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Cole drags ahand through his hair, sighing. “I don’t know.”
I hesitate. “Do you want him to be in Robbie’s life?”
He doesn’t answer right away. “I think so,” he admits finally. “But I need to be sure. I need to know he’s really changed.”
I nod, understanding that completely. “And does Robbie know anything?”
Cole shakes his head. “Not yet. He doesn’t even remember him or know anything about him.”
We lapse into silence again, and I realize I don’t feel as angry as I did before. The hurt is still there, but it’s not raw anymore.
I let out a slow breath. “I hate that you weren’t there today.”
“I know,” he says quietly.
“But I understand.”
His gaze flicks to mine, something unreadable passing through his expression.
And in that moment, I know we’ll be okay.
We still have a long way to go, but we’ll be okay.
Chapter Forty Seven
Cole
The house is quiet, the kind of quiet that settles deep in your bones.
I sit in my office, staring out the floor-to-ceiling windows, watching as the afternoon sun casts long shadows across the manicured lawn. Somewhere in the house, I know Annie is working on something—probably sketching, completely lost in whatever designs are in her head. And Robbie? He’s playing, reading, maybe running around outside somewhere.
A few months ago, this house didn’t feel like a home. It was just a space—big, empty, filled with things but not with warmth.
And now?
Now, it feels different. Because of her.
Annie came into our lives like a force of nature, turning everything upside down, pushing through my carefully built walls, and leaving a mark on me that I’ll never be able to erase. She’s changed me. Changed Robbie. Changed everything.
And soon, we’re going to have three more little lives in this house.
Triplets.
It still doesn’t feel real.
I drag a hand down my face, exhaling slowly. I never thought I’d be here—thinking about a future that wasn’t just about Robbie and me. I never expected to fall for someone again, to even consider the possibility of sharing my life with another person.
But here I am.
I glance down at my desk, at the ultrasound picture Annie threw at me last night in her frustration. I pick it up, my thumb running over the edges of the glossy paper. Three tiny shapes. Three tiny heartbeats.
And I missed it.
A knot tightens in my chest.
I should have been there. No matter what.
Alan showing up threw me off—I won’t deny that.