28. Rose
28
ROSE
T he silence in Cole’s living room was deafening. I sat on his stupid, perfect couch, the kind that looked like it had never been sat on before, and stared at the clock on the wall. Every tick felt like a slap. He was officially three hours and fifteen minutes late. No call. No text. Nothing. He said he might be as late as six, but I was sitting here past eight p.m. and I'd already eaten alone.
I tried to convince myself that he had a good reason. Maybe his phone died. Maybe he got stuck in traffic. Maybe—oh, who was I kidding? He’d stood me up. For what, I had no idea. But I was done sitting here waiting for him to explain.
The twins shifted inside me, and I felt a sudden, sharp pang of guilt. They didn’t ask to be dragged into this mess, into my whirlwind of bad decisions and even worse timing. And I hadn't even thought of how to broach that topic with Cole yet. Not with what he'd been going through. “I know, I know,” I whispered, rubbing my belly. “Daddy was supposed to be here by now.”
Daddy. The word felt heavy, foreign. And right now, Cole wasn’t doing much to earn it. His drinking was out of control. He was always in a mood, and now he was standing me up.
My stomach churned, as if it had decided to team up with the clock in shaming me for sitting here for so long. I needed to rest, but my stubborn streak didn’t want to leave before he showed up. Not until I could at least give him a piece of my mind. My body had been through the wringer lately with stress. Taking care of him while growing two babies was taking its toll on me. My blood pressure was too high and I just wasn't sleeping right.
I grabbed my phone again and checked it for what had to be the hundredth time. Still no missed calls, no texts. Just the two voicemails I’d already left him, both unanswered.
“Hey, it’s me. Are you on your way?” That one had been hopeful. Naive. He'd never been late, but he never gave me a reason for why he wasn't home. Everyone at Twin Peaks knew he wasn’t taking surgeries. I figured it was because of the lawsuit and his stress level. But maybe he just didn’t trust himself after drinking so much.
The second one was less friendly. “Cole, where the hell are you? I’ve been here for over an hour.”
I wanted to leave a third just to really drive the point home, but what was the point? He wasn’t answering, and I was done feeling like a complete idiot for thinking tonight was going to be special. I planned to tell him. I had a onesie with the word Daddy on it to give him, and then another to hand him that said Mommy , hoping he'd get the point that there were two of them. Now I didn't even know if I wanted to tell him yet.
“Fine,” I muttered, shoving my phone into my bag. My movements were jerky, frustration making my hands clumsy. I stood up, grabbed my coat, and glanced around the room one last time. I left his food in the fridge, my container in the trash to show him I'd eaten. It was kind of him to set up the candles and music, but I shut it off immediately. As I left, I blew each of the candles out and then locked up.
I didn’t bother leaving a note. If he couldn’t bother to show up, why should I?
I slammed the door behind me and headed out into the night. If Cole wanted to explain himself, he could damn well figure out how to find me.
By the time I got up to the apartment, I was soaked to the bone. It had started raining halfway home, and I’d been too pissed off to grab my umbrella from the trunk. The cold drizzle seemed fitting somehow, like the universe was piling on just for kicks. Like it conspired with Cole to break me further.
The second I opened the door, Alana was there, her face etched with worry. She took one look at me and gasped. “Rose, what the hell happened? You’re drenched!” She ushered me in and shut the door behind me, then she grabbed a towel and peeled my sweater off me and wrapped the towel around my shoulders.
I didn’t answer. I just kicked off my shoes, dropped my bag by the door, and went straight for the couch. My body felt heavy, like I’d been carrying the weight of my frustration and heartbreak for months instead of hours. The farther along in this pregnancy I got, the more depressing it was. I was supposed to be enjoying these moments, and I just felt guilty for keeping the secret and angry that Cole wasn't what I needed. Which only made me feel guiltier for thinking that while he was struggling.
Alana grabbed another towel from the bathroom and tossed it at me before sitting down next to me. “Did Cole do something?” she asked, her voice gentle but probing. “You were so excited about tonight.”
I laughed bitterly, the sound sharp and ugly. “He didn’t do anything because he didn’t even show up.” I dabbed at my pants and peeled my socks off. I couldn’t believe how a little sprinkle turned into that downpour, and I managed to step in every puddle in the parking lot.
“What?” Her eyes widened. “He stood you up at his own house? That asshole.”
I nodded, rubbing the towel over my head. “I waited for over three hours—almost four. He didn’t call, didn’t text. Nothing.”
Alana reached out and squeezed my hand, her thumb brushing over my knuckles. “I’m so sorry, Rose. That’s… awful. He doesn’t deserve you.” Her sympathetic expression made me sigh hard. He didn't deserve me, but I loved him. And it wasn't that he was being an ass. I was sure of it. I just wished he'd have called me.
“It’s not just tonight,” I said, my voice breaking. I felt the tears welling up, though that had become pretty normal too. Pregnancy hormones were awful. “It’s everything. I can’t keep doing this. Between Cole, the twins, my health—it’s too much. I’ve been trying to hold it together, but I can’t anymore.”
Alana’s expression softened, her eyes filling with concern. “What are you saying?” She'd been here supporting me since the moment I took that test and she walked into the bathroom. She knew as well as anyone else how I felt about this pregnancy. She knew I blamed myself for not being careful. And she knew how I'd come to accept it and look forward to motherhood. I just wanted them to have a father.
“I’m saying I’m done,” I said, my throat tightening. “I’m quitting my job at Twin Peaks. I can’t handle the long shifts, the stress. It’s not safe for me or the babies. I’m going back to my mom’s house. She can help me, and I’ll have time to figure things out.” I felt horrible. I knew she relied on my income to pay her bills here, and meeting me was an answer to her prayers. I felt like a bad friend and on top of that, I felt like a failure.
Alana blinked, her lips parting like she wanted to argue, but she stopped herself. Finally, she said, “If that’s what you need to do, I get it. I just… I’ll miss you so much.” Her lip quivered as she spoke, and I knew she was feeling as sad about this as I was, but I didn't have a choice. At twenty weeks pregnant with twins and struggling with health issues on top of that, I needed rest and my mom.
I bit my lip, trying to keep the tears at bay. “I’ll miss you too. But I have to put the babies first. I don’t have a choice.”
She nodded, though her smile was sad. “Rick and I will manage. You just focus on you, okay? And don’t forget to call me. A lot.” The idea that Rick would move in and help her was comforting, but I got jealous too. I just knew I couldn't do it anymore and I tried not to take offense.
“I won’t,” I promised, though the words felt hollow. It already felt like goodbye.
After Alana disappeared into her room to call Rick, I sat there alone, staring at the beige carpet like it held all the answers to the mess my life had become. The apartment felt too quiet, the kind of silence that pressed against my chest and made it hard to breathe. The rain outside had slowed, the rhythmic patter against the window the only sound keeping me company.
I attempted to pull my knees up to my chest and rest my chin on them, but my growing belly got in the way. Cole’s empty living room flashed in my mind. I’d sat there tonight, ready to tell him about the twins, ready to give him a chance to step up—and instead, I’d gotten nothing. No Cole. No explanation. Just more evidence that I was in this alone.
I pressed my hands against my belly, feeling the faintest of flutters. The thought of raising twins by myself terrified me. Would I be enough? What kind of life could I give them on my own? I was already stretched so thin, my health teetering most days. I couldn’t keep working long shifts at Twin Peaks, running myself ragged.
And yet, what else could I do? Cole wasn’t reliable. Tonight proved that. If I told him about the twins now, what would happen? Would he suddenly show up with roses and promises? Would he even care? And if he did, would it last? A small, bitter laugh escaped me. I already knew the answer.
I had to protect myself. More importantly, I had to protect the twins. No chasing after Cole, no bending over backward to accommodate him. If he wanted to be part of their lives, fine, but it would be on my terms. And if he didn’t? Well, I’d figure it out. Somehow.
I glanced at my phone on the coffee table, hesitating for a moment before picking it up. My hands were shaking as I scrolled through my contacts and found my mom’s number. She’d told me I could come back home any time. I’d resisted for weeks, stubbornly clinging to the idea of independence. But I wasn’t independent. Not anymore.
The line rang twice before she picked up, her voice warm and familiar. “Rose? Sweetheart, is everything okay?”
I took a deep breath, my throat tightening. “Mom, I… I need to come home.”
Her answer was immediate, firm, and exactly what I needed. “Of course, honey. Your room is ready.”