45. Chapter Forty Five
Chapter Forty Five
Cole
The sound of her door closing echoes down the hall, final and absolute.
I stand there for a moment, staring at it, frustration and disappointment weighing heavy on my shoulders.
Disappointment in myself.
She won’t talk to me.
And I don’t blame her.
I let out a long breath and drag a hand down my face before glancing down at the ultrasound she left on the table.
Triplets.
I sink into the chair, gripping the small black-and-white image between my fingers.
Triplets.
I don’t know how long I sit there, staring at it, trying to process the impossible. One baby was already impossible. Three ?
It’s overwhelming. It’s terrifying. And somehow, despite every logical part of me screaming that I should be panicking… I’m not.
I want this.
I want to be there for Annie, for these babies, the same way I should have been today.
But I wasn’t.
I let her down.
And now she’s locked herself in her room, probably thinking I don’t care. That I don’t want this.
That I’m going back to the same man I was when we met.
That couldn’t be further from the truth.
I stand up, exhaling slowly, and head upstairs. I pause in front of her door, pressing my palm against the wood for half a second before I knock gently.
Silence.
I knock again, firmer this time. “Annie.”
Nothing.
I sigh and rest my forehead against the door for a moment before speaking again. “I know you’re mad. You have every right to be. But please, just… just let me explain.”
Still nothing.
I swallow hard and press forward anyway. “I wanted to be there today more than anything.” My voice is quieter now, almost hesitant. “I wasn’t working, Annie. I didn’t get caught up in some meeting or conference call.”
The silence from the other side of the door stretches longer, but I know she’s listening.
She has to be.
I shift my weight, running a hand through my hair. “Just as I was leaving for the appointment, I got a visit.”
Still no response.
I close my eyes briefly before saying the name that I know will get her attention. “It was Robin’s dad. Alan.”
Silence.
But not the kind that means she’s ignoring me. This time, I know she’s listening. I can feel it.
So I keep going.
“I haven’t seen him in over four years,” I say, my voice steady. “Not since a few months after Robin died.” I exhale sharply. “I couldn’t just turn him away.”
I glance down at the ultrasound still in my hand, my grip tightening on it. “Annie, please.”
More silence.
Then, just when I’m about to give up and walk away, the door opens.
Annie doesn’t look at me as she turns and walks back inside. She leaves the door open—a silent invitation.
I take it.
I step inside and quietly close the door behind me.
She sits on the bed, pulling a pillow into her lap, fingers gripping the fabric like she needs something to hold onto.
I hesitate for half a second before moving to sit on the window seat across from her.
I don’t speak right away.
I take a breath. Settle myself.
Then, finally, I tell her.
“When Robin died, Alan… didn’t handle it well.” I exhale slowly, staring at the ultrasound. “Robin’s mother died years before I met her, so it was just the two of them for a long time. She was his everything. Losing her broke him.”
Annie doesn’t say anything, but I see the way she shifts slightly, hugging the pillow a little tighter.
“At first, I tried to be understanding. He was grieving. We all were. But then… he started drinking.” My jaw tightens. “A lot.”
Annie’s eyes flick toward me briefly, but she doesn’t interrupt.
I lean forward, resting my forearms on my knees. “I wanted him to be in Robbie’s life. I tried.” I shake my head. “But then… there was the incident.”
Annie tilts her head slightly. “What incident?”
I let out a humorless breath. “One night, Alan was supposed to be watching Robbie for a couple of hours. When I got there…” I swallow hard, shaking my head. “He was drunk. Passed out. And Robbie—he was only six months old—was just lying there, alone, in the living room, crying.”
Annie’s breath catches, her grip on the pillow tightening.
I look at her then, meeting her gaze head-on. “I don’t know how long. But when I think about what could’ve happened.” I shake my head. “That was it for me. I told him I didn’t want him around Robbie until he got his life together. Until he was sober.”
She doesn’t say anything, but I can see the questions forming in her mind. The battle between understanding and anger.
I sigh, running a hand over my jaw. “Alan never reached out after that. At first, I waited. Hoped he’d call. Show up. Tell me he was getting help. I even offered to pay—whatever it took. But he didn’t. He just… disappeared.”
The room is quiet.
Then, finally, Annie speaks.
“And today?” Her voice is soft. Careful.
I let out a slow breath. “He showed up to tell me he’s been sober for a year.”
Annie blinks. “A year? ”
I nod. “To the day. He got a steady job. Got himself an apartment in a safe part of town. And he…” I hesitate, my throat tight. “He wants another chance.”
Annie studies me carefully. “And what do you want?”
I drag a hand through my hair. “I don’t know. Finding Robbie laying there, crying, hungry, full diaper, while Alan was passed out in a chair. I don’t—I mean, that’s not something you forget.”
She watches me for a long moment, then nods slowly.
I shift slightly, resting my forearms on my knees. “That’s why I wasn’t there today, Annie. Not because I didn’t want to be. But because I couldn’t turn him away. He’s Robin’s dad. Robbie’s grandfather.”
Annie exhales, her shoulders lowering slightly.
I watch her carefully.
She’s still upset. Still hurt.
But maybe—just maybe—she understands now.
And for now, that’s enough.