Page 73 of Kiss From A Rose

"There are two kinds of people who don't have sex," I indulged Malou because I loved seeing her zest for life. "One's parents and one's children. Period."

"And in the meantime, everyone is fuckin' around." Malou closed her eyes then, and I knew she was going to fall asleep any second.

I was about to pick her up and carry her in, when I heard her faint voice, "I'm glad y'all are here. It's good to have family."

She thought of us as a family because we were Rose's. Such unconditional acceptance was not something I was familiar with. Bonnie didn't care that Rose was my wife; she still disliked her and didn't care to hide it. My parents didn't accept Rose until their dying day. Here was Malou, who we'd shunned; hell, she hadn't been allowed to come to Rose's wedding—and she accepted us fully and with an open heart.

That sentiment wasn't lost on Willow, who followed me when I took Malou back into her room. Rose joined us when she saw us.

"She got tired?" Rose murmured as she made space on Malou's bed so I could put her down.

Once I did, Rose removed Malou’s Ugg boots and tucked her under the comforter. She stroked her cheek as Willow and I watched.

"I wish I could do more for her," she whispered. "More to make her comfortable. I just…."

"Babe, don't get angry," I said, and she flashed concerned eyes at me. I sighed. She was always expecting the worst from me, and I was doing the same fucking thing, expecting her to lose her shit with me all the time. This needed to stop. "I hired a nurse for Malou. He's experienced with…ah…patients like her. He'll make sure that she gets her injections at home, so we don't have to take her to the clinic and—"

Rose ran to me and leaped into my arms. I barely caught her and myself before falling. She kissed my mouth. "Thank you. Thank you. Thank you."

"Fuck, Rose, it's the least I can do." I wrapped my arms around her. I didn't care why she was in my arms; I was grateful that she was. And she felt damn good.

"No" —she shook her head, and tears streamed down her cheeks— "you don't have to do anything for her. She's nobody to you."

"She's family, Mama," Willow said and joined our three-way hug.

Mike, Edgar, and I spent the morning prepping the retaining wall and putting in temporary supports. After I took a shower, I came downstairs to the smells of food and cooking. In the past, while Rose cooked, Willow, Jude, and I would do our own thing. Rose would be alone making a meal for us—making our holiday while we'd not only not contribute; we wouldn't even keep her company.

This was not how it used to be. When they were little, they hung around the kitchen with her, and so did I. As they got older, they were more drawn to me. It all happened so slowly and organically that I never even noticed that we'd left Rosealone.

Not this Christmas and never ever again!

The kitchen of Angel's Rest B&B was a flurry of activity, filled with the rich aromas of Christmas dinner in the making and the sound of laughter echoing off the walls.

Rose was at the stove, managing a pot that simmered with what promised to be a delicious gravy.

Jude and Willow were teamed up at the kitchen island, chopping vegetables and teasing each other as only siblings can. Mike, Willow's boyfriend, sat at the kitchen island with a glass of wine in hand. Mike was not a cook, according to Willow, andshould not be let anywhere near food because he was likely to poison everyone.

I leaned down and brushed my lips across Rose's cheek. I was taking liberties until she stopped me. When I saw her smile and a flush rise up her face, I felt like God had given me a gift.

"How can I help?" I murmured.

She was flustered and looked around at the kids who were watching us. Willow gave me an understanding smile, and Jude looked like he was about to burst into tears. I knew he blamed himself for Rose walking away, and even though I'd told him and explained to him how the fault lay with me, he couldn't help but carry the burden. This wasn't a bad thing. It was good that he took responsibility for his behavior, which made me certain that he'd always be more careful with people.

I had been honest when I told Rose that she was the center of our family. Without her, regardless of how we treated her, we were lost and confused. Her calming presence permeated our lives, and I had been foolish not to take care of her.

"You can peel the potatoes." Rose pointed to a bag by the sink.

I stood at the counter, peeling potatoes, stealing glances at my family working together, a scene so warm and lively it filled the room with an unmistakable feeling of home.

I watched as Jude accidentally dropped a carrot, and Willow teased him mercilessly, their laughter infectious—like they were children again, carefree, and happy as only kids could be. Rose caught my eye and smiled, a genuine, heartfelt smile that reached deep within me, stirring both joy and a poignant touch of regret.

It hit me then how much we had lost by not doing this together over the past few years. Rose had always been the anchor, keeping our family traditions alive, while I, buried in work, had missed out on these simple, beautiful moments of togetherness.

Watching Rose now—animated, engaged, and surrounded by our children, fully part of their camaraderie—I felt a deep regret for all the times we’d failed to give her this kind of joy.

"Need a hand with those potatoes, Dad?" Jude's voice broke through my thoughts, and I handed him a peeler, grateful for the chance to be included, to be here now when it mattered.

"Yeah, thanks, son."

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