Page 89 of Love, Second Chances and Other Nonsense
I’ve thought about this conversation for days, rehearsing what I want to say, what I need to know. But now that we’re here, I start with the question that’s been haunting me since shortly after we moved to Iowa.
“Do you love Millie? Romantically, I mean. Did you ever?”
“No.” His answer comes immediately, without hesitation. “I never had romantic feelings for Millie. Not when we dated in high school, never.”
“Then I don’t understand.” I clasp and unclasp my hands. “If you didn’t have feelings for her, why did you prioritize her over me so consistently? Why was she always there, always the center of everything?”
Adam takes a deep breath. “It’s complicated, but not because I had feelings for her. It was this combination of guilt and responsibility that had been drilled into me since I was a kid. My mother made me feel responsible for Millie’s happiness my entire life.”
I nod, thinking his answer over.
“Millie was always around.” I begin, the words tumbling out now. “Every time we went to your parents’ house, she was there. Every time we hung out with your friends, she was there. She was constantly stopping by our apartment.”
His expression turns pained. “I know.”
“I guess you did try to set boundaries sometimes, but it felt half-hearted. Like you were saying one thing to me and another to everyone else.” I swallow hard. “You told me Millie was just like one of your sisters, but literally everyone else was telling me something different. They’d talk about this great teenage love affair you two had, how devoted you were to her, how you’d taken care of her your whole life.”
I blink back unexpected tears. “Everyone treated me as if I were an intruder. Like as soon as I left, you and Millie could be together the way you were meant to be.”
“Caitlin,” Adam’s voice breaks slightly. “I am so sorry. You were the best thing that ever happened to me, and there is no good excuse for me failing you so badly.”
“It was hell,” I whisper. “You weren’t listening to me. You were telling me that Millie was like a little sister, but she was telling me she was your first love, your first kiss, your first…” I hesitate, then force myself to continue. “Your first lover. She told me once that she had parts of you I never would.”
Adam physically recoils, his face draining of color. “What did you just say?”
“Millie told me you two were lovers. Multiple times.”
“That’s a lie.” His voice is tight with anger; not at me, I realize, but at the revelation itself. “We were never lovers. Ever. Not even close.”
“Then why would she—”
“Because she’s manipulative and obsessed.” Agitation is visible in every line of his body. “Why didn’t you tell me she was saying these things?”
I shrug, feeling suddenly defensive. “What was I supposed to say? I didn’t want to look like a jealous shrew over something that had happened before you met me. It’s not like you didn’t have a life before me. I had previous relationships too.”
“Caitlin, look at me.” His eyes lock with mine, intense and earnest. “I never slept with Millie. I never would have. I never loved her romantically. I dated her for a year in high school because the guilt and pressure from my mother became too much to resist. We kissed, yes, but every time she tried to take it further I’d tell her I wanted to wait. That I didn’t want to go that far until we were out of high school.”
He takes a shaky breath. “She wasn’t even my first kiss. There was a girl I really liked in high school; her name was Evie. When my mother found out I had a crush on her, she forbade me from ever seeing her because it would ‘break Millie’s heart.’ But I kept sneaking around to see her anyway.”
A small, sad smile crosses his face. “Evie was my first kiss, my first everything, and it was the most awkward experience of my life because neither of us knew what we were doing. I broke it off when I finally gave in and started dating Millie. I felt too guilty continuing to see Evie behind everyone’s back.”
He turns towards me, not quite touching me but close. “I had relationships in college, yes. But you’re the only one who ever had my heart, Caitlin. You’re the only woman I’ve ever loved.”
The sincerity in his voice makes my chest ache. I want to believe him, but there’s so much to process.
“I need some time,” I tell him. “To think about everything we’ve talked about. I’d like to leave it there for today.”
Adam nods, leaning back. “Of course. Whatever you need.”
We sit in silence for a moment. There’s more to say, more to untangle, but it’s enough for now. A start.
“I’d like to bring you lunch tomorrow too,” I say as I stand to gather the empty containers. “And help with the house, if I can. Maybe we can talk more then.”
His face brightens with cautious hope. “I’d like that. I look forward to it.”
As I leave, I glance back at Adam, now standing in the doorway between the dining room and the demolished kitchen. There’s dust in his hair and sincerity in his eyes, and for the first time in months, I feel something like possibility unfolding between us.
Not forgiveness or trust, not yet. But perhaps the beginning of understanding.
