10. Chapter 10
Caitlin
I stir the sauce one last time, inhaling the aroma of garlic and basil that fills our kitchen.
My homemade marinara, Adam’s favorite, simmers on the stove while I check the garlic bread in the oven.
It’s turning a perfect golden brown, the edges crisping just right.
The table’s already set, with wine glasses waiting to be filled.
Maybe it’s a little over the top for a Wednesday night, but Adam and I have barely spent time together this week, and I’m excited at the thought of having an evening with him.
Adam opens the door and steps inside. His face has that pinched look, the one he gets when he’s carrying something heavy inside him. It’s the same expression he wore when he told me his father had had a heart attack, the one that convinced us to move to this town where I still don’t feel at home.
“Smells amazing,” he says, but his smile doesn’t reach his eyes. He walks over and kisses my cheek, but I can tell that his mind is elsewhere.
“Everything okay?” I ask.
“Yeah, just… a long day.” He shrugs off his jacket and hangs it over the back of a chair instead of in the closet where it belongs. Something that looks like a brochure falls out of the pocket, but he quickly scoops it up and shoves it back in. “Let me go wash up.”
While he’s gone, I slide the pasta into the boiling water and try to shake off the unease crawling up my spine. When he returns, he’s changed into a clean t-shirt and jeans, and his hair is still damp from his shower.
“Want wine?” I ask, already reaching for the bottle.
“God, yes.”
I pour us each a glass, and we settle at the table. I serve the pasta, and he takes a bite and makes an appreciative sound. But then he falls silent, pushing the noodles around his plate more than eating them.
“So,” I venture, “how was your mom?”
He freezes mid-twirl of his fork. “How did you—”
“You texted me, remember?” I keep my tone light, but something in his reaction makes my stomach clench.
“Right. Sorry.” He takes a gulp of wine. “It was fine. Just mom being mom.”
“Which means what, exactly?” I can’t help the edge in my voice. Paula Kelley has made it abundantly clear since the day we met that I’m not what she pictured for her son.
Adam sets down his fork and looks at me directly for the first time since he’s been home. “She wanted to talk about Thanksgiving.”
“Thanksgiving?” I repeat. “Okayyyy. What about it?” I can’t imagine what Paula had to say about Thanksgiving that would have Adam looking like his world is about to end.
I wait, the pasta cooling on my plate, my appetite evaporating while Adam takes another fortifying drink of wine, and I know whatever comes next is going to hurt.
“Mom’s organized a cruise,” he finally says. “For Thanksgiving weekend. Five days, four nights. Leaving from Miami.”
“A cruise,” I echo. “That’s… unexpected. Your mom doesn’t strike me as the cruise type.”
“She’s not. It’s…” He pauses, and I can see him choosing his words carefully. “It’s for Millie and Rhonda, really. The first Thanksgiving without Eric. It was his favorite holiday, and he really went all out, and well…Mom thought it might be easier for them to be somewhere completely different.”
“And you’re going,” I say. It’s not a question.
He nods, his dark eyes miserable. “I told Mom I’d talk to you about it. See if there’s any way you could come too,” his voice is both hopeful and pleading.
“How could your mother possibly imagine I’d get a week off work, at Thanksgiving, with such little notice? And why bother talking to me about it? Because it sounds like your mind’s already made up.”
“It’s not like that,” he protests, but it’s weak, and we both know it.
“Your mom didn’t care if I could get time off work, did she? She doesn’t want me to come, does she?” I ask, though I already know the answers.
His silence is confirmation enough.
“You realize this is our first Thanksgiving in Mount Pella, don’t you?” The words taste bitter in my mouth. “And I have absolutely no family here? I have no one here except you?”
“I know, and I hate that. But Millie—”
“No.” I slam my palm on the table, making the wine glasses jump. “Don’t you dare ‘but Millie’ me. Don’t you dare make that woman’s grief more important than our relationship. Than me.”
Adam’s face flushes. “That’s not fair. Her dad just died. She’s having a really hard time.”
“And I’m sorry for her, I truly am. But this isn’t about Eric dying. This is about your mother trying to push me out and push her in, and you letting it happen. Again.”
“That’s not what’s happening,” he insists, but his eyes drop to his plate.
“Isn’t it? Because from where I’m sitting, it looks exactly like what’s been happening since we moved here.
Every time we visit your parents, your mom finds some way to bring up Millie.
How she’s doing, what she’s accomplished, what good friends you were before you left for college.
How everyone thought you’d end up together.
And then there’s the constant parade of old photos she ‘happens’ to pull out.
Prom. Homecoming. The Greene family Christmas card where you’re standing right next to Millie like you’re already part of the family.
And now she’s taking you on a cruise for a holiday that’s supposed to be about family, and I’m not invited.
” My voice cracks on the last word, betraying the hurt I’m trying to mask with anger.
“You could try to get the time off,” Adam suggests, but it’s half-hearted. We both know my job at Rosie’s doesn’t come with generous vacation days, especially not as the newest hire.
“That’s not the point, and you know it.” I push my plate away, appetite completely gone. “The point is that your mother planned this whole thing in a way that deliberately excludes me. And you are going to go along with it.”
Adam doesn’t seem to have anything to say about that.
My shoulders slump as I reach for my wineglass. “I don’t know how this is going to work, Adam. Your mother is always going to resent me for not being Millie, and you, it seems, are always going to choose Millie over me.”
“Mom will get over it eventually,” he says with a sigh. “It’s just that our families have always been close. And Mom and Rhonda had these big dreams that me and Millie would end up together.”
“I know. You’ve told me. Everyone has told me. Adam Kelley and Millie Greene, this perfect little couple with their perfect little future all mapped out.” I drain the wine in my glass in one gulp. “And then I came along and ruined the plan.”
“You ruined nothing. I love you.” He reaches across the table for my hand, but I move it away.
“Adam,” I take a deep breath and force the words out, though I’m not sure I want the answer. “Do you actually love me? Sometimes I think you love the idea of breaking free from your family’s expectations more than you actually love me.”
He jerks back as if I’ve hit him. “Of course I love you! This has nothing to do with how I feel about you.”
“Doesn’t it? What is it about then? In what world is leaving your fiancée alone on Thanksgiving so you can go on a vacation with another woman the actions of a man who loves said fiancée? What version of reality are you living in, Adam?”
“Caitlin, please,” he scrubs his hands over his face and runs them through his hair. “Please try to understand. I know this sucks. I know it. But it’s one holiday. We are going to have so many more in the future–”
“Like hell we will,” I mutter under my breath as I stand up with a suddenness that knocks my chair back. I grab my plate off the table and with angry movements scrape my untouched food into the trash.
Adam’s head jerks up. “What?”
I don’t answer him. Instead, I drop my plate in the sink and turn towards the bedroom.
He grabs my arm to stop me. “Caitlin, please. Don’t walk away. What did you say?”
I take a deep breath and turn towards him.
But instead of answering his question, I ask my own.
“Do you want to know what I’m tired of, Adam?
I’m tired of being an afterthought in your life.
I’m tired of competing with a ghost relationship that everyone thinks should have been forever. I’m tired of not being enough.”
“Caitlin, please.” Adam reaches for me, but I move back.
“You say you love me? Then look me in the eye and tell me you’re choosing me. Tell me you’re staying home for Thanksgiving.”
The silence stretches between us, taut and terrible.
“I can’t do that,” he finally says. “It’s not about choosing anyone. It’s about supporting a friend who’s grieving.”
The tears I’ve been fighting spill over, hot tracks down my cheeks. I brush them away angrily.
Adam looks at me helplessly.
“You know, Adam, ever since we got here, your family has acted like Millie’s the one who should be wearing this ring.
” I hold my left hand up, the diamond catching in the candlelight.
“Maybe we should just give them what they want.” And with that, I take the ring from my hand and drop it on the table where it sits glinting beside his plate.
“Caitlin, we don’t need to do this; it doesn’t need to go this far.” Adam picks up the ring and moves towards me, but I step back and stop him with an upheld hand.
“I’m going to bed. You are no longer welcome in my bedroom. I do not care where you sleep. Sleep on the couch, go sleep at your mom’s, go sleep in hell for all I care. Just leave me alone.”
I leave him standing there, mouth open, and retreat into the bedroom, closing and locking the door behind me.
* * *
I’m not sure how much time has passed when I pull myself to a sitting position on the bed. My eyes are swollen, my throat raw. The tears have slowed to a trickle, but the hollow feeling in my chest remains.
Before I can talk myself out of it, I grab my phone and dial Rachel’s number.
“Hello, stranger,” Rachel’s voice is a balm, even from thousands of miles away. “Isn’t it past your bedtime in the land of corn?”
“Hi.” My voice cracks, and there’s an immediate shift in her tone.
“What’s wrong? Are you okay?”
“Not really.” I pull my knees to my chest, curling into myself. “Adam and I had a fight. A bad one.”
“What happened?” The background noise on her end fades, like she’s moved to a quieter spot.
I tell her everything — the cruise, Millie, Adam’s mother, the ultimatum. The words pour out of me in a torrent, punctuated by fresh tears.
“His mother is a piece of work,” Rachel says when I finally pause for breath. “And he just went along with it? Without even putting up a fight?”
“He says it’s not about choosing sides. That it’s about supporting Millie through her grief.”
“That’s bullshit, and he knows it.” Rachel’s loyalty is fierce and immediate. “He’s choosing the path of least resistance, like he always does. And you’re the one who gets hurt.”
“What if I’m making a mistake? What if I’m walking away from the love of my life because I refuse to be understanding enough?” I ask, giving voice to the fears that have been plaguing me since I left Adam standing in the kitchen.
“Stop that.” Rachel’s voice is firm. “You’re allowed to put your foot down when your fiancé picks his ex-girlfriend over you for a major holiday. That’s not unreasonable, Caitlin.”
“I don’t know what to do, Rachel. I feel like I’m always going to come second with him — to his family, to Millie, to this whole life he had before me. But I hate the thought of walking away. I love him. I made a commitment to him.”
Rachel is quiet for a moment, and then she sighs. “Caitlin…it might be time to rethink that commitment. Can you honestly say you would have said yes to Adam’s proposal if you’d known that your life together would look like this?”
Her words hang in the air, giving voice to thoughts I’ve been too afraid to acknowledge.
“Caitlin,” she continues when I don’t respond. “You know you can always come home. To us. I know Grandma’s gone, but you still have a home and a family here that loves you. You don’t have to put up with this.”
“I can’t just leave,” I say, but even as I say it, I’m not sure why not.
“Why can’t you? What’s keeping you there? A job you could get anywhere? A man who won’t prioritize you? In-laws who treat you like an inconvenience?”
Put like that, the answer seems obvious.
The thought of home, of family who love me unconditionally, brings a fresh wave of tears. “I miss it,” I admit. “I miss you.”
“I miss you too,” she says. “And I’m serious, come home. You can stay with me. It’ll be fun, like before you left.”
“I’m too tired to decide tonight. Let me think about what I want to do, and I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“Well, while you’re thinking, I’m buying you a plane ticket.
Just in case.” I can hear the smile in her voice.
“For the day before Thanksgiving. Adam can go float around the Caribbean with his pseudo-wife and his obnoxious family, and you can come home. Mom’ll jump for joy when I tell her you’re going to be here for turkey day. ”
I laugh despite myself. “You’re terrible.”
“I’m practical. And I love you. And I hate seeing you hurt like this.”
“I love you, too.” I wipe away the last of my tears. “I’ll let you know.”
“You do that. And Caitlin? You deserve someone who chooses you first. Every time. Don’t settle for less.”
After we hang up, I lie back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. The house is quiet; Adam must have gone to bed too. Or maybe he left. I’m too tired to care.
For the first time since he sat at my table in a diner in Colorado, I’m considering a future that doesn’t include Adam Kelley. The thought breaks my heart, and I almost start crying again from the pain of it. But it also feels like taking a deep breath after being underwater too long.
By Thanksgiving, I could have escaped from this nightmare. I could be back home with people who truly love and cherish me.
The thought is both terrifying and exhilarating. It feels right. Like waking up from a dream and remembering who I really am.