23. Chapter 23
Adam
I drive the streets of Cedar City with no particular destination in mind.
One week in Oregon, and the sum total of my achievements consists of finding an apartment and not calling Caitlin every hour on the hour.
The “grand romantic gesture” of moving across the country now seems less like a bold declaration of love and more like the desperate act of a man who didn’t think beyond step one: Get to Oregon.
What comes next remains a mystery, even to me.
“Brilliant plan, Adam,” I mutter to myself, turning onto what I think is Main Street. “Move two thousand miles with no job, no friends, and no actual strategy for winning back the woman who explicitly told you she wants nothing to do with you.”
If Caitlin hadn’t told me that Cedar City was once a sleepy little farming town, I wouldn’t believe it now.
New boutiques line the streets, their windows displaying artisanal goods at prices that make me wince.
A coffee shop on the corner advertises single-origin beans and pour-over methods.
It certainly is a far cry from Mount Pella.
I slow as I approach a familiar storefront.
Louise’s Table sits on the corner, its old-fashioned sign with the coffee cup sending up painted steam a stark contrast to the sleek, minimalist signage of the businesses surrounding it.
The last time I was here was in November, and Caitlin’s uncle had made it clear I wasn’t welcome.
I’d stood on the sidewalk, watching through the window, desperate for even a glimpse of her.
My hands tighten on the steering wheel as I remember the way he’d pointedly drawn the blinds when he’d spotted me. Message received loud and clear.
But today, something catches my eye that wasn’t there before. A small sign in the window: “Help Wanted. Inquire Within.”
I circle the block, park in the small lot behind the restaurant, and sit in my car, staring at the back entrance. An idea forms, so outlandish that I almost laugh out loud.
What if I applied for the job?
I can’t decide whether it’s the best idea I’ve ever had or the worst.
On the one hand, it would give me a legitimate reason to be near Caitlin.
I could show her through consistent daily actions that I’ve changed, that I’m putting her first, that I can be the man she deserves.
I’d heard they were struggling; my landlord had been full of gossip when I asked about the restaurant while I was signing my lease.
Maybe I could use the skills I’d picked up in Colorado when I’d worked in construction or from running my family’s company to help?
On the other hand, she might see it as manipulative, as another attempt to force my way into her life. It might make her uncomfortable in the one place she’s always felt at home. And that was the last thing I wanted.
And then there’s Peter to consider. Would he even hire me? The man looked like he wanted to punch me when I showed up at his house in November. His opinion of me was obviously in the gutter then, and for good reason. I can’t imagine he’s changed it.
I drum my fingers against the steering wheel, weighing options.
If I want Caitlin back, and God do I, I need to stop overthinking and start acting. I need to prove to her that I’ve changed, that I’ll put her first, always, no matter what.
I know it’s not likely that Peter would hire me.
I know it’s even less likely that Caitlin will ever take me back.
But if there is even the smallest chance I can show her that the man she fell in love with in Colorado is still here, that he’s learned from his mistakes, that he’ll never let her down again?
Then it’s worth trying. I’d do anything to prove to her that if she can just give me her trust one more time, I’ll cherish that trust and I’ll never betray it ever again.
Decision made, I reach for the door handle, then hesitate. What will I say to Peter? I need to be completely honest about my intentions. No manipulation, no games. Just the truth: I love his niece, I screwed up monumentally, and I want a chance to make things right.
I take a deep breath, checking my reflection in the rearview mirror. I look tired, my eyes shadowed from too many nights of fitful sleep. My hair is getting too long, curling at the nape of my neck in a way my mother would hate. Good. Let it grow. Maybe I’ll even grow a beard to go with it.
Before I can talk myself out of it, I step out of the car and walk purposefully to the back door of Louise’s Table.
Through the small window, I can see movement in the kitchen.
Someone is chopping vegetables, and steam is rising from a large pot on the stove.
My stomach tightens with nerves, but I force myself to raise my hand and knock.
This is it. The first real step toward winning Caitlin back, or the first step in learning to let her go for good. Either way, there’s no turning back now.
The kitchen door swings open to reveal Peter Hughes, his sleeves rolled up, a dish towel slung over his shoulder.
He freezes when he sees me, recognition followed quickly by annoyance.
For a moment we just stare at each other, Peter looking like he can’t decide if he should talk to me or just shut the door in my face.
“Kelley,” he says finally, my last name sounding like an accusation on his lips. “Didn’t expect to see you again after November.”
I swallow hard, forcing myself to meet his gaze. “Mr. Hughes. I was hoping I could speak with you for a moment.”
He considers this, studying me with the careful assessment of a man who’s seen his share of trouble. After what feels like an eternity, he nods once, steps back, and holds the door wider.
“Come in, then. But make it quick. Dinner rush starts soon.”
I step into the warm kitchen, immediately enveloped by the scents of simmering soup and freshly baked bread. It smells like Caitlin’s cooking, like the meals she used to make before everything fell apart. The thought makes my chest ache.
“I saw the sign in the window,” I begin, gesturing vaguely toward the front of the restaurant. “You’re hiring.”
Peter’s eyebrows shoot up, surprise momentarily replacing the suspicion on his face. “You’re here about a job?”
“Yes, sir.”
He studies me for a long moment, then lets out a short, disbelieving laugh. “A job. Here. At Louise’s Table.” He shakes his head, turning to stir something in a large pot. “And why would I hire you exactly?”
The question hangs in the air, heavy with all the things he’s not saying. Why would he hire the man who broke his niece’s heart? The man whose family treated her like she was less than nothing?
“I have experience in business management and construction,” I offer, knowing how weak it sounds. “I could help with—”
“Let me stop you right there,” Peter interrupts, setting down his wooden spoon with deliberate care.
He turns to face me fully, arms crossed over his chest. “I’m not hiring someone to manage the place.
We do that just fine on our own. We’re looking for a server.
But even if I were looking for someone with your experience, why in God’s name would I hire you?
After what you and your family did to Caitlin? ”
The directness of his question catches me off guard, though it shouldn’t. I’d prepared myself for hostility, for skepticism, but the quiet intensity of his anger is somehow worse than any shouting could be.
“I don’t suppose there’s much reason from your point of view,” I admit with a shrug.
“You stood by and watched while your mother treated her like dirt,” Peter continues, his voice low but sharp. “You let that girl, Millie, undermine her at every turn. You abandoned her again and again. Do you have any idea what that did to her?”
Each accusation lands like a physical blow. I don’t flinch away from them; I deserve every word.
“Yes,” I say quietly. “I was a coward. I failed her in every way a man can fail the woman he loves.”
Peter snorts. “Love. That’s what you call it?” He turns back to the stove, stirring with more force than necessary. “If that’s love, I’d hate to see indifference.”
“Look,” Peter says, his voice marginally softer, “Caitlin’s finally getting her feet under her. The last thing she needs is you showing up, stirring everything up again.”
“I understand your concern,” I say carefully. “But I didn’t move here on a whim. I’ve made major changes in my life, and I’m committed to showing Caitlin that I can be the man she deserves.”
“And you think working at her family’s restaurant is the way to do that?” Peter’s skepticism is palpable. “Sounds more like stalking to me.”
“It’s not like that,” I protest, though I can see how it might appear that way. “I heard the restaurant was struggling, and I thought I could help. I have skills that could be useful.”
Peter’s eyes narrow. “And who told you we were struggling?”
I don’t want to admit I’ve been poking around, so I just say, “Small town. People talk.”
He grunts, acknowledging the truth of this. “So what, you thought you’d swoop in and save the day? Be the hero, and Caitlin would throw herself right back into your arms?”
“No,” I shake my head vehemently. “I just want to help. In whatever way I can. Even if it means working as a server. Hell, I’ll scrub the toilets and mop the floors if that’s what you need.”
“Pretty big step down from running your own company,” Peter observes, studying me closely. “Why would you give that up?”
I take a deep breath. This is the moment for complete honesty, no matter how it makes me look. “Because I was miserable there. I never wanted to run that company. I let my parents dictate my life for too long, and as a result, I lost the only thing that ever really mattered to me.”
Peter is silent for a long moment, his expression unreadable.
Finally, he sighs, turning down the heat under the pot.
“Let me get this straight. You want to work here, at a struggling restaurant that might not even be in business six months from now, doing menial labor for minimum wage plus tips, all to win back my niece who has made it abundantly clear she wants nothing to do with you?”
Put like that, it sounds ridiculous. But I nod anyway. “Yes, sir. That’s exactly what I want.”
“And what happens when she tells you to go to hell? Again?”
I meet his gaze steadily. “Then at least I’ll know I tried everything. And maybe I’ll have helped her family’s restaurant.”
Peter studies me for what feels like an eternity, his blue eyes seeming to peer straight into my soul. I force myself to hold his gaze, to let him see the sincerity behind my words.
“We need a server,” he says finally. “Ours are dropping like flies, all of them going to work elsewhere. Hours are long, the pay’s not great, and the work is exhausting and thankless.” He pauses, watching my reaction. “Still interested?”
“Yes,” I say without hesitation. “Absolutely.”
He shakes his head slightly, as if he can’t quite believe what he’s hearing.
“You understand this isn’t a yes. I’m not hiring you, not yet.
I need to think about this, and, more importantly, I need to talk to Caitlin.
If she says having you around would make her uncomfortable, that’s the end of it. ”
“I understand,” I nod, trying not to let my disappointment show. It’s more than I expected, honestly. The fact that he’s even considering it feels like a small miracle.
“If, and that’s a big if, I hire you,” Peter continues, “understand that you’ll get no special treatment. You’ll be at the bottom of the totem pole. You screw up, you’re gone. You make Caitlin uncomfortable, you’re gone. You use this as an excuse to pressure her, you’re gone. Are we clear?”
“Crystal clear, sir.”
Peter nods once, then gestures toward the door. “I’ll be in touch. Or not. Don’t hold your breath.”
I know a dismissal when I hear one. I thank him for his time and turn to leave, but his voice stops me at the door.
“Adam.” It’s the first time he’s used my first name. “I have to ask; what exactly are you hoping to accomplish here?”
I turn back to face him; the answer rises easily to my lips because it’s the simple truth. “I’m hoping to earn back her trust. Even if it takes years. Even if she never loves me again. I just want the chance to remind her who I really am when I’m not letting fear and guilt rule my life.”
Peter’s expression softens almost imperceptibly. He doesn’t respond, just nods once more and turns back to his cooking.
I pause at the door, my hand on the knob.
“Actually, sir,” I say, turning back before Peter can fully return to his work, “if you have another minute, there’s more I need to say.”