Page 25 of Love, Second Chances and Other Nonsense
“Adam? Where’d you go? Beer pong is about to start!”
Millie. Of course.
Adam looks torn, glancing between me and the door. “I should…” he begins.
“Go,” I say flatly. “Of course you should go. That’s what you always do.”
“Caitlin—”
“Adam!” Millie’s voice again, closer this time. “Come on, we’re waiting for you!”
“I’ll be right back,” Adam promises, standing up. “We can finish this conversation in a few minutes.”
“Sure,” I say, not believing him for a second. “A few minutes.”
He hesitates, clearly conflicted, but Millie calls his name once more and the decision is made. He gives me one last apologetic look before slipping out the door.
I wait, listening to the muffled sounds of the party continuing without me. Minutes stretch into an hour, then another and another. The noise gradually dies down as guests leave. Still, Adam doesn’t return.
Eventually, I hear the front door close one last time, followed by silence. Then Adam’s footsteps in the hallway, stopping outside the bedroom door. There’s a pause, a moment where I think he might come in.
But then the footsteps move away, toward the kitchen. The sound of cleaning up begins, glasses clinking, trash bags rustling.
I lie back on the bed, still in my Princess Buttercup dress, staring at the ceiling. The tears I’ve been holding back all night finally spill over, tracking silently down my temples and into my hair.
Adam doesn’t come back. I’m more convinced than ever that he never will.
7
Chapter 7
Caitlin
My feet throb with each step I take toward our apartment building. Ten hours of cooking at Rosie’s has left every muscle in my body aching. All I want is to collapse on our couch with a glass of wine, maybe two, and convince Adam to rub my swollen feet. That’s assuming he’s even home and not with Millie. Again.
The cold November wind cuts through my thin jacket, and I hurry my pace, longing for the warmth of our apartment. It’s been a week since the Halloween party. Adam never came to bed that night, choosing to sleep on the couch instead. The next morning, both of us were carefully polite with each other. We still haven’t talked about what happened that night.
Before the party, things had been improving. Adam had made an effort to be home for dinner most nights. We’d had a few dates, just like he’d promised. But I can feel him slipping away again, the gravitational pull of Millie drawing him backinto her orbit. Yesterday, he didn’t come home until after I was already asleep.
At least I have a job now. Working at Rosie’s has turned out to be the best thing that has happened to me since moving to Mount Pella. I’ve always loved feeding people, always taken satisfaction from watching them leave my table happy and satisfied. Business has been booming since I started, and I feel a secret thrill every night when I peek out the kitchen doors into the full dining area.
Iris is a good boss. She’s no-nonsense and has high standards for all her workers, but she’s also fair, and as long as you take care not to get on her bad side, she’s kind, with a wicked sense of humor. After watching her deliver a tongue-lashing to a rude delivery person that had the six foot five, mountain of a man practically in tears, I take care not to get on her bad side.
I also enjoy the people I work with. I’d almost forgotten how nice it is to spend time with people who are friendly and genuinely want to spend time with me, who don’t treat me like an unwanted stranger they’re being forced to tolerate. Several of the girls have even invited me out for drinks after work a few times.
As I reach our door, I pause. I can hear a voice inside. Not Adam’s; it’s higher pitched and more feminine. I take a deep breath and push my key into the lock, plastering a neutral expression on my face as I open the door. The smell of garlic and cooked food hits me first, rich and inviting. Then I see her sitting at our dining table, fork in hand, plate nearly empty in front of her. Adam is nowhere in sight.
Millie turns at the sound of the door, her face lighting up with a smile so bright it could power a small city.
“Caitlin!” she exclaims, like we’re long-lost friends unexpectedly reunited. “There you are! I was wondering when you’d get home.”
I set my purse down slowly, still taking in the scene. There are two plates on the table, one in front of her, and one across from her, Adam’s, presumably. The serving dish in the center has maybe a small spoonful of what looks like pasta left in it.
“Millie,” I say, my voice flat. “What a surprise.”
She doesn’t seem to register my lack of enthusiasm. “Adam is such a sweetheart,” she continues, spearing the last bite from her plate. “I was having the worst day. Just completely down in the dumps. Mom’s been so distracted lately, and the house is so quiet without Daddy…” Her eyes well up with tears that she quickly blinks away. “Anyway, Adam called to check on me, and when he realized I hadn’t eaten all day, he insisted I come over for dinner. He made the most amazing pasta. You’re so lucky to have a man who can cook like that.”
Before I can respond, the bathroom door opens and Adam steps out. He freezes momentarily when he sees me, guilt flashing across his face before he recovers.
