by Daphne Dawn
Now she’s next to me on the living room sofa, her hand resting on my shoulder.
“You think so, huh?” Jenna smiles gently with knowing compassion. I emit a brief wheeze, which is as close to laughing as I could get at present.
“Only you could get a laugh from me right now.”
“Hey, I’m good for some things.”
“So you believe it?”
“I believe my eyes. I recognize that kind of pain all too well.”
“And you’ve gotten over it...”
“And so will you. You know that. We’ve all been through this shit.”
I shift away from Jenna on the sofa and face forward, looking at the wall.
“I’m going to need to some time, though.” I don’t know what I mean by that.
“Of course.” Jenna seems to know.
“I don’t think I can do it anymore.”
“Rose, they’ve had you long enough.”
“I guess that is what I’m talking about. Just, resetting...”
“Go. Find a sunny spot, take some time for yourself, figure it out.”
“Yeah,” I respond, kind of dumbly.
“And it’ll be time for you to bloom, Rose. I’ve been waiting years to use that one. But seriously, I’m picking up Jayden from his friend’s in like an hour, so...”
I don’t object to Jenna leaving. I’ve got things to do.
I walk Jenna out so I can pick up a pint of ice cream at the store downstairs.
It serves me well as I find a draft of my resignation letter, which I knew I’d be using someday, and print it out with tomorrow’s date.
I want to feel like a kid in a candy store trying to find a vacation rental somewhere tropical, beautiful, and far away from everything I know.
I’m not much for feeling excited tonight, though.
Looking through beach house rentals all over the world, I find a good deal in an unexpected location.
I sleep like a rock, and I hand in my resignation bright and early the next morning.
Everyone’s too shocked to say much, but that’s for the best.
After my last day of work, I pack in sort of a rush.
I have a teeming mass of impatient thoughts and feelings, but I want to wait until I get to the beach house to think about any of it.
I don’t have to wait long, though.
After a forty-minute ride on the N train, I get out at Coney Island. I walk with my two hefty pieces of luggage down to my beachside loft to check in.
The loft has a weird floor plan, but it’s lovely, and it’s set apart from everything.
It’s so set apart that all I end up doing the first day is setting a towel down on the sand and setting myself down to stare at the water.
The weather is perfect. I can barely see and hear the Coney Island crowds in the distance.
Sitting on the sand, I feel just calm enough to numb myself for a while, but I’m not figuring much out, either.
After two days, I give up and wander into the crowds at Coney Island. Apart from a few confused tourists, the only people who try to talk to me are guys.
There are a lot of guys, and most of them are shirtless. Yet it’s like I’m looking right through them.
That scares me. I really let myself go off the deep end with Daniel.
Halfway through the week, I retreat to my loft.
I exchange a couple texts with Jenna, but I don’t talk with anyone. I cook with the groceries the property owners left for me. I only venture outside to sit at my quiet spot on the beach.
My quiet spot doesn’t seem to help much. When the week is almost over, all I can think is It’s been three weeks, nearly a month, and Daniel still hasn’t even tried to talk to me, not even to explain himself.
My week is nearly up, and now I’m crying again.
Dammit.
A week’s not enough, I guess, but I have to get over this soon.
I’ve got no other choice.
Daniel
I’ve been here in London for already a week, and I’m anxious to get home again, although I begrudgingly understand that I’ll be walking in the door to Maggie, not Rose.
My mother raised me to respect women, and that’s exactly what I intend to do. I don’t want to hurt Maggie by any means.
I’ll keep my word. If Darren is my son, then I’ll pick up the slack and will promise to make up for lost time with him.
The problem is that the results are taking far longer than I expected. I don’t fucking get it. In this day and age, shouldn’t something like that be available, I don’t know, fucking instantly?
I finish up my packing in my hotel room, eager to get back to New York.
I had been across the pond to check on an issue with one of my hotels here, and now that everything is back under control, I’m ready to get back to where I belong…with Rose.
I haven’t spoken to Rose since that day in my penthouse when Maggie showed up with Darren, demanding that I claim the son she’s certain is mine.
Even though I’m not with her right now, I know that Rose is just as eager to see the DNA testing results.
When I have everything ready to go, I turn in my hotel key and have a driver take me to Heathrow. My flight leaves in just two hours, and I plan on using the quality time on the trip back to think on everything that’s happened.
Rose deserves the whole truth, but frankly, so do I. I peel back the layers of my memory. I am fairly confident that Maggie was, in fact, on birth control at the time we broke up.
She wanted to focus on her career and never mentioned anything remotely resembling a pregnancy.
After boarding the plane, I order a gin and tonic and wear an eye mask. I get my neck pillow in place and heave a grand sigh as I lean back in my seat.
Hopefully, once I plant my feet back on American soil, I’ll be closer to a resolution where Rose and I can put this silly mix-up behind us.
When I step into my penthouse, Maggie and Darren are laughing together at the kitchen island. I cringe when I notice that Maggie is wearing one of the freshly dry-cleaned white button-down collared shirts I had washed just before I left for London.
She’s also wearing tiny pajama shorts underneath them. I toss the keys onto the counter by the door and shrug off my jacket while I carefully place my suitcase on the floor.
Maggie meets my gaze and gives me a wink as she ruffles her son’s hair. I recoil slightly.
I want to ask her what the hell she’s doing, but I hate to quarrel in front of the kid. He’s probably been through enough already as it is.
Cartoons are blaring from the sixty-inch flat screen above my fireplace in the living room, but they’re visible to the kid due to the open concept of my floor plan.
Darren is eating cereal and gives me a shy smile as I greet the two of them. I immediately notice that the counter tops, which I prefer to be kept clean at all times, are laden with dirty dishes.
My irritation is soaring through the fucking roof, and it hasn’t even been five fucking minutes since I got home.
“Uh, Maggie?” I scratch my head, trying to speak with as much politeness as I can.
“Yeah?” She gives me a seductive look as she puts a strawberry to her lips.
“Do you think you could clean up some of these dishes after you’ve finished eating?” I hate sounding like I’m trying to appease her. It’s my apartment that she’s invading after all.
“Sure.” Maggie shrugs with indifference.
The kid finishes his cereal and glances up at Maggie. “Mom, can I go watch cartoons in Mr. Daniel’s living room?” He points to the TV mounted on the wall.
“Of course, sweetie.” She strokes his cheek and plants a kiss on his forehead before he skips off. Then, she gives me a smile as if her son is the most adorable human on earth. “I guess it will take some time for him to start calling you Dad.”
I glance at the boy who’s happily sitting on the floor, his legs crossed and staring up at the TV.
; “Maggie...” I begin, running a hand through my hair. “Have you heard anything about the results? It’s been weeks now.”
“Nope.” Maggie shakes her head and splashes a disgruntled look over her face. “It won’t matter anyway. We’re a family, Daniel.”
“Maggie, if he’s mine, sure...I’ll take responsibility. That doesn’t mean we’ll be a family.” I give her a firm stare.
She reacts like she’s totally fucking unfazed. “We’ll see,” she states with breezy confidence as she begins to rinse and wash the dishes on the counter.
It’s been three weeks since I took the DNA test. Three fucking long weeks.
Maggie is driving me crazy, waltzing around my penthouse apartment like she owns the place, helping herself to my food and laying around as if she belongs there.
I hate the way things are moving, as if we were a real couple or something. I decide to take matters into my own hands. If I want results from the lab, I’m going to just have to call them myself and demand an answer.
I wait until Maggie leaves one afternoon to pick up Darren from school before I dial the number to the hospital.
I have to jump through a few hoops and get redirected a few times on the call, but I finally reach a live person on the other end from the lab.
I clear my throat, explaining to the nice woman on the phone who I am, and that I’m waiting for DNA results.
The woman sounds confused at first. “I’ve been trying to reach you for almost three weeks now,” she admits.
“Um, what?” I ask, feeling slightly alarmed.
“Yes,” the woman confirms. “A woman keeps answering on your home line. Every time I call, she tells me either you aren’t home, or you’re unavailable and there is no other way to reach you.”
Instant fury seethes in my veins. “Well, here I am,” I say through clenched teeth.
“You are more than welcome to come view the results, sir,” the woman says. “We will just need you to come in person so that we can match your identification for confidentiality reasons.”
“I’ll be right there,” I tell the woman and hastily hang up the phone.
I don’t have time to call my driver, so I flag down a cab and rush to the hospital, marching through the doors to the lab with my ID in hand.
I receive the little manila envelope with the results, my hands trembling so much that I have a difficult time opening the package.
I take the sealed white documents out of their container and scan the results.
Negative….no matching DNA.
I stare at the words, feeling both enraged and vindicated at the same time. I clutch the results tightly in my white-knuckled hands all the way home.
When I get back inside the penthouse, Maggie is sitting at the kitchen table, wearing a black jumper with her leg propped casually up on the table. She’s scrolling through her social media feeds and smiling.
Once she takes one solid look at me, though, her smug satisfaction collapses and she turns as white as a ghost.
She defensively stands up and takes a step back. I wave the DNA papers in front of her.
“Read this Maggie,” I practically roar. I’m so angry I don’t even recognize myself. “Negative. Darren isn’t my son.”
Tears tumble down Maggie’s eyes. “I’m sorry…I really thought he was yours,” she yelps like a wounded puppy.
“You lied to me,” I growl at her. “Unforgivable!”
“Daniel…we’re good together,” Maggie pleads, still unwilling to give up the fight.
“Get out!” I demand. “Get out of my house now.”
A look of shame settles on Maggie’s face as her son comes out from the hallway looking scared. She quickly composes herself and dries her tears while the boy looks on in confusion.
But I can’t worry about her right now. I need to find Rose and tell her the results. I grab my keys to leave when Maggie stops me, gripping me by the elbow.
“Wait,” she says, clutching me. “Do you love her? Do you love Rose?” Her eyes are bloodshot, red and swollen with tears and desperation.
I don’t even have to hesitate before responding. “Yes,” I tell Maggie coldly. “I love Rose.” I shrug her off and run out the door to chase down my dreams before they slip through my fingers forever.
When I arrive at Rose’s apartment about fifteen minutes later, I’m a sweaty, panting ball of stress. I ring the doorbell, but then find myself pounding on the door a few seconds later in frustration, frantically calling out Rose’s name.
I lean against the door, trying to compose myself. To my surprise, Rose’s cousin Jenna answers the door. As soon as she sees me, she immediately moves to slam the door in my face.
“No, stop!” I cry out, putting my shoulder against it to keep it open.
Jenna gives me a sullen eye roll and crosses her arms over her chest. “What the hell do you want?”
“I need to see Rose,” I tell her, craning my neck to look past her into the apartment.
“She’s not here,” Jenna states flatly and tries to push the door closed again, but I’m stronger.
“When will she be back? Or will you just tell me where she is?” I beg.
Jenna’s face contorts into disgust. I have no idea whether she’s lying, and Rose is actually in her bedroom, but I can’t just shove her aside and tumble unwanted into the apartment.
I use a gentler approach. “Please, tell me where she is, Jenna.” I make eye contact with her. “I understand you’re angry and upset, just as Rose is, and you both have every right to be.”
Jenna sighs dramatically, a look of annoyance on her face, but I can tell she’s caving.
“Please,” I continue, pleading my case. “Everything is just a misunderstanding. I need to explain everything to Rose, but I need your help in finding her.” I give her a pitiful look.
Jenna studies me for a moment. “Do you love Rose?”
“Yes!” I exclaim, ready to shout it from the rooftops if I have to.
That’s when I realize—I didn’t hesitate to profess my love for Rose to Maggie and Jenna. There had never been any doubt as to what I felt for her.
Determination swells in my heart, and I plead with Jenna one last time, looking into her eyes and searching for any residing compassion and empathy.
“Come on, Jenna,” I tell her. “The kid isn’t mine, and I need to tell Rose.”
Finally, after what seems like an eternity of pestering, Jenna caves.
“Okay,” she sighs and places her hand on the door jam. “I’ll tell you where she is if you promise not to hurt her again.”
“Never again,” I vow firmly, looking her stone cold in the eyes.
“She’s at the beach,” Jenna reveals. “Out by Coney Island.”
I lean in to give Jenna a hug, thanking her and the stars above for helping me in my quest. Jenna reluctantly hugs me back, but I can tell by her eyes that she’s smiling internally and rooting for us.
I get my driver to bring me out to Coney Island. I wander the beach for a while before I spot her—the woman I’ve given my heart to without knowing it.
I walk up to her, keeping to the side, so that she won’t notice me right away. Her hair dances around her like billows of strands stretching out to the sky, like feathers reaching for the sea.
The early morning hues of the sky reflect a pinkish purply glow around Rose that makes her dauntingly magnificent.
I approach her carefully and stand just above where she has her knees tucked up to her chest and her toes curled into the sand.
“May I sit?” I request.
Rose stills for a second before she glances at me briefly. Then, she sets her eyes back on the Atlantic horizon. She doesn’t respond, but she doesn’t get up and walk away either, so I take that as a step in the right direction.
I grunt and crouch down on the sand beside her. “You don’t have to say anything,” I begin. “I know you’re really mad at me. Just hear me out for a minute. Let me explain everything.”
Rose doesn’t flinch or blink. She continues to look out at the scope of the ocean as the waves swell and crash to the shore.
“The kid isn’t mine,” I tell her. “The DNA test was negative. Maggie was just trying to trap me. Whatever we had between us was long gone, even before you came.”
Confusion appears on Rose’s face. She stands up and begins to walk away, but I’ve come too far to lose her now.
I try to walk beside her, but she pushes me away.
“Stop it!” she screams. “Leave me alone!”
I do as she says and allow her to wander a few steps ahead.
“Rose!” I shout to her on the empty beach. “Come back here. I love you, dammit!”
Rose halts in her tracks, her tiny footprints leaving a trail in her wake. She slowly spins around and gives me a quizzical look.
“I love you!” I declare again, not only to her but to the whole fucking world if it wants to hear. I raise my hands above my head and profess it with vigor. “I don’t know what I’ll do if I lose you.”
Finally, I notice the faintest smile cross her lips, but it’s so subtle under the fresh morning sunlight that it’s hard to see.
Then, out of nowhere, Rose doubles over and begins retching, dry heaving and clutching the sand.
“Rose?” I jog up to help her and, in that instant, she vomits all over the fucking beach.
Rose
“Rose, are you okay?”
Daniel’s hand tenderly resting on my shoulder is like a strong cup of coffee, waking me up from the dull, lifeless week I had hiding out on the beach.
I enjoy the feeling so much that I don’t respond right away—especially once the feeling starts evolving. The feel of Daniel’s touch, which I haven’t felt in a fucking long time, is sending little shivers from my shoulder to my toes.
Heat flows through me as well, and I don’t think it has anything to do with the fact I just vomited right on the fucking sand.
Blech! It’s right between Daniel’s feet and mine—but I don’t want to look at it anymore.
So, at last, I raise my head, and meet Daniel’s pleading eyes. His touch and those eyes obliterate all the bullshit, all the torment I’ve been putting myself through for days.
