33. Chapter 33
Caitlin
I grip the screwdriver tightly, working the screws out of the hinges of the cabinet door.
Sweat beads at my temples as I focus on the task, far too aware of the man working at my side.
Adam removes the doors of the other set of cabinets, his movements methodical and precise.
We’ve fallen into an easy rhythm in the time we’ve been working on my grandmother’s house.
Ever since that first conversation about Millie, we’ve been careful to keep things light and friendly.
“Last one,” I say as the final screw comes loose and the cabinet door detaches in my hands. I set it carefully against the wall with the others. The kitchen looks strange with all the cabinet doors removed, like a face without eyebrows.
“Good timing,” Adam says, as the last door from his cabinets comes free. He adds it to the stack with mine. “These need to be sanded before we paint them.”
I nod, wiping my hands on my already filthy jeans.
The air feels thick with more than just dust, heavy with all the things we’ve started to say but haven’t finished.
I’ve been turning his words from that first conversation over in my mind, examining them from every angle, but there are things that still bother me.
“Water break?” Adam suggests, his voice carefully neutral.
“Sure.”
He hands me a bottle from the small cooler we brought, and I take a long drink, watching him over the rim.
His hair is ruffled, a streak of dust across one cheek.
He looks different now than he did in Mount Pella, or even in Colorado.
He’s letting his hair grow out and his beard grow in, but it’s not just his physical appearance.
There’s a steadiness to him now that wasn’t there before.
“I want to continue our conversation from the other day,” I say abruptly, my heart thumping against my ribs. “About Millie.”
Apprehension flickers across his face, but he nods. “Okay.”
I take another sip of water, buying myself time to gather my thoughts.
“You told me that you felt responsible for Millie’s happiness.
That it was drilled into you since you were a kid.
” I set my water bottle down on the counter, needing my hands free for this.
“I need to understand what that meant in practice. Because so much of what happened doesn’t make sense to me. ”
Adam leans against the counter, his eyes steady on mine. “Ask me anything. I’ll tell you the truth.”
“That night,” I begin, and my voice catches.
I clear my throat and try again. “That night I came home from my shift at the diner, and Millie was at our apartment. You were cooking dinner for her. You cooked for her and didn’t even think to save any for me.
” The hurt still feels fresh, even now. “I felt like I was interrupting a date. In our home.”
His face falls, regret etching deep lines around his mouth. “I’m so sorry about that night, Caitlin. There’s no excuse for it.”
“I don’t want apologies. I want to understand why it happened.”
He runs a hand through his hair. “Rhonda would call me, sometimes several times a day. She’d be frantic because Millie wouldn’t eat or get out of bed. She’d say things like, ‘I don’t know what to do, Adam, she’s wasting away’ or ‘She’s been in her room for three days.’”
I feel my jaw tighten. “And you’d what? Rush over?”
“Not always. Not at first.” He looks down at his hands. “But if I didn’t respond or try to help, my mother would call next. She’d tell me I was letting Eric down, that he’d be ashamed of me. That Millie needed me.”
“So you’d bring her to our apartment for dinner,” I say flatly. “Our space. Our home.”
“Sometimes. Other times I’d take her out somewhere, or go to her house and cook there.
” He meets my eyes, his expression pained.
“I know it was inappropriate, Caitlin. I know it was far too intimate. If our situations had been reversed, if you’d been doing that with another man, I would have been jealous and hurt and angry. ”
Something bitter rises in my throat. “How often did this happen?”
He hesitates, and I can tell he’s weighing whether to be completely honest.
“Don’t sugarcoat it,” I warn him. “I want the truth.”
“Several times a week,” he admits, his voice quiet. “Sometimes more.”
The words land like a blow. “Several times a week,” I repeat, my voice hollow. “You were certainly taking better care of Millie than you were of me.”
“I know.” He looks miserable, and I feel no sympathy for him.
“Did you ever tell her no? Did you ever tell Rhonda to take her to a doctor? Did you ever suggest therapy?”
“I tried a few times, but they’d dismiss it. Say it wasn’t that serious, that she just needed to see a friendly face.” His shoulders slump. “I should have tried harder. I should have held firm.”
I walk to the window, needing some distance. The first shoots of spring are pushing up through the overgrown mess in the garden outside.
“Do you know what I felt that night, Adam? When I walked into our apartment and found Millie there?” I don’t turn to look at him. “I felt like I didn’t belong. Like I was the guest, and she was the one who belonged with you. I felt like I was intruding in my own home.”
“Caitlin, I—”
“And now I find out it wasn’t just once.
It was several times a week.” I finally face him, anger and hurt bubbling up from some deep well inside me.
“Did you ever stop to think what that might feel like for me? Did you ever consider what message that sent? You were acting like her devoted lover in our home!”
“No,” he says simply. “I didn’t. I was too caught up in trying to meet everyone else’s expectations to see how deeply I was hurting you.” His voice breaks slightly. “I failed you, Caitlin. I know that. And I’m so, so sorry.”
I close my eyes for a moment, feeling tears threaten. “I need some time. To process this.”
“Of course,” he says immediately. “We don’t have to talk about it anymore today.”
“No, I mean…” I open my eyes, forcing myself to look at him directly. “I need some space right now. Let’s just work.”
He nods, accepting this boundary without protest. “Whatever you need.”
We return to the kitchen, working together to remove the countertop from the cabinet.
Several times a week. The words echo in my head as I work.
I’d thought that all the hurt from our time in Iowa had scabbed over, but now I realize it’s still there, raw and bleeding just beneath the surface.
And I don’t know if hearing the truth makes it better or worse.
The sandwich sits heavy in my hand as I stare at the makeshift picnic we’ve laid out on an overturned wooden crate.
Adam sits across from me on a stack of lumber we salvaged from the pantry, the space between us thick with unspoken words.
We’ve been working in silence for nearly two hours.
My shoulders and back ache, but it’s nothing compared to the ache in my chest.
Adam takes a bite of his sandwich, his eyes flicking to mine before dropping back to his food. He’s giving me space, not pushing. Part of me appreciates it. Another part wants to scream.
“I want to talk about the Halloween party,” I say abruptly, setting my barely touched sandwich down.
His hand stills, sandwich halfway to his mouth. He lowers it slowly. “Okay.”
“We spent weeks planning it, remember? I made all that food, decorated the apartment.” My voice is surprisingly steady.
“And then when Millie arrived, you practically fell over yourself getting to her. You spent the entire night at her side, getting her drinks and food, making sure she was having a good time.” The memory still stings, sharp and clear.
“Meanwhile, I was refilling drinks and bringing out food, trying to join conversations, and not one of your friends, or you for that matter, seemed to notice that I was there.”
Adam sets his sandwich down, shame evident in the slump of his shoulders. “I know,” he says quietly. “I can still see your face as you stood there watching everyone. You looked so… alone.”
“Why?” The question comes out more plaintively than I intend. “Why did you do that to me? Why was she always more important?”
He looks up at me, his eyes filled with a regret so genuine it makes my breath catch.
“She’d been texting me all week about how depressed she was.
How she didn’t even want to get out of bed.
How she wasn’t sure she was going to make it to the party because she was just so miserable.
” He rubs his forehead, leaving another smudge of dust. “When she actually showed up, I was so relieved. I thought it meant she was feeling better. And when she seemed to be having a good time, I was determined to keep it that way.”
I shake my head, disbelief warring with a strange, sad understanding. “And it never occurred to you that she might be manipulating you? That this might be a pattern?”
“Not then, no.” Adam’s voice hardens, but I can tell the anger isn’t directed at me.
“Now I can see it so clearly, and I’m furious with myself for falling for it.
Every time I had plans with you, or we were doing something important together, she’d suddenly be in crisis.
And I’d drop everything, leave you behind, because I believed she needed me. ”
“She did need you,” I say, surprising myself with the bitter edge in my voice. “She needed you to abandon me at every turn. She needed you to prioritize her over your fiancée. She needed you to make me feel like I was the intruder in your life, not her. And you made sure she got what she needed.”
“You’re right.” He doesn’t try to defend himself or minimize it. “I did. I let her get away with it. I played right into it, time after time.”
I take a shaky breath. “I want to talk about the cruise next.”
Adam’s expression shifts to something like alarm. “Are you sure? We’ve covered a lot of ground today already. Maybe we should take some time to process before we dive into that.”
“No.” I’m surprised by the firmness in my own voice. “I’m tired of wondering about everything that happened. I’m tired of thinking about it all. I want to get it out in the open. All of it.”
“Caitlin—”
“Every time I think about Thanksgiving, I feel like I can’t breathe.
You would have left me sitting alone in our apartment while you were on a cruise with your family and Millie.
You say you love me, and yet you left me.
” The words tumble out now, unstoppable.
“I have spent months turning it over in my mind, trying to understand why. I uprooted my whole life so that you could be close to your family and take over your family’s business, and you would have left me alone. ”
“I know, and I’m so sorry. But Caitlin, this is a lot,” he says gently. “I just don’t want to overwhelm you. We could take a break, come back to it tomorrow—”
“I don’t want to take a break,” I interrupt, my voice rising slightly. “I want answers. I want to understand how things got so broken between us, because if I don’t, I’ll never be able to move forward, with or without you.”
His eyes widen slightly at this, and I realize it’s the first time I’ve explicitly acknowledged that there might be a future for us. I hadn’t meant to say it, not yet, but it’s true. Part of me is still drawn to him, still loves him despite everything. And that terrifies me.
“I want to know it all, Adam. Every painful detail. Because only then can I decide if what we had is worth salvaging.” I meet his gaze directly. “Can you understand that?”
He holds my eyes for a long moment, then nods slowly. “Yes. I can understand that.”
“Good. Then tell me about the cruise. Tell me why you went. Tell me what you were thinking. Tell me everything.”