Chapter 21

Chapter Twenty-One

Phillip

On Tuesday morning the ping of a notification draws my attention away from breakfast to my phone. My mood lifts instantly when I see Rose's name lighting up the screen but my goofy smile slides away as quickly as it came when I open her message.

Rose:

Sorry for the short notice but I'm not well enough to work today. I'll let you know as soon as I'm feeling better.

Concern and disappointment wash over me. If Rose is sick then I want to be there to look after her, not because she isn't more than capable but because she deserves to have someone taking care of her. If it was Blake or Eric, I'd have already left the house, container of soup in hand. But, despite how much our relationship has progressed, I'm not sure how Rose would feel about me just showing up at her flat. Shoving down my over-protective urges I settle for sending a quick reply, telling her to get well soon and to let me know if she needs anything, then I head out to the garage.

Since my painting abilities begin and end with a solid coat of colour on a wall I steer clear of the set, knowing Rose's design is well beyond anything I could ever hope to produce. My contributions to the set project are complete so I'd already been planning to work on the woodland themed blanket box for the Gardners today anyway. What had started out with a request for a woodland themed dressing table for her wife as an anniversary present, led to the couple commissioning more and more pieces, this one being the latest. Soon they'll have a full bedroom set. Settled in at my work bench, I lose myself to the familiar feel of wood taking new shape beneath my chisel. Unfortunately, the meditative process can only do so much and soon my thoughts drift back to Rose. It's nearly lunchtime and she still hasn't opened my text. I know she lives with Aria but I'm worried about her.

There are a couple of portions of leftover butternut squash soup in my freezer from the batch I made on Saturday morning. Taking some over to Rose will kill two birds with one stone—I'll be able to check on her and make sure she gets something healthy in her system. Abandoning my work, I head to the kitchen before I can second-guess myself any further.

After packing up the soup and some ready-to-bake bread rolls in a cool bag I eye the offerings before deciding to throw in a bar of chocolate in case Rose doesn't have any. From what she told me she is probably either sleeping, has a migraine, or is in too much pain to go very far. I dart upstairs and rifle around in my bathroom cupboard before pulling out painkillers and a microwavable heat pack to throw in my bag. She probably has stuff like that already but it can't hurt to have extra on hand. Firing off a quick text to let her know I'm on my way over, I head out the door.

The drive to Rose's flat only takes fifteen minutes thanks to traffic being light at this time of day. I park, then sit frozen in place. I thought she would notice my second text but she hasn't opened it and I feel unsure about barging into her space even if it's with good intentions. I could leave but there's nothing to stop her seeing my message later and then wondering why I never showed up. Sighing, I release my grip on the steering wheel. I've left myself with only one option. If she doesn't want me here, I'll just drop off the stuff and go.

I ring the buzzer, shifting nervously from foot to foot as I wait for Rose to answer. A couple of minutes pass with no response and I decide to try one more time before leaving.

"Hello?" Rose's voice sounds over the intercom, thick with sleep.

"Hi, it's me. Phillip," I add realising the buzzer system is audio only meaning Rose can't see who ‘me' is. "I brought you soup." Smooth man . I can practically hear what Blakes' commentary on this situation would be.

"Oh, um OK. Come on up," Rose replies, still sounding pretty out of it. The door unlocks with a loud buzz and I make my way inside and up the stairs to find Rose slumped against her doorframe, looking as though a light breeze would knock her down. Guilt gnaws at me for bothering her, but hopefully the soup will make up for it.

"Hey, come in." She greets me with a wan smile, moving aside to let me in. My returning smile is tight when I notice she's still resting a hand on the wall for support. This is not the version of Rose I'm used to. Neither the walled-off woman from when we first met or the soft-hearted, playful woman I've come to know, this version is too exhausted to put up any kind of a front and I feel as though I'm being given a look behind the curtain that I'm not sure I deserve. She could have sent me away. Instead, she's chosen to allow me to see her in her most vulnerable state. The trust she's offering me makes me feel grimy knowing I'm keeping something important from her. I'd been resolved to tell her all about the art show today but there's no way I can bring it up now when she's feeling so awful.

Rose leads me inside, shuffling down the short hallway before turning right into the open plan kitchen and living space. Practically falling into one of the kitchen table chairs she gestures for me to take the other. I sit, really taking her in.

She's wearing purple flannel pyjamas covered in frowning cartoon rain clouds, her skin is three shades paler than her usual ivory, and her hair is gathered up in a messy bun. The frowning rainclouds are so her , I smile despite myself.

Wetting her lips nervously she asks, "What are you doing here?" She doesn't sound upset, just confused. I'll take it.

"I might have been a little worried when you didn't reply to my text earlier," I admit sheepishly. "Not that you have to answer all my messages but you said you were ill and I want to help. I thought maybe you could use some soup." I lift the cool bag. "If I've overstepped I can just leave it in your fridge?—"

"No," she interrupts and shakes her head as if clearing a fog. "Sorry, I'm just surprised and I feel pretty out of it. That's really thoughtful of you, thanks."

Pulling my bag onto my lap I lay my other offerings on the table.

"I brought painkillers and a heat pack too. You probably have this stuff already but I figured it couldn't hurt to have some spare," I explain with a shrug.

"You thought of everything." Rose's tired smile tugs at my heart.

"Would you like some soup now? I can heat it up for you."

"Thanks, but I'm too tired to feel hungry right now. I'll make sure to eat it later though," she assures me, eyelids drooping showing the truth in her words. If I keep her up much longer, she'll fall asleep right at the table.

"Alright, I'll let you rest. Do you need help getting back to bed?" Our short conversation has obviously drained what little energy she had judging by the way she's slumped in her chair. She was already unsteady on her feet when I first arrived, I don't want her falling over with nobody here to help her. Apparently Aria has meetings with schools about the Lost in the Woods show for most of the day. Rose assures me her friend will be home in a few hours but that seems like a long time to leave her alone like this.

"Help would be nice," Rose admits, refusing to meet my eyes.

"Hey." Gently tilting her chin up with my thumb, I wait until she looks at me. "Please don't feel embarrassed. I volunteered, remember?" I hold her gaze until she nods.

"OK."

Rose stands up carefully, using the table for balance. I'm at her side immediately offering my arm for support. She's cold to the touch and I want to get her back under her blankets as soon as possible.

Rose leans into my side, my arm loosely round her waist just in case she stumbles, as we make our way to her bedroom. It's a decent size with plain white walls and delicate touches that add a softness to the space—the blush curtains hanging half closed at her window, the array of throw cushions that usually decorate the bed but are currently scattered on the floor. Previously I've been too distracted to notice, but as I help Rose to the bed it strikes me as odd for an artist to have such plain walls. The paintings she showed me before are hidden away again, so the only thing indicating her profession is a covered easel in one corner. That must be the new piece she's started working on. Her duvet is thrown back in a tangled mess from where she's struggled to get out of bed to answer the door earlier. Rose sits gingerly on the edge of the mattress, then gently lifts her legs up one at a time before lying down carefully. I pull the covers up around her shoulders hiding her cute pyjamas from view.

Before I can pull away Rose lightly places one of her dainty hands over mine.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome." I start to step back but she holds on.

"Could you—" She sighs, shaking her head. "Never mind, it's silly." I miss the weight of her hand on mine when she pulls away. Was she going to ask me to stay? I clear my throat hoping I'm not reading this wrong.

"Would you like me to stay for a while? At least until Aria gets home?"

"You want to stay?" she asks, surprised.

"Of course. But only if you want me here." Her eyes grow glossy with unshed tears and I worry I've read this all wrong. Before I can put my foot any further in my mouth, she reaches out beside her, patting the top of her duvet.

"I'd like that. Come sit with me." Relief sweeps through me that I won't have to leave her alone like this. I would have respected her boundaries if she wanted me to go but I'm sure as hell glad to be able to keep an eye on her. I bend down to unlace my boots before kicking them off and settling next to her on top of the covers.

"Is there anything else I can do?" Seeing her like this, I feel helpless. At least she doesn't seem to be struggling quite so much now she's lying down again, though I don't think she'll stay awake for much longer.

"You're doing it." She smiles weakly. "Just you being here helps. It's nice not to be alone." Something occurs to me and I have to ask.

"Before, when you talked about your parents, you said they didn't believe you. Did they leave you alone like this when you were younger?"

"It wasn't until I started uni that things got this bad. When I was a teenager I started having problems with my joints and they were sympathetic, but when doctors said I was fine that was it in their minds." She sighs in resignation. "You know it took me years to get a diagnosis? It's not uncommon. For so long I told doctors something was wrong only to have them say it was all in my head. Just anxiety." She stares up at the ceiling, her usually bright jade eyes dull, brows pinched like she's looking into the past. "When someone finally bothered to order basic blood tests they came back clear and instead of looking further they insisted I was fine. Again. It took years before I found a doctor who took my concerns seriously enough to refer me to a specialist. Even then I had to wait eight months for my first appointment with a rheumatologist." Her voice is thick with emotion as she continues. "But it was worth it. Because after all of that waiting, after years of knowing something wasn't right and being dismissed over and over again, I finally had my answer. It was such a relief. Even finding out that all of this would never go away, that it was something I would have to learn to manage… Having a name to put to it all—hypermobility with chronic pain and fatigue—changed everything." She smiles but it's full of sadness.

"When enough people tell you something is all in your head for long enough you start to doubt yourself. I felt like I was losing my mind at times but Aria helped keep me sane those last few years. It felt so good to be able to tell my parents when I finally got my diagnosis. Things had become strained between us when I kept insisting something was wrong even though they couldn't see it. They told me I was being dramatic. I thought having a name for what was going on would help us fix things but they refuse to learn more about any of it."

"I'm sorry." It's not enough. I want to make everyone that made Rose doubt herself pay but I know that's impossible. She sighs wearily.

"This is why I didn't want you to see me like this yet. I don't want you to feel sorry for me. I have a good life. This," she gestures down at herself, "is just one part of it. Sure, it's caused a few more hurdles than I expected when I was growing up but I've accepted that. If we're going to have any sort of a future, I need you to accept it too."

I'm gobsmacked. Rose has been through so much. I can't believe her parents called her dramatic . It makes me furious on her behalf that she's so prepared for me to have a negative response when faced with the harsh reality of her conditions, but righteous anger is not what she needs from me right now.

"I don't feel sorry for you but I am sorry for what you've been through. You deserve so much better than that."

"Thank you." She squeezes my hand gently. "And I'm sorry for getting so defensive. It's still a touchy subject, I guess. Sometimes when people find out about my health stuff they assume it means I can't do anything. While others, like my parents, think I look fine and assume I should still be able to do everything. I just don't want you to see me at my worst and start second-guessing me."

"I won't. I promise, Rose. I can't say I won't check in on you sometimes, but that's not because I think you're any less capable. It's just how I show I care. And I do care about you, Rose. A lot."

She smiles softly. "I think I can live with that."

"One more thing."

She raises a brow at my firm tone. "What's that?"

"If there's anything I can do or help with to make your life easier or more comfortable I'm going to do it. I know you don't need me swooping in to save you, but I also know you won't ask for help unless you've hit your limit. Let me help with some of the little things so you can focus on those big dreams of yours."

"I'll work on not insisting on doing every little thing myself. It's hard though. My parents made me feel like such a burden, Malcolm too. I've been doing a lot to unpack all of that but it's not going to happen overnight. Can you live with that ?"

"Absolutely." I gently pull her into my arms where she belongs. "We'll figure this out together."

"Everything is happening so fast, with us I mean. It's a little overwhelming," she admits softly. My heart sinks.

Trying to hide how much the thought pains me, I ask, "Do you need us to slow down?"

"No," she rushes to reassure me and it feels like a ten-ton weight has been lifted off my chest. "I just wasn't expecting this, you mean so much to me already. I don't want to mess anything up before we even really get started."

"Hey." I tilt her chin up, eyes locking with hers. "You're not messing anything up," I reassure her firmly. "I know this is all happening pretty fast, I didn't expect this to happen either but I know what I want for us."

"Tell me?"

"I want us to keep spending time together outside of the set project. I want to learn all there is to know about you because everything I learn makes me fall for you even more. I want to be the one who looks after you when you have a flare-up, not because you need me but because you want me there. And I want to introduce you to my family, to the people who mean the most to me because you're becoming one of those people too. But right now? I just want to hold you, if that's alright with you?"

"It's more than alright." She burrows closer to my side and my heart swells with something dangerously close to love. "You can watch TV if you want."

Her slightly slurred words draw my attention to the half open laptop at the end of the bed. When I bring the screen to life, I see she's been watching our crime drama and smile.

"Are you watching or sleeping?" Looking down at her burrowed under the covers I think I have my answer. I've kept her awake for too long.

"I'll watch for a minute but you can carry on without me. Just tell me all your theories when I wake up." Even as Rose shifts to get a better look at the screen it's obvious she won't last long. I start the next episode anyway knowing she's only trying to stay awake for my benefit. Sure enough, by the time the opening credits finish her eyes have drifted closed and her chest is rising and falling in the gentle rhythm of sleep.

The chatter of the TV programme fades into the background, my thoughts shifting to the woman lying next to me. The last time I saw anyone look so damn tired was when my brother first brought Toby home. Eric had been exhausted but at least he knew the sleepless nights would eventually end, that it was just a stage they needed to get through.

After Rose first confided in me about her health conditions, I did some research online to find out more about what it all meant. Turns out the challenges presented by the conditions can vary quite widely from person to person but one thing was clear: for Rose, there was no end in sight. Only good days or bad days, and it seems like the bad days can crop up with little to no warning. In all honesty I don't know if I could be as accepting of it all if I was in her shoes. Then again, I guess she had little choice but to accept it. Nobody wants to go through life angry about something they can't change.

Rose shifts closer in her sleep, her arm looping over my waist, and my chest squeezes. Her sweet honey-vanilla scent wafts over me and it's such a contrast to her sharp tongue that it makes me smile. I know Rose was doing just fine before I came along but still, we all need support sometimes and, more than anything, I want to be the person Rose chooses to lean on. It's obvious she doesn't like asking for help but, looking down at her curled against my side, I don't think there's anything she could ask me for that I wouldn't give her.