Chapter 28
28
Three weeks later
Boston
Tom thought it would have been more dramatic if it was raining when he arrived, but it was a rare and lovely clear spring day. The modest Dorchester neighborhood where Rosie had grown up was full of people outside in the sun to wash the last winter salt off rusting cars.
He paced the sidewalk opposite the white two-story home he’d last visited more than a decade before, wishing he could smoke. It had been almost six months since his last cigarette, and it hadn’t been a regular habit even then, but Rosie’s uncles and cousins were cycling in and out to smoke on the porch, and either the secondhand waft of tobacco across the street or Tom’s nervousness about the situation was making him crave a big carcinogenic punch of nicotine straight to his lungs.
After twenty minutes, someone called him on his lurking. A redhead emerged from Rosie’s house and crossed the street to fix him with a judgmental stare that took in his poorly fitting oxford and ratty old backpack.
“You’re late,” his best friend grumped at him.
“I was on time. I just…didn’t know everyone was going to be here,” Tom told Adrian, eyeing the full house across the street. It looked like Rosie’s parents were throwing a party to welcome Max home from the hospital, and Tom had not exactly been invited.
“I assume from Rose’s reaction when I turned up here that you didn’t tell her you were coming either?”
Tom nervously rubbed the back of his neck at this accurate statement. He hadn’t seen Rosie since she’d left Martha’s Vineyard, though it wasn’t like she hadn’t been in touch. There was a long chain of perfectly domestic texts from her on his phone, ones that began early in the morning and ended late at night.
Rosie: Max has Playbills for all your shows in a file in her desk. Thank you
and
Rosie: I put both our names on the play gym for Ximena’s baby shower. The registry had all this beige linen stuff but I think they’ll hear about it in family therapy if they assign the kid Victorian explorer at birth?
and
Rosie: I got my period in the hospital billing department. Somehow life-affirming?
If Tom had been hit by an MTA bus on his way to rehearsal, any stranger who found his phone might have looked at these messages and assumed, That’s his partner. And while he was glad to know exactly where Rosie was and what she was doing if he couldn’t actually be with her, he would really rather have been with her. For one, he missed her. And for another thing, her dickbag family had predictably dropped everything into Rose’s small hands, even though Max had three perfectly capable younger brothers and half a dozen other nephews and nieces in the Boston area alone who could have helped out. Instead, Rosie and Max were both staying at her parents’ house while Rosie figured out what level of care Max was going to need and how she was going to afford it.
So Tom spent his days looking at his phone, wishing for a life with Rosie outside of it, and his nights awake and fixated on the terrible unfairness of Rosie dealing with hospital bills, outpatient rehab, and health aides all on her own. After three weeks of this, he sat bolt upright with a realization: Oh fuck me, I did it again.
Why was he waiting for Rosie to ask him for help? She never asked.
He got out of bed and started to pack, then took the train to Boston the next day.
“I’ve been making awkward small talk with Rose’s dad for half an hour. I had to pretend to care about basketball ,” Adrian said with a grimace.
“Maybe we should do this tomorrow instead,” Tom said, sweating at the idea of facing down Rosie’s entire family to inform them that they could not be trusted with their two most valuable players. He hadn’t thought anyone but Max and Rosie’s immediate family would be home. Rosie certainly hadn’t mentioned anyone else helping her move Max out of inpatient rehab.
“Caroline needs her car back on Tuesday,” Adrian said, making a shooing gesture with his hands. “If we’re doing this, we’re doing this today.”
Suppressing stage fright he hadn’t felt in years, Tom headed across the street and let himself inside the house. It was much cleaner than he remembered; the stacks of magazines and old mail that Tom had seen during his early visits had vanished, and the place smelled like Windex and Pine-Sol over the lingering odor of cigarettes. Rosie had probably cleaned it. There was a dull roar of male conversation from the back of the house.
Tom still had a poster, somewhere, with the names and faces of Rosie’s relatives pasted onto the full family tree. He’d crammed it before each holiday, trying to recall which name went with which set of Kelly eyebrows. It was all beyond him now, but he recognized Rosie’s dad in the dining room as he entered, standing over a large spread of sandwiches and cold appetizers laid out on the battered oak table. Tom didn’t see Rosie herself, but if he was due to be dragged into the backyard for an ass-kicking, it was better to get it over with where she might not observe it.
“Derek,” Tom said, drawing himself up to his full height—five inches taller than Derek Kelly—and extending his hand. Last time it had been Mr. Kelly , but Tom was going to pretend to all the trappings of adulthood today. “Good to see everyone rally together.”
Derek stopped with a stuffed mushroom cap halfway to his mouth, replaced it on the platter, looked at his fingers, wiped them on his trousers, and took Tom’s hand.
“You bet,” he said vaguely. “Celtics should pull this thing off, I think.”
Tom looked at him with flat consternation. Basketball? What? That was not the greeting he’d been expecting. Wasn’t everyone there to see Max?
“Is this party just…is everyone just here for the playoffs?” Tom asked.
Derek shrugged, still confused. “Rosie kept complaining that nobody had come over yet, so I said we’d get the boys here on game day. And, you know, that girl loves a party.”
Tom couldn’t stop a faint derisive noise in the back of his throat. He was sure that what Rosie had actually wanted was a little help making the house clean and safe for Max. The only sport Tom had ever known Rosie to watch on TV was figure skating.
Derek gave Tom another looking over, eyes lingering on his expensive but poorly fitting shirt, because Tom was not quite back into Boyd’s shape yet.
“Are you another one of Rosie’s friends, then?” Derek asked Tom, and Tom abruptly realized Derek didn’t even know who Tom was. “I thought she said we were just inviting family. I could’ve asked the guys from the office. We’re gonna have a lot of leftovers.” Derek gestured at the plates and plates of food.
Tom drew upon all his performance abilities to keep his expression neutral.
“It’s Tom?” Still nothing. “Tom Wilczewski?” The only son-in-law you’ve ever had? We’ve met dozens of times? You gave Rosie away at our wedding?
“Oh!” Derek said belatedly, surprise creasing his pink features. “I didn’t recognize you with the—” He sketched a hand over his whiskered upper lip.
Tom reflexively rubbed his own itchy mustache.
“It’s for a role,” he said unhappily.
“A role? Oh! So you’re still planning to give the theater thing a go?” Derek said, mildly curious.
“For fifteen years now, yeah,” Tom said.
“Huh. Well, nice of you to stop by. Did you…did you come to see Max, then?”
“Rosie and Max,” Tom said.
Derek laughed politely. “Rosie’s fine, of course. And Max’s doing all right under the circumstances, I guess. It’s not ideal.” He made a face.
“Yeah, of course,” Tom echoed.
It seemed that Derek was not holding any grudges. He just didn’t care at all. And as infuriating as that was, it only made it simpler for Tom to get the girls and go. Derek wouldn’t try to stop him.
“I didn’t realize you still saw either of them,” Derek said.
“I’ve been helping out at the inn over the last few months,” Tom said.
Derek grunted and shoved more food in his mouth before answering. “Don’t suppose I have you to thank for the new pink trim?”
“That was all Rosie. But it looks nice, don’t you think?”
“Nice?” the older man snorted. “It’ll sure add to the time it takes to get the place sold. Christ, what a mess.”
“Sold?” Tom said warily. “Did Rosie change her mind?”
“Well, she had to. Max obviously can’t stay here forever, and assisted living’s damn expensive. Rosie finally said she’d put it on the market after I walked her through the finances. It’s the smart choice.”
It didn’t seem to occur to Derek that Rosie might be both smart and devastated. God, the futility of it all. Three months pouring her heart into the place, only to lose it after all. Tom barely kept his fists from clenching.
You don’t deserve her. The thought was incendiary at the top of Tom’s mind. Not just him, because he’d always thought that, but her family. People like Rosie kept the entire world turning, managed baby showers and home health aides, remembered birthdays and anniversaries. Didn’t they know how lucky they were to have her?
“Do you know where she is?” Tom managed to ask without shouting.
Derek pointed upstairs. “She said she wasn’t feeling well. Hope it isn’t the food. I’ve had about five of these salami roses, and so has everyone else.”
This was so offensive to Rosie. Derek should have dragged Tom outside to yell at him for breaking Rosie’s heart ten years ago. He should have demanded that Tom state his intentions. He should have given Tom a hard time, at least .
“Well, good to catch up,” Tom lied, shaking Derek’s sticky hand again and excusing himself. He didn’t greet any of Rosie’s other relatives, just wove through the crowd of short, round people until he was in the living room, which was dominated by a big entertainment console and a sofa bed with Max’s suitcases tucked behind it. Nobody gave him more than a half-curious look.
Max was seated in a new armchair, one of those zero-gravity seats, but the pained expression on her face didn’t seem to have to do with her broken hip. Everyone else was standing, eyes glued to the preshow. Tom knelt down next to Max’s chair and kissed her cheek.
“Hello Tomasz,” she said, clearing her throat. Rosie had said she was on a lot of pain meds, but she seemed with it enough to be bored watching basketball with her younger brothers and their sons. She rallied her face into a smirk. “Did you come to watch the game too?”
“Definitely,” he deadpanned. “I love how those shorts fit them. Go green.”
He was rewarded with a faint snort and the dramatic roll of Max’s eyes.
“Can I get you anything?” he asked.
“I was supposed to go shopping with one of my girlfriends this past week. To get a new dress for your premiere. But Rosie keeps scheduling these terrible doctor’s appointments instead,” Max complained. “I haven’t been able to go out yet. The play’s not tonight, is it?”
Max looked put together, her hair and makeup done, tasteful clothes, but someone had put a tacky fleece Celtics throw over her lap and pointed her chair at the TV.
“No, in two weeks. I’ll take you,” Tom promised her, hoping he’d be in a position to do that. He could do this. He could be a Tom who was Rosie’s actual partner.
“You’re a good boy,” Max said, patting in the general direction of his shoulder.
“I’m glad someone thinks so,” Tom said. “Let me just get Rosie. I’ll be right back.”
Gathering all his courage, he went up to the second floor. He still knew the way to Rosie’s former bedroom, the door adorned with holographic stickers of kittens and unicorns and pictures of Rosie in her prom dress, some teenage asshole’s arm around her. Tom knocked, heard no answer, and decided to let himself in anyway.
“Rosie?” he called. “It’s me.”
It was dark and full of storage boxes inside her old room, the only light coming from under the bathroom door. As Tom approached, now even more cautious, Rosie flung the door open. She was wiping her face with a wet hand towel as though she’d just finished crying, throwing up, or possibly doing both at once.
His stomach was a lead ball of worry and dismay, but the wave of surprise and relief that passed over Rosie’s face when she saw him did a lot to dissolve it.
She dropped her towel, ran to him, and immediately locked her arms around his waist. Tom let out a breath he felt like he’d been holding since he’d left the island as she buried her face against his shoulder. He’d been right to come. He was late, but he’d been right.
“You’re here,” she mumbled into the fabric of his shirt, her breath smelling of spearmint toothpaste.
“Of course I’m here,” he said gruffly, pressing his cheek to the top of her head, feeling dizzy with his own relief. He held her tighter, fingertips gripping her like that would really make her his. He bent to kiss her temples, her puffy eyelids, everywhere he could reach without letting go of her. “ You’re here.”
He wasn’t really referring to the bathroom in particular, but Rosie’s face flushed when she glanced back toward the toilet.
“I’m not puking because I’m pregnant,” she said quickly. “My mom forgot I’m allergic to fish, I guess, and she didn’t mention the Worcestershire sauce in the three-bean salad. And I forgot to ask. Oops.”
Tom tensed even though Rosie was trying to play it off like it wasn’t a big deal. Nobody was allowed to be that careless with his Rosie, but it was his own damn fault for letting her leave without him.
“Do you need me to take you to the hospital?” he gritted out.
“No, I think the Benadryl’s going to stay down,” she said, pressing her palms against her eyes. “I’m fine. Really.”
“We’ll discuss this later,” he promised, eyes narrowed.
Future family meals would not be potluck. They would not be here , where Rosie’s asthma had to be acting up. He didn’t care if they ate scrambled eggs and toast in his building common room or if they all flew to Boca to eat his mother’s cabbage rolls. The days of Max and Rosie carrying the entire Kelly clan on their backs ended now.
Back to the original plan. He took a few short breaths to hype himself up. He wasn’t sure exactly what he’d say. It had felt wrong to practice for this—this wasn’t a performance; this was his life and Rosie’s.
“Tom, I’m—I’m really glad to see you. But what are you doing here?” she asked before he could find the words.
“I came to get you,” he blurted out.
“Get me?”
“Back to New York, I mean,” he clarified.
“Baby, I’m sorry, I know, I want to. But—look, I’m sure you saw. Max can’t even get to the bathroom by herself right now. Medicare’s fighting with me on aides…I can’t leave her.”
“Both of you,” Tom said. “Let’s go home. I’ve got Caroline’s SUV—it can fit all Max’s stuff. Adrian’s going to help us get everything packed. We can go right now, be back in New York tonight. You know that anything your dad could do for Max, I can.”
He’d been more eloquent in his life, but for a moment Rosie’s eyes went soft and wondering, and her breath caught.
“I thought about it,” he reassured her. “As soon as performances start, I’ll have every day to get Max to physical therapy, or the senior center, or wherever. You can get back to your job. We’ll take it in shifts. Max can’t stay here in your dad’s living room—”
Rosie had recovered, and she started shaking her head.
“ You can’t stay. Tech week starts tomorrow. This is your first Broadway opening in a decade! Did you even tell your stage manager you were coming up here?”
“I did,” he said, wounded, because he wasn’t that unprofessional. He just knew where his priorities were. He locked eyes with her. “I can miss a day of rehearsal when my girlfriend has a family emergency.” He took another deep breath. “I can for sure miss a day of rehearsal when my wife has a family emergency.”
There was the gauntlet, thrown down.
“Tom…” Rosie’s voice trailed off, expression going fragile and worried. “We can talk about that when I get back.”
“Are you sure you’re not staying up here because you’re scared of what happens next?” he asked, and she flinched, because he had her all figured out now.
He put his hands on her upper arms and chafed them, aching again to just lift her up and carry her to safety.
“Just give me a real chance, okay?” he begged. “Don’t sell the inn just because your dad’s bullying you into it. Give it a chance to work out. Give it a chance to be a huge success. We’ve got time. And give me a chance to be everything I promised you I’d be. Okay? I’ll bring both of you back to New York with me, and I’ll take care of you there. Come home with me.”
He swallowed hard, because Rosie’s tiny body had gone very still. She was listening.
“If you don’t think Max can live alone anymore, she can live with us. We can go to city hall if you want to get married again. We can just tell everyone it’s back on if you don’t. And as soon as the show wraps, we’ll all go back out to the inn. Do you still want kids? We can go ahead and have the kids! Though if you want six of them, we probably need to get started, like, tonight .”
This finally got a reaction out of her, a startled laugh.
“Six? We live in New York. We can afford one, maybe,” she said, wiping at her eyes with her hands until Tom ducked into the bathroom to get her a fresh towel.
“Here,” he said, brushing wisps of her hair away from her eyes until he cupped her face in his hands, fingertips careful. “Did I get it right? Is that what you want?”
“Of course I want that,” she whispered, big blue eyes swimming between hope and hurt as she looked up at him.
“Then please just have it. Have me. That’s all I’m asking. Please accept it from me. I wish I didn’t have to rush you, and I know I don’t have the right to show up after ten years and tell you right now is the right moment, but if you’re ever going to settle for me, please do it now, because you shouldn’t have to be alone in all this either.”
Rosie pulled back against his hands, back going rigid. “Nobody would be settling for you,” she said fiercely. “Stop thinking that about yourself. That’s not what I’m doing. I love you. I have always loved you. And I wanted you to have what you wanted even when I didn’t think that was me. I’m just being careful with us. There’s nothing more important than getting this right.” She fiddled with the hem of his shirt as though trying to fix the lines of it, face conflicted. “I just want you to be sure this is what you want.”
But that was the one thing he hadn’t needed to figure out. He’d always known he loved Rosie like he loved breathing. Knowing he wanted her was the easy part—the hard part was knowing how to have her.
“The only thing I ever knew for sure about my life was that I wanted you in it,” Tom said. “You’re the planner, Rosie. But you’re my only plan.”
He pulled off his backpack and set it down, coming out with a big manila envelope and a ring of keys and fobs. He hadn’t been sure how this gesture would be received, any more than showing up uninvited. But she couldn’t say she didn’t know what he wanted after this.
“I brought you something.” He took Rosie’s hands and turned them palms up to fold them over the key ring. “I talked to my roommate, and he’s willing to extend my sublease for two more weeks. He won’t be in town, so that’s two bedrooms. Here’s a copy of my key. The day before that lease is up, Ximena’s getting induced, and then she’s staying with Luísa’s parents for the six weeks after the baby comes. I’m housesitting. They’ve got two bedrooms. Here’s a copy of their key. After that , Boyd has reshoots in Dubrovnik, and we can have his whole townhouse to ourselves. Here’s the key and security code. And then he’s back through the end of the run. And…happy to have us all stay with him. So. That’s three months, but I’ll start looking for the next place tonight. Somewhere big enough for us and Max.” Tom took a deep breath, aware of how scraped together his proposal sounded. “I can take care of both of you.” That was the part he was dead solid on. He could promise they’d be safe, and he could promise they’d be loved.
Rosie wavered on her feet, looking tired and scared and so, so beautiful to him, the way she had since the day he’d first laid eyes on her in the registrar’s line and scrambled for an excuse to speak to her. He put his whole heart into his voice because his entire world was there in his arms, and he didn’t know if he could keep her there. All he could do was offer this to her and know, finally, that he could make good on every word.
“I spent a decade waiting for you to call me and tell me I could come home. Well, I could have called too, any day before I did. That’s what this is. Come home. I miss you. I love you. I want you in every single one of the days of my life, the good ones and the bad ones. Come home whenever you’re sure. I already am.”