34. Epilogue Rose
T he sound of the twins’ soft breathing filled the nursery, their tiny chests rising and falling in perfect rhythm. I lingered a moment longer, watching them sleep, before quietly closing the door and heading downstairs.
Cole’s house—our house now—still felt unfamiliar in some ways. The furniture was sleek, modern, and meticulously chosen, evidence of his careful attention to detail. But there were already signs of change. A burp cloth draped over the arm of the couch, a bottle drying on the counter, and my laptop perched on the kitchen table amid stacks of paperwork.
I settled in at the table, pulling up the job search site I’d bookmarked. The thought of going back to work filled me with mixed emotions. On one hand, I wanted to contribute, to find my own way forward. On the other, the idea of leaving the twins so soon tugged at me in ways I wasn’t ready to examine too closely.
I was scrolling through listings when I heard the front door open. Heavy footsteps followed, and a moment later, Cole appeared in the doorway. His tie was loosened, his sleeves rolled up, and his expression softened the moment he saw me.
“Hey,” he said, dropping his bag by the door and leaning against the frame. “How were the twins today?”
“Perfect,” I said, smiling. “They napped longer this afternoon, so they should sleep better tonight.”
He grinned, running a hand through his hair. “That’s good news. And you? What have you been up to?”
I gestured to the screen in front of me. “Just looking at some job openings. Trying to see what’s out there.”
His brow furrowed slightly as he came closer, pulling out a chair and sitting across from me. “Rose, you don’t have to rush into anything. It's only been six months. You’ve got enough on your plate with the twins and with everything we’ve been through.”
“I know,” I said, meeting his gaze. “But I need to feel… I don’t know, useful. Like I’m contributing.”
“You’re already contributing,” he said firmly. “This house feels alive because of you. And the babies? They’re thriving because of you.”
His words made my heart twist in that familiar, warm way only he could manage. I turned to face him and let his hand cup my cheek. He sat down and pulled a chair up closer. Our knees brushed, and he leaned in to kiss me. His lips were soft and I smiled against them.
When I deepened the kiss, his hand pulled me closer. I loved that he wanted to take care of me, but I was determined to do my part. I wanted to find something I could do for a few hours a day until the twins were more active and needed me around more. Then when they went off to school, I'd return to nursing full time.
"Mmm," I moaned, pulling back with a grin. "Is there more of that for tonight?" I asked playfully, and he smirked at me.
"Why wait for tonight?" he said, winking.
My body started to stir, my pulse quickening as Cole leaned in, his lips brushing just shy of mine. But before we could even kiss again, a familiar sound broke the moment—Ember’s tiny wail, quickly followed by Astrid’s soft cry.
“Duty calls,” I said, sighing as I stood up, though I couldn’t help the smile tugging at my lips.
Cole chuckled, his hand grazing my lower back as I passed. “They’ve got impeccable timing, don’t they?”
“They’re yours, aren’t they?” I teased over my shoulder, heading toward the nursery.
The cries grew louder as I opened the door, and my heart softened at the sight of our daughters. Ember’s tiny fists flailed in the air, while Astrid had managed to wriggle half out of her swaddle. Their faces were scrunched in tandem, their cries a symphony of newborn need.
I scooped up Ember first, cradling her against my chest as her wails softened into hiccups. “Shh, it’s okay, little one. Mommy’s here.”
Cole appeared behind me, already reaching for Astrid. He held her with practiced ease, swaying gently as her cries quieted almost instantly. “There we go,” he murmured, his deep voice soothing. “You’ve got to stop making me look bad, Astrid, always calming down so fast.”
I laughed softly, adjusting Ember in my arms as I moved to the rocking chair. The routine was second nature now—feedings, burping, soothing. Even in the haze of exhaustion, it was a rhythm I loved, a tangible reminder that our little family was thriving.
Cole sat on the ottoman in front of me, holding Astrid close as he watched me nurse Ember. The way he looked at me, with so much quiet admiration, made my chest ache in the best way.
“You’re incredible, you know that?” he said softly.
I raised an eyebrow, a teasing smile on my lips. “For feeding our baby? I think the bar’s a little low, Dr. Hastings.”
He shook his head, his smile never fading. “Not just for this. For everything. For being the glue holding us all together. For believing in me when I didn’t deserve it. For saying yes.”
My throat tightened, but I managed to keep my voice steady. “You’re pretty incredible yourself, you know. For stepping up, for loving us the way you do. For letting me take over your pristine house with baby chaos.”
He grinned, glancing around the nursery. “It’s not chaos. It’s life. And it’s ours.”
I leaned my head back, letting the weight of his words settle over me. There was a time, not so long ago, when I wasn’t sure I’d ever feel this—this sense of belonging, of purpose, of hope. Yet here I was, surrounded by love in its purest, simplest form.
Once the girls were fed and burped, we laid them back down in their cribs, their tiny bodies curling into peaceful sleep. Cole draped an arm around my shoulders as we stood there watching them, his thumb brushing gentle circles against my arm.
“They’re perfect,” he whispered, his voice full of awe.
“They are,” I agreed, my voice barely above a breath. “And so are you.”
He turned to me, his eyes searching mine. “You know, I wasn’t sure I could do this, be a father. But you… you make me want to be better every day.”
My heart swelled, the vulnerability in his voice breaking down the last of my walls. “You’re already the best, Cole. For them, for me. For us.”
He pulled me close, pressing a kiss to my forehead. “I love you, Rose. I don’t say it enough, but I do. With everything I have.”
Tears pricked my eyes, but they were happy ones. “I love you too. And I always will.”
We stood there a moment longer, the soft sounds of the twins’ breathing filling the room, a quiet reminder of how far we’d come. The road hadn’t been easy, and there would undoubtedly be challenges ahead. But for the first time in a long time, the future felt bright.
Together, we could handle anything. Together, we were home.