11. Chapter 11
Caitlin
I wake to sunlight streaming through blinds that I forgot to close, momentarily disoriented by Adam’s absence and the fact that I’m still in the clothes I was wearing yesterday.
Suddenly the events of last night come crashing in; the cruise, the fight, Adam, Millie.
I stare at the ceiling, feeling a cold, hard anger solidifying in my chest like concrete.
This isn’t the first time we’ve fought about Millie, or his mother, or the way I never quite measure up to the life they all imagined for him. It seems we’ve done nothing but fight since arriving in Iowa. But it’s the first time I’ve felt this level of clarity. I’m done. I’m just… done.
I grab my phone and text Rachel: “Decision made. I’ll be home for Thanksgiving. Maybe sooner. Will call with details later.” Her response is immediate, a string of celebratory emojis followed by “FINALLY.” It makes me smile — the first genuine one in weeks.
I shower and dress and take a moment to decide how I want to approach things with Adam.
I could go out and just inform him it’s over.
I could yell and scream and vent my anger and hurt.
But… I don’t want to. The anger and hurt is there, yes, but mostly, I’m just tired.
I’m tired of fighting for someone I shouldn’t have had to fight for to begin with.
I’m tired of his choosing everyone else over me.
What will Adam do if I tell him our relationship is over?
He’ll probably beg again, make promises he won’t end up keeping.
He might decide to stay home with me over Thanksgiving and try to repair things.
But he won’t have done it because he loves me and won’t stand for my being mistreated.
He’ll have done it because I refuse to be accommodating and understanding any longer.
I can see with painful clarity now that this has been the pattern since we moved back to his hometown.
He makes decisions that hurt me, and he expects me to understand because it’s easier than standing up to his mother and disappointing Millie.
It’s just not something I’m willing to tolerate any longer.
I don’t want his apologies, his grand gestures, his promises. I just want to leave. I just want to go home and find my peace again. And start discovering what a future without Adam Kelley is going to look like.
I apply a light coating of makeup and rehearse my new approach in my head: No more fighting.
No more trying to make Adam see how his actions hurt me.
No more competing with Millie Greene. I’ll agree with everything he says.
Millie is just a friend. Millie is like his little sister.
Millie needs him right now. Yes, yes, yes to all of it.
And while I’m yessing him to death, I’ll be planning my exit.
The smell of bacon and coffee greets me as I enter the kitchen. Adam stands at the stove, flipping pancakes with careful concentration. He’s already showered and dressed for work, his damp hair curling slightly at the nape of his neck. Once upon a time, the sight would have made my heart flutter.
“Morning,” I say, keeping my voice light.
Adam turns, surprise clear in his eyes. He probably expected red eyes and the silent treatment. “Morning. I made breakfast.”
“I see that. Smells nice.” I pour myself coffee and lean against the counter, pulling out my phone. And then I proceed to ignore him.
Adam opens and closes his mouth a few times before realizing his pancakes are in danger of burning. He quickly turns back to the stove and tips the cakes out onto the serving platter and pours a few more.
“Listen, Caitlin, about last night–”
“Don’t worry about it,” I interrupt him
“What?” He seems genuinely at a loss for words.
I look up at him and smile brightly. “Don’t worry about it. I was being silly.”
Adam’s spatula freezes mid-air. “Silly?”
“Totally overreacted. I mean, of course you should go on the cruise with Millie. She needs you right now.”
And then I go back to my phone and ignoring him.
He slides pancakes onto a plate, adding bacon on the side. “Your breakfast is ready.”
“Oh good,” I say with a bright smile, “I’m starving.” I take the plate he offers and sit at the table.
He sits across from me, watching me like I might suddenly sprout a second head. “You were right about some things. I should have talked to you before agreeing to go.”
I cut my pancakes and give him another bright smile. “No, no, I get it now. Millie’s practically family to you. She’s like a little sister, right? And her dad just died. Of course, she needs her big brother figure there for emotional support.”
Adam’s brow furrows deeper with each word. “Caitlin, are you…okay?”
“Yeah?” I tilt my head to the side and give him a curious look. “Why wouldn’t I be? These pancakes are delicious, by the way. You’re getting really good at them.”
“Thanks,” he says slowly. “Look, about Thanksgiving. I’m going to talk to Mom about getting you a ticket too. I know it’s last minute, but I really don’t want to go without you, and if it comes right down to it, you don’t need your job. I make plenty for both of us–”
“Don’t be silly,” I cut in. “It’s a family thing, and Millie needs this. Besides, it’ll give me a chance to catch up on some reading. Maybe deep-clean the apartment. I’ve been meaning to do it.”
Adam sets down his fork. “You’re planning to deep-clean the apartment over Thanksgiving.”
“Sure, why not?” I say brightly, shoving a forkful of pancake into my mouth to avoid elaborating.
“Caitlin…” His voice has that careful tone, like he’s approaching a wild animal. “I know you’re upset. You don’t have to pretend.”
“I’m not pretending anything,” I insist, the false cheerfulness in my voice cranked up another notch. “I’ve just realized that I need to be more understanding about your friendship with Millie. She’s been through so much after all, and you two have all that history. It’s sweet, really.”
Adam’s eyes narrow slightly. “This doesn’t sound like you.”
“Well, maybe I realized I’ve been too selfish.” I stand up and scrape my half-eaten breakfast into the trash. “I should get going. I have some stuff to do in town before work.”
“We’re not done talking about this,” Adam says, rising too.
“Nothing to talk about!” I grab my purse and keys. “We’re good. You go on your cruise, support Millie, be the hero. I’m one hundred percent behind you.”
Before he can respond, I plant a quick kiss on his cheek and practically skip out the door, maintaining the facade until I’m safely in my car. Only then do I let my smile drop, my fingers gripping the steering wheel so tightly my knuckles turn white.
* * *
I drive to Rosie’s on autopilot. I don’t really have anything to do; I just needed to leave before the temptation to break character and put a fork in his eye grew too great.
To distract myself, I map out what I need to do next.
First step: give notice at work. Second step: figure out when I’m actually leaving.
To do that, I suppose I need to find out when Adam is leaving.
Third step: decide what to pack and what to leave behind.
Rosie’s is quiet when I arrive, most of the kitchen staff busy prepping for lunch. My boss, Iris, is in her tiny office off the kitchen, glasses perched on the end of her nose as she reviews invoices.
“Got a minute?” I ask, tapping on her open door.
She looks up, smiling when she sees me. “Morning, sunshine. You’re early. What’s up?”
I close the door behind me and take the seat across from her desk. “I need to give my notice.”
Iris’s smile vanishes. “That bastard at Riverfront finally poached you, didn’t he?
I knew Frank would come sniffing around when he got an idea of what you can do in the kitchen.
” She slaps her hand on the desk. “How much is he offering? If he thinks he can just walk in and take the best cook I’ve ever had–”
“It’s not another restaurant,” I interrupt gently. “I’m moving to Oregon. I have family there.”
That stops her cold. “Oregon? But…” Her eyes drop to my now ringless finger, then back to my face, and she raises a brow. “Is Adam going with you?”
I take a deep breath. “No. Adam is staying here. I’m… I’m going alone. Our engagement is ending. But please don’t mention it to anyone yet; I haven’t exactly told him I’m leaving.”
“Oh, honey.” Iris’s expression softens. “What happened?”
“It’s complicated,” I say, not wanting to get into the whole Millie situation. “Let’s just say I finally realized I’ve been trying to fit into a space that wasn’t shaped for me.”
Iris leans back in her chair, studying me.
“You know,” she starts carefully, “I’ve lived in Mount Pella my whole life.
Sixty-three years now. Had lots of chances to leave, and there are plenty of folks who would have preferred me to take them.
But I’m a stubborn one. And I have to say, all these years living here and I’ve always been of the opinion that Paula Kelley is a complete bitch. And Rhonda Greene is just as bad.”
A startled laugh escapes me because that was not the direction I saw that heading.
Iris chuckles too and then continues, “When I was younger, I used to take my grandmother to church every Sunday. She couldn’t drive anymore, and getting out of the house was hard on her, but she was a lifelong parishioner at First Lutheran, and she still enjoyed getting dressed up and singing some hymns and listening to a sermon.
And I’ve never forgotten how Paula and her cohort treated us.
Granted, I was pretty heavy into the punk scene, but Paula and Rhonda and their ilk looked at us like we were something they’d scraped off the bottom of their shoes.
Because my grandmother was poor and I was different. ”
I look at my boss with her deep purple curls caught up in an untidy knot on top of her head, fire engine red lips and nails, and bright orange sweater, and try to imagine her and neat, polished, always dressed to the nines Paula existing in the same space. I can’t.
“I worried about you, you know. When you first told me who your fiancé was. I thought, ‘Oh, she’s too sweet for that family. They’ll chew her up and spit her out.
’ Not that Adam isn’t a decent enough young man, it’s just…
” she pauses, trying to collect her thoughts.
“Paula’s had that boy’s life mapped out from the moment he exited her womb.
She ruled him with an iron fist, and he went along mostly because he’s always been a good-natured boy.
Well-liked by everyone. People were shocked when he left the state for college, and I thought, ‘Well good for him, he’s gonna break free’.
And for a while it seemed like he had. Just a shame they roped him into coming back. ”
The tears I’ve been holding back all morning threaten to spill over. “She never even gave me a chance,” I whisper. “And he never once stood up to her.”
“You know,” Iris says with a sigh, “there was a guy I was with once, before I met my husband. Handsome, came from one of the better families in town. I thought I loved him and would give up anything for him. I spent three years trying to be what his family wanted. Straightened my hair and stopped dyeing it. Packed away my Dead Kennedy and Black Flag shirts. Took tennis lessons. Started shopping for my clothes at those fancy department stores.” She shakes her head.
“One day I looked in the mirror and didn’t recognize myself. That’s when I knew I had to go.”
I nod, surprised at how closely her experience mirrors mine. “What did he say when you left?”
“That I’d regret it. That I’d never find anyone who loved me like he did.” She smiles, a genuine one that crinkles the corners of her eyes. “He was right about one thing; I never found anyone who loved me like he did. I found someone who loved me better, right up to the last day of his life.”
She reaches across the desk and squeezes my hand. “When are you planning to leave?”
“Couple of weeks. Just before Thanksgiving, I think.” The timeline is suddenly becoming real.
“I’ll be sorry to lose you,” she says. “You’re the best cook I’ve had in this kitchen in years. But I’d rather see you happy back home than miserable here. Take whatever time you need off to arrange things.”
“I can’t ask for that—”
“You’re not asking, I’m offering.” Iris stands up. “And one more piece of advice? When a man shows you who he really is, believe him the first time. Saves a lot of heartache down the road.”
I rise too, moved by her kindness. “Thank you, Iris.”
“Don’t thank me,” she says, waving me off. “Just send me a postcard. And when you open that restaurant of your own someday, remember I believed in you.”
As I walk back through the restaurant and out to the parking lot, I feel a weight lifting off my shoulders. For the first time in months, I’m not waiting, hoping Adam will choose me. I’m choosing myself.