around kind of different.”
Rachel leans closer to the screen with a concerned frown. “Spill. All of it.”
And so I do. The words tumble out of me, about the funeral, about Millie’s constant need for Adam, about Paula’s thinly veiled disdain, about the weeks of loneliness. As I talk, my vision blurs with unexpected tears.
“I feel like I’m disappearing,” I say, wiping my cheek with the back of my hand. “Like I’m fading a little more every day. We barely talk. He’s always at Millie’s house, or she’s here, or he’s taking her somewhere. And when I try to say anything, I’m the bad guy for not being understanding enough.”
“Has he actually said that?”
“Not in those words, but…” I trail off, remembering his face when I questioned him about not being invited to his parents’ house after the funeral. “It’s implied. Everyone here thinks she walks on water. She had cancer as a kid, you know? And now, her dad died. So she’s untouchable.”
Rachel lets out a very inelegant snort. “Cancer doesn’t give you a free pass to steal someone’s fiancé.”
“She’s not…he’s not…” I stop, unable to finish the denial convincingly.
“Caitlin,” Rachel says in that ‘I’m about to tell you how it is’ voice of hers. “I love you. And you are the most forgiving, understanding person on the planet. And I love that about you. But you need to stop being so damn accommodating that you let people walk all over you.”
“I’m not—”
“You are. You always have been. Remember in high school when you let that girl — what was her name? The one with the bangs?”
