8. Chapter 8
Caitlin
Our apartment feels oddly empty now that Adam’s family has gone back to Iowa.
For five days, the space was filled with voices, laughter, and the constant push-pull of family dynamics.
Now it’s just us again, and I replay moments from their visit, searching for clues in facial expressions and offhand comments, trying to figure out if I passed some unspoken test. Adam seems relieved they’re gone and thinks everything went well, but I can’t shake this knot of anxiety in my stomach, this feeling that Paula, in particular, was measuring me against some standard I couldn’t see.
I’m wiping down the counters when Adam comes in from taking out the trash, the final chore in our post-family-visit cleanup.
“I think we survived,” he says, washing his hands at the kitchen sink.
I smile. “They seemed to enjoy Colorado.”
“They did. Dad can’t wait to tell his buddy Eric about all the fly-fishing spots there are here.” Adam dries his hands on a dish towel and leans against the counter, studying me. “You okay? You’ve been quiet since they left.”
“I’m fine,” I say automatically, scrubbing harder at the countertops. “Just tired. It’s a lot, hosting family.”
Adam takes the cloth gently from my hand. “You’ve been wiping the same spot for five minutes. I think it’s clean. What’s really bothering you?”
I sigh, finally looking up at him. His dark eyes are concerned, the dimple in his left cheek appearing as he gives me a questioning half-smile.
“Did your mom like me?” The question bursts out of me, unplanned.
Adam blinks in surprise. “Of course she did. Why would you think otherwise?”
I push away from the stove and pace a small circle in our kitchen. “I don’t know. She was perfectly nice, but… there was something there, Adam. Like she was just going through the motions.”
“That’s just how Mom is,” Adam says, sounding puzzled. “She’s not the warmest person in the world, but she seemed to like you just fine.”
“She barely asked me any questions about myself.” I stop pacing and face him. “And she took over the whole kitchen after that first night. Said she knew better what kind of food your family likes to eat.”
Adam runs a hand through his hair. “Yeah, she considers the kitchen to be kind of her domain. She doesn’t even let Lauren or Hailey help much.”
“It wasn’t just that.” I hesitate, not wanting to sound paranoid.
“When I went shopping with her and your sisters, she kept pointing out things she thought I’d like, but they were all…
I don’t know; they weren’t me at all. I got the feeling she really didn’t like any of the stuff I picked for myself. ”
“Mom has strong opinions about fashion,” Adam says. “She does the same thing to Lauren and Hailey.”
I sink into a kitchen chair, suddenly tired. “Maybe I’m overreacting.”
Adam comes over and sits across from me, taking my hands in his. “Look, I know my mom can be a lot. She has her own way of doing things, her own ideas about what’s proper or right. But she was impressed with you.”
“She was?” This doesn’t match my perception at all.
“Yes.” Adam squeezes my hands. “She told me you were ‘lovely’ and that your cooking was ‘very nice.’”
“She did?” I ask, skepticism creeping into my voice.
“She did.” Adam nods. “And coming from her, that’s high praise.”
I want to believe him, but I can’t shake the memory of catching Paula watching me with an expression I couldn’t quite name, something that looked like disappointment.
“I guess I just wanted her to like me,” I admit. “I know how close your family is.”
“She does like you,” Adam insists. “They all do. Well, except maybe Hailey, but she doesn’t like anyone outside the family at first. She’ll warm up eventually.”
Hailey had been the most overtly cold, eyeing me like I was some curious specimen she couldn’t quite categorize.
She was constantly on her phone, looking up only when she wanted to interject a snarky comment into whatever conversation was happening around her.
And she complained about just about everything.
“I liked your dad,” I say, trying to focus on the positive. “He’s funny.”
Adam grins. “Yeah, Dad’s pretty great. And he was definitely impressed by your cooking.”
I enjoyed Gerald, with his loud laugh and his endless stories about teenage Adam’s misadventures. Unlike Paula, he asked me questions about my life, my family, my travels before settling in Colorado. He seemed genuinely interested in my answers.
“Lauren and Jake were nice too,” I add.
Lauren had been quiet but friendly, and Jake had gone out of his way to make me feel included, often explaining family jokes or references I wouldn’t understand. They felt like potential allies in the Kelley family.
“See? Four out of five isn’t bad,” Adam says, his dimples deepening as he smiles. “And Mom will come around completely once she gets to know you better.”
I nod, though I’m not convinced. There was a reserve in Paula, a distance that never quite went away, even when she was smiling and complimenting my cooking or the way I’d decorated our apartment.
“I just want them to approve of me,” I say quietly. “I want to feel like I belong with you, with your family.”
“You do belong with me,” Adam says firmly, leaning forward to press a kiss to my forehead. “And they’ll all see that, if they don’t already. Mom just takes time to warm sometimes.”
I force a smile. “I’ll keep working on her.”
“You don’t need to work on her,” Adam says. “Just be yourself. That’s who I fell in love with.”
I nod, but in my mind, I’m already planning. Next time I’ll ask more questions about her church activities. I’ll wear more conservative clothes. I’ll find out her favorite flowers and have them delivered for her birthday. Somehow, I’ll get Paula Kelley to approve of me.
We settle on the couch, Adam’s arm around me as we watch a movie, but my mind keeps returning to the visit, turning over moments and conversations, looking for clues.
There’s one thing in particular that’s been nagging at me since the second night of their stay — a conversation I wasn’t meant to hear.
It takes me until the movie credits are rolling to work up the courage to ask about it.
“Adam?” I say, my voice smaller than I intend.
“Hmm?” He looks down at me, drowsy and content.
“Who’s Millie?”
His body tenses slightly against mine. “Where did you hear that name?”
I sit up so I can see his face better. “The other night, when you and your mom were doing dishes. I was coming back from the bathroom and I heard her say something about how she’d always thought you’d end up with Millie.”
Adam’s expression flickers through several emotions too quickly for me to read before settling into something carefully neutral. “Oh. That.”
“Yeah, that.” I keep my voice even. “Who is she?”
Adam shifts, creating a small space between us on the couch. “Millie Greene. She’s the daughter of my parents’ best friends, Eric and Rhonda. We grew up together.”
I wait for more, but he stops there, as if that explains everything.
“So why did your mom think you’d end up with her?” I prompt.
“I don’t know, just one of those funny ideas she gets. Millie’s practically my third sister.”
“Sisters aren’t usually who your mother expects you to ‘end up with,’” I point out.
Adam winces slightly. “Okay, maybe not exactly like a sister. We did date for a bit in high school.”
Something cold settles in my stomach. “You dated.”
“For like a year, my senior year.” Adam rushes to explain. “It was one of those things where everyone expected it. Our families have been friends forever; we’d grown up together. But we quickly figured out we made much better friends than a couple.”
“So you broke up with her?” I ask, trying to keep my tone casual.
“Yeah, right before college. I wanted to go to an out-of-state college, and she wanted to stay in Iowa. It was mutual,” he adds quickly. “We both knew it wasn’t going anywhere romantically.”
“But your mom hoped it would,” I say, connecting the dots.
Adam shrugs, looking uncomfortable. “Mom and Millie’s mom, Rhonda, have been best friends since they were kids. They always had this fantasy about their kids growing up and getting married, joining the families officially.”
“That explains some things,” I murmur, thinking of Paula’s reserved politeness.
“What does it explain?”
I look at him directly. “Why, your mom seems to measure me against some invisible standard. I’m not Millie.”
Adam makes a frustrated noise. “There’s no invisible standard. And you’re right; you’re not Millie, and that’s a good thing. Millie and I didn’t work as a couple. We’re friends, that’s it.”
“Does she know that?” I ask, unable to keep a slight edge from my voice.
“Of course she does. It’s been over a decade.” Adam reaches for my hand. “Caitlin, you have nothing to worry about where Millie is concerned. She’s an old friend, nothing more.”
I nod, wanting to believe him. “So when your mom made that comment…?”
“She was just being nostalgic, I guess.” Adam squeezes my hand. “Mom has a hard time letting go of her plans. She had this whole vision of how all our lives would play out, and she doesn’t adjust easily when reality doesn’t match up.”
“So she’s disappointed,” I say flatly.
“No,” Adam says quickly. “Not in you. Maybe in the general situation. But she’ll come around. Once she sees how happy we are together, once she gets to know you better, she’ll forget all about those old plans.”
I want to believe him. I really do. But there’s a nagging feeling in my gut that I can’t quite shake, a sense that there’s more to the story.
“Will I meet her? Millie?” I ask.
Adam nods. “Eventually, I guess. If we ever visit Mount Pella, she’d probably be at some family function or other. Her family is like an extension of ours.”
“And you’re sure there’s nothing I need to worry about? Nothing still there between you two?” I hate how insecure I sound, but I need to hear him say it.
Adam’s expression softens. He cups my face in his hands, his thumbs brushing gently over my cheeks. “I promise you, there is nothing between me and Millie except friendship. You’re the one I want to spend my life with.”
“I love you,” he says, his dark eyes sincere. “Only you. I’ve never felt about anyone the way I feel about you. You’re my future.”
I lean into him, letting his words wash over me. He presses his lips to mine, soft at first, then deeper, as if trying to convince me with more than words.
When we break apart, I smile, no longer worried about Millie. “I love you too.”