42. Chapter 42
Adam
I’ve been sitting by my dad’s hospital bed all day, mostly just watching him sleep.
He has had a few periods of awakeness, during which we’ve been able to talk.
His face looks less gray today, some color returning to his cheeks.
I watch the gentle rise and fall of his chest, each breath a small victory.
The doctors say he’s improving, that the surgery was successful, but still, seeing him so diminished has shaken me to my core. I reach out and place my hand over his.
There’s so much I want to say to him, so many conversations we never had.
I’ve been so angry with him for his passivity, for standing by while my mother shaped our family into her vision, regardless of what it cost the rest of us.
But now, faced with the possibility of losing him, that anger feels hollow.
His eyelids flutter, then open. Recognition dawns in his gaze as it settles on me.
“Adam,” he says, his voice scratchy and weak. “Still here.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” I tell him, squeezing his hand gently.
He shifts slightly, wincing at the movement. “It was good… to see Caitlin earlier.” His words come slowly, each one requiring effort. “She looks well.”
“She is.” I can’t help the small smile that forms at the mention of her name. “She’s amazing, actually.”
Dad’s lips curve into a smile of his own. “You two… working things out?”
I nod, surprised by his perceptiveness. “Trying to. I thought I’d lost her forever, you know. After everything that happened, after all the ways I hurt her…” I trail off, the familiar shame rising in my throat. “But by some miracle, she’s giving me another chance.”
“Good.” Dad’s eyes close briefly, then reopen with what seems like tremendous effort. “She deserved better… than how we treated her. All of us.”
“Yes, she did,” I agree quietly.
“And so did you, son.” The words hang between us, unexpected and weighty. “You deserved better too.”
I stare at him, not sure what to say.
He takes a labored breath. “You deserved… a father who was present. Who stood up for you.” His hand tightens around mine with surprising strength. “Paula should have loved you… for who you were. Not who she wanted you to be.”
Something shifts in my chest, a tightness I’ve carried for so long I barely notice it anymore. “Dad—”
“No, let me finish.” He struggles to sit up slightly, and I adjust his pillow to help him. “I was wrong, Adam. So wrong. I let Paula… manipulate you. Control you. I knew what she was doing with Millie, with all of it.” Tears gather in the corners of his eyes. “And I did nothing.”
The monitor beside the bed beeps a little faster, and I worry this conversation is too much for him. “Dad, you don’t have to—”
“I do,” he insists. “I do have to say it. I’ve been… thinking about this for months. Since before…” He gestures vaguely at the hospital room, at his current condition. “I’m sorry, Adam. So sorry for not stopping Paula, for not standing up for you.”
“Why?” I ask, the question escaping before I can stop it. “Why didn’t you ever say anything?”
Dad closes his eyes, shame evident in the slump of his shoulders.
“Cowardice,” he admits. “It was easier to… let her have her way. To not rock the boat. My entire life…I’ve been not saying anything.
Never taking a stand.” His eyes open again, meeting mine directly.
“But that’s no excuse. I failed you as a father. And I’m sorry.”
The apology is simple, but profound. I think of Caitlin offering me forgiveness in our hotel room last night, of the weight that lifted from my shoulders with her words. I understand now what a gift forgiveness can be; to both the receiver and the giver.
“I forgive you,” I tell him, my voice rough with emotion. “I forgive you, Dad.”
Relief washes over his face, smoothing the lines of pain and worry. “I don’t deserve it,” he says.
I smile sadly, recognizing my own words from last night. “Maybe not. But you have it anyway.”
We sit in silence for a moment, the beeping of the monitor the only sound in the room. Then Dad shifts again, his gaze earnest. “Adam, I know I don’t have the right to ask for anything. But… do you think we could try?” He swallows hard. “To have a real relationship? To start over?”
The question touches something raw inside me, a longing I’ve carried since childhood for a father who sees me, who knows me, who chooses me. “I’d like that,” I tell him honestly. “I’d like that a lot.”
He smiles, relief clear in every line of his face. “Good. That’s good.”
We’re interrupted by a soft knock at the door. Lauren pokes her head in, her expression alarmed. “Sorry to interrupt,” she says, stepping into the room. She glances at Dad, then back to me. “Adam, there’s a situation out in the waiting room.”
I straighten instantly alert. “What kind of situation?”
Lauren shifts uncomfortably. “Caitlin just came back from the cafeteria. Millie was in the waiting room when she walked in. She saw Caitlin and, well…” She winces. “She’s not taking it well. At all.”
I’m already on my feet and moving to the door before she’s finished talking.
“I’ll gotta go, Dad.” I call over my shoulder. “We’ll come back this evening when everything’s calmed down.”
“I know you will,” Dad says, and the simple faith in his voice follows me as I hurry down the corridor, heart pounding with fear for what Caitlin might be facing.
* * *
I hear Millie before I see her, her voice carrying down the hallway like a siren. My pace quickens, heart hammering against my ribs as I round the corner into the waiting room.
Millie stands in the center of the room, her face flushed an angry red, arms gesticulating wildly as she screams. Caitlin stands in front of her.
She doesn’t seem upset at all. In fact, she’s remarkably calm, almost bemused.
Her head tilts slightly to one side, and one eyebrow is raised as she watches the spectacle unfold before her.
“You don’t belong here!” Millie shrieks, jabbing a finger in Caitlin’s direction. “This is for family! You’re not family! You never were!”
Caitlin takes a step back when Millie gestures towards her, but otherwise, she doesn’t flinch, doesn’t rise to the bait.
She just stands calmly, hands folded in front of her, the picture of composure.
There’s no anger on her face, no hurt, just a sort of detached curiosity, like she’s observing an exotic but ultimately harmless creature through glass at a zoo.
Around them, a small crowd has gathered.
Rhonda hovers behind her daughter, her face a mask of mortification as she tugs ineffectually at Millie’s sleeve.
Several nurses stand nearby, whispering and exchanging alarmed glances, while a burly security guard steps forward, his hand raised in a placating gesture.
“Ma’am, I need you to lower your voice,” he says firmly. “This is a hospital. You need to calm down, or you need to leave.”
Millie whirls on him. “Don’t tell me to be quiet! She’s the one who needs to leave! She ruined everything!”
“Ma’am, if you can’t calm down, I will remove you from the building,” the guard warns, his patience visibly thinning. “This is your final warning.”
Rhonda steps forward, tugging at her daughter’s sleeve again. “Millie, honey, please. You’re making a scene. Let’s just go get some coffee and—”
“No!” Millie shakes off her mother’s hand. “I’m not going anywhere until she leaves! She doesn’t deserve to be here! She stole everything from me!”
I cross the room, each step deliberate. Millie is so caught up in her rant that she doesn’t notice me approaching until I’m standing beside Caitlin. My arm slides around her waist, anchoring her to my side where she belongs.
The room goes suddenly quiet. Millie’s mouth hangs open mid-sentence, her eyes wide with shock as they land on me.
“Adam?” Her voice shifts instantly, turning sweet and uncertain. “Adam, you came back.” She moves toward me, arms outstretched for a hug, tears already gathering in her eyes.
I raise my free hand, palm out, stopping her in her tracks. “Don’t touch me, Millie.”
She freezes, confusion replacing the anger on her face. “But… but Adam, I—”
“No.” The word comes out hard, final. “You don’t touch me. You leave me alone, and you leave the woman I love alone.”
Millie’s gaze darts between Caitlin and me, her expression crumpling. “You can’t love her,” she insists, though her voice has lost its edge. “It’s me you were suppos—”
“That would never happen,” I cut in. “I’ve loved Caitlin from the first moment I saw her.”
“But I need you,” Millie whispers, a tear sliding down her cheek. “I’ve always needed you.”
I feel Caitlin tense slightly against my side, but she remains silent, letting me handle this. I appreciate her trust; her understanding that this is my battle to fight.
“Listen to me carefully, Millie,” I say, my voice low but clear. “I want you to leave Caitlin alone. Leave me alone. I never want to see you again.”
Millie’s face contorts, fresh tears spilling over. “You don’t mean that,” she says, voice breaking. “You can’t mean that. She’s turned you against me. She’s ruined everything!”
“Caitlin ruined nothing,” I tell her firmly. “There was nothing to ruin. I was never yours, Millie. I never wanted to be yours.”
“That’s not true!” she cries, desperation coloring her voice. “We were meant to be together! Everyone knows it! Your mother, my mother—”
“Our mothers were wrong,” I say simply. “They’ve always been wrong. Caitlin is the best thing that’s ever happened to me. The only thing I’ve ever been sure of.”
The words hang in the air between us, a truth I’ve known for so long but never stated so plainly in front of Millie. Her face crumples completely, a wounded sound escaping her as Rhonda rushes forward to wrap an arm around her shoulders.
“Come on, sweetheart,” Rhonda murmurs, shooting me a reproachful look. “Let’s go get some air.”
I turn away from them, my focus entirely on Caitlin now. Her eyes meet mine, warm with understanding and something that might be pride. “Ready to go?” I ask softly.
She nods, and we move toward the exit together, my arm still around her waist. As we pass the nurses’ station, Caitlin glances over her shoulder at Millie, who stands frozen in place, watching us leave.
“She seems a little unstable, doesn’t she?” Caitlin says, her voice pitched just loud enough to carry. “Isn’t she like a nurse or something? It’s concerning; maybe someone should look into that.”
A surprised chuckle escapes me, and I press a kiss to her forehead, my heart light despite the scene we’re leaving behind.
As the elevator doors close behind us, we can still hear Millie’s voice rising once more, a fresh wave of indignation washing through the waiting room. But it’s distant now, fading, no longer our problem.
Caitlin leans against me in the elevator, her body warm and solid against mine. “Maybe I shouldn’t have done that,” she admits quietly. “But I don’t regret it.”
“You earned it,” I tell her, pressing another kiss to her temple. “Every word.”