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Baby Cole had been the third body delivered to the funeral home.
Baby Cole had broken my heart.
Mrs. Cruise and Mrs. Ked had been relatively straightforward to prepare for burial, their deaths expected and their arrangements planned in advance. But baby Cole... that had been a different story altogether.
I couldn’t shake the image of his parents’ grief-stricken faces, their anguish palpable in the air.
It was so hard, and it just made me feel that life was not fair.
Death was a part of life, but I always hated the ones where the babies and kids didn’t get to live the lives they weren’t meant for.
A knock sounded on the front door. I groaned inwardly, unwilling to face any more disruptions to my already shitty past days. But the knocking persisted, each rap echoing through the quiet of my duplex.
Reluctantly, I dragged myself off the bed, my exhaustion weighing heavily on my shoulders. My feet shuffled across the floor, and another knock sounded louder this time, and I let out a frustrated sigh. Whoever it was, they weren’t going to give up easily.
I peeked through the peephole, and I was surprised to see Rocco standing on the other side, a bottle of vodka in one hand and a sack of fast food in the other. My irritation softened slightly at the sight of him, though I couldn’t help but wonder what he was doing here.
“If you’re here to tell me there is another body, I quit,” I called through the door, my voice thick with exhaustion.
Rocco shook his head, a rueful smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Not tonight, Dorothy. I just didn’t want to eat alone.”
I eyed the bottle of vodka and the sack of food warily, my stomach grumbling in anticipation. “What’s in the bag?” I asked, unable to hide the curiosity in my voice.
“Mexican,” Rocco replied, holding up the sack for me to see.
Damn, that was my Achilles’ heel. I hesitated for a moment, weighing the temptation of Mexican food against my desire to pass out. In the end, the lure of good food and company won out, and I unlocked the door with a resigned sigh.
“The only reason I’m letting you in is because I’ve got a half bottle of margarita mix in the fridge that needs drinking,” I said, stepping aside to let Rocco enter.
He grinned, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “Duly noted, babe.”
Babe.
That was new but nice.
As Rocco headed to the kitchen, I couldn’t help but feel a pang of gratitude for his unexpected company. Despite the chaos of the past few days, it was comforting to know that I wasn’t completely alone right now.
We worked in silence, setting out plates and silverware and dividing the food between us. The smell of spices and sizzling meat filled the air, making my mouth water in anticipation. I grabbed my plate and glass and followed Rocco into the living room, where he had already settled in front of the TV.
“TV?” he asked, gesturing to the screen.
I nodded, sinking down onto the couch beside him. “Yes, that is a TV.”
“Smart ass,” Rocco chuckled. “Did you want to watch TV?” he clarified.
I grabbed the remote and turned it on. “Anything you want to watch?”
He shook his head and popped a tortilla chip smothered with cheese in his mouth. “Don’t care.”
I put on the first movie that popped up. The silence between us was companionable, and the weight of the day eased with each passing moment.
“You okay?” Rocco asked, breaking the silence.
“Are you?” I countered.
The silence stretched between us, heavy with unspoken words and shared understanding. Despite the challenges we faced, it was comforting to know that we weren’t alone in our struggles.
“Imogen and I do this,” I said suddenly, breaking the silence.
