Chapter 1 #3
Once again, Caitlin got the feeling Melanie didn’t exactly want her around, so she obligingly said, “Thanks, you, too.”
Melanie scurried into the kitchen, and as Caitlin headed toward the spare room, she caught a glimpse of herself in the hallway mirror.
Melanie was right: she looked frazzled. Her blue-gray eyes, which usually appeared large and limpid, seemed clouded and squinty; the layers of her tawny, face-framing mane had gone lifeless and flat; and weariness had wilted her pert mouth into an unintentional frown.
I really need a shower and eight straight hours of sleep. She pressed Jonathan’s name on her phone display. I’ll give him a quick call now, so he won’t try to reach me after I’ve collapsed for the night.
At the same moment Caitlin heard Jonathan’s ringtone in the earpiece of her phone, a muffled ringtone also sounded in the living room. Turning, she realized it was coming from the sofa. She backtracked, slid her hand into the space between the cushions and pulled out Jonathan’s phone.
What’s this doing here? He used it to call me yesterday evening at six, so he must have left it behind sometime after then.
But why would he come here when I’m away?
There was only one explanation. She glanced at the overhead light in the foyer; it was shining brightly.
The bulb had burned out last week, but neither she nor Melanie had been able to unscrew the fixture to replace it.
He must have dropped by to change the bulb for us, just like he promised he would.
Pleased that for once she was dating a man who was true to his word, Caitlin thought, No wonder he hasn’t called me yet—he couldn’t. He’s probably going out of his mind looking for his phone.
As tired as she was from her long day of travel, Caitlin decided she’d swing by Jonathan’s place to return it to him. I’d better let Melanie know I’m leaving so I don’t scare her again when she hears me coming in.
She shuffled into the kitchen and abruptly came to a halt, barely able to process what she was seeing.
A half-empty skillet of paella was cooling on a trivet beside the stovetop.
Two place settings of dirty dishes littered the table in the dining nook.
And, in the center of the room, Jonathan was touching the small of Melanie’s back, and her hands were clasped behind his neck.
They were kissing so aggressively that for a second, Caitlin felt embarrassed, almost as if she were intruding on their privacy, and she momentarily had the impulse to tiptoe from the room. But then a bitter taste stung her mouth and when she cleared her throat, Jonathan and Melanie sprang apart.
“Caitlin!” he exclaimed. With Melanie’s lipstick smeared around his mouth, he looked clownish, and he sounded ridiculous, too, as he uttered the biggest cliché of all time, “This… this isn’t what it looks like.”
“What it looks like is that you and Melanie were kissing.” Caitlin retorted sarcastically, “But if you weren’t, then I must be more jetlagged than I thought I was, and I’m hallucinating.”
Melanie layered her hands over her heart, her forehead puckering into an expression of earnestness.
“I’m genuinely, truly sorry, Caitlin. I didn’t want you to find out this way, but I didn’t expect you back until tomorrow,” she said.
Then, she iterated the second tritest cliché of all time. “We didn’t mean for this to happen.”
“Yeah, it’s not as if I planned it,” asserted Jonathan. “Yesterday on my way home from work, I stopped by to replace the lightbulb in the foyer and we?—”
“Spare me the details,” Caitlin snapped, but Jonathan continued.
“To be honest, we spent most of last evening talking about you ,” he said dolefully. “Melanie was consoling me because I was so disappointed that the minute you finished the campaign you’ve been working on all year, you took off for New Hampshire alone.”
“I went to my aunt’s funeral , Jonathan, not on a singles’ cruise!” sputtered Caitlin.
“Yeah, but did it ever occur to you to ask me to come with you for moral support?”
“Did it ever occur to you I needed time to process my aunt’s passing by myself?” Caitlin shot back.
“Can I just say something?” interjected Melanie, one finger pointed in the air.
Since when does she ask permission to speak? Caitlin resolutely replied, “No, you can’t. I don’t want to hear another word from you, Melanie, and there’s no need for you to say anything anyway. If you and Jonathan want to get together, please, be my guests. I’m through with both of you.”
“Wait a second, Cait—” Jonathan started to say but Caitlin didn’t let him finish.
“You know something, Jonathan? You really should be more careful about where you leave your phone,” she advised, holding it up and moving toward him. “It could get lost. Or ruined.”
Shame-faced, he extended his hand to accept it but at the last second, she swung her arm sideways and dropped the phone into the skillet of leftover paella. Then she spun on her heel to go pack her other suitcases.
Whether she was ready or not, and no matter how much she dreaded it, for the first time in twenty years, Caitlin was going back to Dune Island.