25. Chapter 25
Caitlin
I arrive at Perks fifteen minutes early and immediately regret it.
Now I have to sit here alone, pretending to be fascinated by my phone while stealing glances at the door every time it opens.
My stomach feels like I’ve swallowed a jar of butterflies.
This was a mistake. I haven’t been on a first date since Adam, and even thinking of his name almost sends me into panic mode.
The coffee shop is one of the newer places in Cedar City, all exposed brick and hanging plants, with small wooden tables polished to a high shine.
It’s exactly the kind of place tourists love.
I order a simple latte and claim a table by the window, watching the Saturday morning crowd stroll by outside.
When Daniel walks in, I nearly spill my coffee.
He’s even more attractive than I remembered from yoga class, with his auburn hair slightly tousled and an easy, confident stride.
He spots me immediately and smiles, and my heart does a weird little skip that has nothing to do with Adam and everything to do with basic female biology.
“Hi,” he says, sliding into the seat across from me. “Have you been waiting long?”
“No! Well, yes, but that’s my fault because I’m pathologically early to everything, which is this weird anxiety thing I have and—” I cut myself off, horrified. Ten seconds in and I’m already babbling. “Sorry. Hi. I haven’t been waiting long.”
His smile widens, creating small crinkles at the corners of his eyes. “I’ll grab a coffee. Can I get you anything else?”
I shake my head, clutching my cup like it might run away.
While he’s at the counter, I take several deep breaths, trying to remember all those calming techniques Rachel’s always going on about.
Inhale for four, hold for seven, exhale for eight.
Or is it inhale for seven, hold for four? Whatever it is, it’s not working.
Daniel returns with coffee and what looks like a chocolate croissant. “Want half?” he offers, breaking it down the middle.
“Yes,” I admit, staring at the flaky pastry like it holds all the answers to life’s secrets. My fingers brush his in the exchange, and a small spark of attraction flickers in my chest, followed immediately by guilt. And that’s when I know I can’t do this.
“I need to tell you something,” I blurt out before I can lose my nerve.
“You seem really great, actually I’m sure you’re amazing and wonderful and I’ll probably regret this, but this is a huge mistake because I’m really not in a place to start a new relationship right now and it’s totally not your fault it’s just that my ex showed up in town last week and apparently he’s moved here from Iowa which is where we lived before I left him and now everything is confusing and I don’t know what I feel about him being here and it wouldn’t be fair to you to start something when I’m so confused and—”
I pause only because I’ve run out of oxygen. Daniel’s eyebrows have climbed steadily higher throughout my monologue, but rather than looking offended or uncomfortable, his lips are twitching with what appears to be barely suppressed laughter.
“Do you always talk that fast when you’re nervous?” he asks, taking a casual sip of his coffee.
I feel heat rush to my face. “Only when I’m humiliating myself, which seems to happen often.”
Now he does laugh, a warm sound that somehow makes me feel less mortified. “Caitlin, it’s okay. Breathe.”
I obey, taking a deep gulp of air.
“First of all,” he continues, “thank you for being honest. That’s refreshing. Second, I’m totally fine with just being friends if that’s all you’re up for right now.”
“You are?” The relief that floods through me is embarrassingly strong.
“Of course. I asked you out because I think you’re interesting, and I’d like to get to know you better. That can happen as friends too.” He shrugs, breaking off a piece of his half of the croissant. “No pressure, no expectations.”
I study his face, looking for signs of disappointment or insincerity, but find none. “Most guys would be heading for the door right now,” I point out.
“I’m not most guys,” he says with a wink that’s so deliberately cheesy I can’t help but laugh. “Besides, my mom raised me better than that. She’d haunt me from the grave if I left a nice girl sitting alone at a coffee shop just because she didn’t want to date me.”
The tension drains from my shoulders. “Your mom sounds lovely.”
“She was.” His smile turns a bit wistful. “She died when I was sixteen. Cancer.”
“I’m sorry,” I say, genuinely meaning it. “I lost my grandmother when I was eighteen. She raised me after my mom took off.”
Daniel nods, understanding in his eyes. “Looks like we’ve both got some family baggage.”
“Mine could fill a cargo ship,” I admit, taking a bite of the croissant. It’s delicious—buttery and rich with just the right amount of chocolate.
From there, the conversation flows more naturally.
We talk about Cedar City, how it’s changed, and what we miss about the old days.
He tells me about his work as a veterinarian, how he returned to Cedar City after college to work at the same clinic his mother had worked at.
I tell him about Louise’s Table, about working alongside Uncle Peter, about our struggles to keep the doors open.
“That place is an institution,” Daniel says, shaking his head. “I can’t believe it’s struggling.”
“Turns out institutions don’t always keep up with the times,” I sigh. “We’re trying, but it’s hard to compete.”
“Maybe you don’t need to compete,” he suggests. “Maybe you just need to remind people why they loved it in the first place.”
It’s a simple observation, but it sticks with me, nudging at something I’ve been considering for a while now.
We chat for nearly an hour, and I’m surprised by how easy it is, how nice it feels to talk to someone without all the complications and history that come with Adam. Still, thoughts of Adam keep intruding. What would he think of Daniel? Is he really in Cedar City to stay? What does he want from me?
I push these thoughts aside, focusing instead on Daniel as he talks about some of the animals brought into his clinic. His self-deprecating humor and the way he uses his hands when he talks reminds me a little of my cousin Rachel.
When we finally finish our coffees, Daniel walks me to my car. “This was nice,” he says, hands in his pockets. “We should do it again sometime. As friends,” he adds with a smile.
“I’d like that,” I say, surprised to find I mean it. “Thanks for being so understanding about… everything.”
“No problem.” He reaches out and gives my shoulder a light, friendly squeeze. “Just remember, you don’t owe your ex anything, Caitlin. Whatever you decide about him being here, make sure it’s what you want, not what you think you should want.”
I nod, touched by his insight. As I drive away, I feel lighter somehow, less tangled up inside. I still don’t know what to do about Adam, but at least I’ve made a new friend. In Cedar City’s rapidly changing landscape, that feels like something worth holding onto.
* * *
Sundays have meant family dinner at Grandma’s house since before I was born.
And after she died, my aunt and uncle kept up the tradition at their house.
Even during my wandering years, I’d call home on Sundays and feel a pang of homesickness at the thought of what I was missing: Uncle Peter’s roast chicken, Aunt Charlene’s lemon potatoes, and the comfortable rhythm of family conversation.
Tonight, I’m savoring a forkful of those perfect potatoes when Uncle Peter clears his throat in that deliberate way that always means he has something important to say.
The table goes quiet, and we all look up.
“Had a visitor at the restaurant yesterday.” He takes a sip of his water, his eyes not quite meeting mine.
We wait a moment for him to elaborate, and when he doesn’t, Rachel snorts. “Okay. Gonna tell us who it was, Dad?”
“Adam. He wants a job.”
The potatoes turn to paste in my mouth. I reach for my water glass, nearly knocking it over in my haste. “He what?”
“Adam came in and applied for a job,” Uncle Peter repeats. “As a server.”
“A server?” My voice rises in disbelief. “Adam Kelley wants to be a server at Louise’s Table? Are you sure it was my ex and not some other Adam?”
“The very same,” Uncle Peter confirms, finally meeting my gaze. “Showed up at the back door asking about the help-wanted sign.”
I look from him to Aunt Charlene, who’s watching me with soft concern, to Rachel, whose face has flushed with indignation.
“Tell me you told him to go to hell,” Rachel says to Uncle Peter, stabbing a carrot with unnecessary force.
“I did not,” he replies calmly. “We had a conversation.”
“About what?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.
Uncle Peter sets his napkin beside his plate, choosing his words carefully. “About a lot of things. Mostly about you, about how he treated you, about how much he regrets it.”
“And you believed him?” Rachel interjects.
“I did,” Uncle Peter says simply. “There are things he told me that I think he should tell you himself, Caitlin. But yes, I believe he’s genuinely remorseful about how things ended between you two.”
I stare at my plate, trying to process this. Adam applying for a job at my family’s restaurant feels like an invasion, a deliberate attempt to force his way back into my life. But Uncle Peter isn’t easily fooled, and he rarely gives second chances without good reason.
“Did he mention why he left Iowa? And for how long?” Aunt Charlene asks, passing the bowl of potatoes towards him.
“He said he sold his part of his family’s business to his sister and intends to stay out here for good.” Uncle Peter says, spooning more potatoes onto his plate.
“He told you that?” I look up sharply.
Uncle Peter nods. “He did.”
“So he’s just going to what? Stalk you now?” Rachel’s voice drips with skepticism. “Shows up in town, tries to worm his way into your workplace, hoping you’ll fall for him again?” She turns to me. “You know I’ve always got a shovel and an alibi ready if you need it.”
“Rachel!” Aunt Charlene scolds, but I catch the small twitch of her lips.
“What?” Rachel defends. “I’m just saying, there are a lot of empty fields between here and Portland. Nobody would ever find him.”
Despite everything, I laugh. It comes out shaky and a bit hysterical, but it breaks some of the tension coiling in my chest.
“I don’t think murder is the answer here, honey,” Aunt Charlene says, patting my hand. “But I do think it’s significant that Adam uprooted his entire life. That’s not something people do lightly.”
“Or it’s the behavior of a manipulative stalker,” Rachel mutters.
“Or,” Uncle Peter interjects firmly, “it’s the action of a man who’s realized he made a terrible mistake and is trying to make amends.” He turns to me. “The question is, what do you want to do about it, Caitlin?”
I push a potato around my plate, trying to sort through the tangle of emotions in my chest. “I don’t know,” I admit. “Part of me is still so angry at him. For Millie, for Iowa, for everything. But another part…”
“Still loves him?” Aunt Charlene suggests gently.
“Maybe,” I whisper. “I don’t know. It’s all so confusing.”
“You don’t need to make any decisions right now,” Uncle Peter says. “About forgiving him or not forgiving him or taking him back.”
“I’d hope those would be two very different decisions,” Rachel interjects.
Uncle Peter gives her a pointed look before continuing. “You can forgive him and wish him well in his future without taking him back, Caitlin. Or you can decide to forgive him and take him back if he proves himself to you. Both are valid options, and it’s entirely your choice.”
The last part seems directed as much at Rachel as at me. My cousin rolls her eyes but keeps any further comments to herself.
“What about the job?” I ask. “Did you tell him yes?”
“I told him I’d think about it and talk to you,” Uncle Peter replies. “Normally, I wouldn’t have even considered it, but…” He hesitates.
“But we’re desperate,” I finish for him.
“We lost too many servers,” he confirms. “I suspect Jenny’s planning to quit too. And Adam’s the only applicant we’ve had.”
“The universe has a sick sense of humor,” I mutter.
“We can figure something else out,” Uncle Peter assures me. “If having him around would make you uncomfortable—”
“Would it?” Aunt Charlene interrupts, looking at me intently. “Make you uncomfortable, I mean?”
I consider this. Would seeing Adam every day be painful? Yes. Would it be unbearable? I’m not sure. Part of me is curious about whether he’s really changed and why he’s doing all this.
“Maybe it’s a good thing,” Aunt Charlene suggests when I don’t answer immediately. “Having him around means you can see if he’s really changed without having to date him again.”
“Or it’s a perfect opportunity to make him suffer,” Rachel adds, her expression brightening. “Give him the worst tables. Like Mr Sullivan. Or Mrs. Bryant. Make him clean the bathroom after Mr Mills has been in there. You could be his boss.”
“That’s not helpful, Rachel,” Uncle Peter sighs, but I can see the hint of amusement in his eyes.
“I don’t know,” I say slowly. “It might be a little satisfying.”
The table falls silent, all eyes on me again as they wait for my decision. Trepidation presses on my chest, but underneath, there’s something else, a flicker of curiosity, maybe even hope.
“Let him work at the restaurant,” I say finally. “We need the help, and honestly, I want to see if he means what he says. If he wants my forgiveness, he can work for it.”
“And if he wants more than forgiveness?” Rachel asks, arching an eyebrow.
I meet her gaze steadily. “Then he’ll have to work a whole lot harder, for a whole lot longer.” I turn to Uncle Peter. “But I’m not making any promises. About anything.”
Uncle Peter nods, satisfaction and something like pride in his eyes. “Fair enough. I’ll call him tomorrow.”
Aunt Charlene refills my water glass, her fingers briefly squeezing my shoulder as she does. “Whatever happens, we’re here for you, sweetheart.”
“I know,” I say, my throat tight with sudden emotion.
Adam wants forgiveness. Maybe even a second chance. And now he’ll have the opportunity to show me, not just tell me, whether he deserves either. The ball is in his court, but I’m the one setting the rules of the game. For once, I have all the power.
It feels good. Terrifying, but good.