7. Chapter 7 #2
I watch as Adam helps her into her coat, how she turns just so, allowing her body to brush against his as she slips her arms into the sleeves.
She knows exactly what she’s doing. Every move is calculated, every touch and glance designed to stake her claim.
And Adam, for all his intelligence, is completely blind to it.
“I’ll text you tomorrow,” she says as she steps into the hallway. “Thanks again for dinner. You really saved my day.”
“Anytime,” Adam replies, and the word sends a spike of anger through me. Anytime? Really?
He closes the door behind her and turns to face me, his expression a mixture of apology and defensiveness. “I know that wasn’t ideal,” he says, moving back to the living room. “I should have texted to let you know she was coming over.”
“Why was she here at all?” I ask, too exhausted to sugarcoat my feelings. “This is our home, Adam. My home.”
“She was having a rough day,” Adam says, his voice taking on that familiar defensive tone he always uses when discussing Millie.
“Rhonda called my mom, worried because Millie hadn’t eaten all day.
Mom asked if I could check on her, and when I called, she sounded…
” He runs a hand through his hair. “She sounded really low, Cait. Really depressed. I was worried.”
“So worried that you invited her to our apartment and cooked her dinner without even mentioning it to me?”
“I didn’t think it would be a big deal,” he says, frustration creeping into his voice. “It was just dinner.”
“She ate my portion on purpose,” I say flatly. “You know she did.”
Adam’s face hardens. “Why are you so determined to always think the worst of her? It was a misunderstanding.”
“A misunderstanding? Adam, she’s not stupid. She knew exactly what she was doing.”
“You’re being paranoid,” he says, the words hitting me like a slap. “She made a mistake. She apologized. Why can’t you just let it go?”
“Because this isn’t just about dinner!” I explode, my exhaustion giving way to anger.
“This is about her constantly inserting herself into our lives, into our home, and you letting her. This is about her deliberately trying to come between us, and you not only allowing it but defending her every time!”
“That’s ridiculous,” Adam says, but there’s a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. “Millie’s not trying to come between us. She’s my friend, and she’s going through a hard time.”
“She’s been going through a ‘hard time’ for months now,” I say, making air quotes with my fingers. “And somehow, it always requires your undivided attention.”
Adam’s jaw tightens. “Her father died, Caitlin. That’s not something you just get over.”
The unfairness of this stings. As if I, of all people, wouldn’t understand grief and loss. “I know that,” I say, my voice quieter now. “But that doesn’t give her the right to take over our lives.”
Adam sighs, his anger seeming to deflate. “You’re right. And I should have checked with you before inviting her over. I’m sorry.”
It’s not enough, but I’m too tired to keep arguing. I stand up from the couch, leaving the half-eaten sandwich behind. “I’m going to bed.”
“Wait,” Adam says, reaching for my hand. “Let me make it up to you. Let’s go out to dinner on Sunday, just the two of us. Anywhere you want.”
I look at him, at his hopeful expression, at the sincerity in his dark eyes, and I want so badly to believe that this time will be different. That a dinner date will somehow fix the growing chasm between us. That I won’t spend the entire meal wondering when Millie’s going to steal him away from me.
“Fine,” I say, too exhausted to argue. “Sunday dinner.”
He smiles, relieved. “Great. It’ll be nice, I promise. Just us.”
I nod and turn toward the bedroom, my body heavy with fatigue and something deeper, something that feels a lot like resignation. Behind me, I hear Adam start to clean up — the clatter of dishes, a familiar sound that used to mean home.
Now, I’m not sure what home means anymore. I’m not sure I have one anymore.
* * *
Sunday arrives, and I’m feeling almost excited about my date with Adam. I’ve put on the green dress that I know is his favorite. My hair falls in soft blonde waves past my shoulders, and I take special care with my makeup.
Adam whistles when I emerge from the bedroom. “You look incredible.”
His phone buzzes before I can answer. I watch his face change as he reads the text.
“It’s Rhonda,” he says, and my heart sinks. “Millie’s having an anxiety attack, and Rhonda is worried.”
“Adam, no.” I already know where this is going.
“I’ll just stop by for a few minutes to make sure she’s okay,” he says, grabbing his keys. “You head to the restaurant and get us a table. I’ll meet you there in thirty minutes tops.”
I want to argue, to remind him of his promise, but the set of his jaw tells me it’s pointless. “Fine. Don’t be late.”
He kisses me quickly. “I won’t. I love you.”
I sit alone at the restaurant for nearly an hour. I order wine. I check my phone. I make excuses to the sympathetic waitress. He doesn’t call. He doesn’t text. I finally pay for my single glass of wine and drive home, my fancy dress and carefully applied makeup feeling like a cruel joke.
The house is dark when I arrive. I change into sweats and curl up in my favorite armchair.
It’s past eleven when headlights finally sweep across the driveway. Adam comes in looking defeated.
Neither of us says anything. Adam collapses on the couch, head and shoulders bent, hands clasped in front of him.
“I’m so sorry, Caitlin. So, so sorry. Millie hasn’t had a panic attack that bad since the funeral. It took a long time to get her calmed down. I just–”
“You just couldn’t even take thirty seconds to let me know you weren’t coming?” I ask, my voice dead, with no hint of emotion.
“It was chaos. Rhonda was beside herself, and Millie was…well, I just wasn’t thinking straight. I’m so sorry.”
“I think we should break up.” The words surprise me as much as they surprise him. “I can’t do this anymore. I don’t want to do this anymore.”
“What? No!” Panic flashes across his face, and in a flash he’s off the couch and kneeling in front of me. “Please don’t do this.”
“I don’t want to do this anymore, Adam. Ever since Eric died, I’ve been invisible to you.
I moved to a place where I know no one and have no one except you.
I did it so that we could be together. And I feel so abandoned.
You’re never here. You don’t keep your promises. Millie always comes first for you.”
“Please.” His voice cracks. “I love you. I’ll do better. I’ll set boundaries with Millie, I swear.”
“You’ve said that before. We have had this exact conversation so many times before.”
“This time I mean it.” He takes my hands. “Please, Caitlin. One more chance. I can’t lose you.”
I look down at him, at the dimples that appear even when he’s trying to frown, at the dark eyes that first made me believe in love at first sight. Maybe I’m a fool. Maybe I’m just too tired to pack my bags tonight.
“One more chance,” I whisper. “But I mean it, Adam. One more.”
He pulls me into his arms, mumbling thank you and promises against my hair. I let him hold me, but some part of me is already planning what I’ll take and what I’ll leave behind when this chance inevitably runs out.