chapter 145
Elena's POV:
I watched Alfred's retreating figure disappear down the hallway, the weight of Nicholas's invitation settling into my thoughts like a stone dropping into still water. Three days.
The idea of getting dressed up, of smiling and making conversation when I could barely waddle from room to room without wincing—it felt overwhelming.
But Nicholas had been nothing but kind to us, especially after everything with his mother. He'd even made time to attend my birthday party despite his busy schedule, bringing that thoughtful gift and staying late into the evening.
And Rose... I'd grown genuinely fond of her in these past months, our friendship deepening with each visit.
I made my way slowly back to our bedroom, each step a careful negotiation with gravity and my shifted center of balance. The morning sun filtered through the curtains, casting long shadows across the hardwood floor.
I'd barely settled back against the pillows when Sebastian entered, his expression thoughtful. He crossed to my side of the bed immediately, sitting on the edge as his hand found mine.
"Alfred just told me Nicholas sent an invitation for his birthday gathering," he said, his thumb tracing gentle circles on my wrist. "It's in three days."
"Yes," I said, trying to gauge his thoughts on it. "His birthday is coming up already."
Sebastian studied my face, taking in what I knew must be obvious exhaustion. "If you're not up for it, we don't have to go. Nicholas will understand."
"Maybe you could go alone?" I suggested.
Before Sebastian could respond, his phone rang. He glanced at the screen, frowning slightly. "It's Nicholas."
"Answer it," I said, curious about the timing.
Sebastian put the call on speaker. "Nicholas."
"Sebastian, perfect timing." Nicholas's voice filled the study, that particular brand of casual confidence that seemed bred into men of his circle. "Listen, I need to ask Elena something. Is she around?"
"I'm here," I said, leaning forward slightly.
"Elena, wonderful. I have a rather delicate favor to ask." There was an unusual note in his voice—something almost approaching nervousness. "I was hoping you might help me with something regarding Rose."
I exchanged a glance with Sebastian. "What kind of help?"
"Well," Nicholas cleared his throat. "I was hoping you might come to my birthday gathering. The truth is... I'd very much like Rose to attend as well, with Lily of course. But she's been... resistant to my invitations lately. I thought perhaps if you were there, as her friend, she might be more inclined to accept. She's more likely to come if she knows you'll be present."
The vulnerability in his request was unmistakable. Here was Nicholas Morrison—who could buy half the city without blinking—reduced to scheming like a schoolboy to spend time with the woman he loved.
"Nicholas," I said gently, "have you considered just telling her how you feel? Directly?"
A bitter laugh came through the phone. "We're past that point, I'm afraid. Too much history. Too much... damage." He paused. "Will you help me?"
My hand drifted to my belly, feeling the baby shift beneath my palm. The plea in his voice, that raw vulnerability from someone usually so composed—how could I refuse?
I thought of Rose, of the careful way she spoke about Nicholas, the flash of pain that crossed her face whenever his name came up. They were both so clearly miserable apart, yet too proud or too hurt to bridge the gap themselves.
"All right," I said softly. "I'll help."
"I'll try to invite her," I said finally. "But Nicholas, I won't trick her or pressure her. If she doesn't want to come—"
"Of course not," he interrupted quickly. "I would never ask that of you. Just... mention it? That's all I ask."
After we ended the call, Sebastian studied me with those dark eyes that seemed to see straight through me. "You're going to do more than just mention it."
It wasn't a question. I smiled despite myself. "Rose deserves to be happy. So does Nicholas. Sometimes people need a little push."
"My meddling wife," he murmured, but there was warm affection in his voice.
He pressed a kiss to my forehead. "All right. But if you're playing matchmaker, you're not doing it alone. I'll have Alfred arrange for Rose to come here tomorrow afternoon."
---
The next day, I found myself oddly nervous as I waited for Rose in the small sun room we'd converted into an informal sitting area.
I'd asked the kitchen to prepare her favorite tea—Earl Grey with lavender—and the delicate butter cookies she'd mentioned loving as a child.
When she arrived, I was struck as always by how composed she appeared, that particular grace that seemed to come naturally to her. But I'd learned to read the subtle signs of strain—the faint shadows under her eyes, the way her smile didn't quite reach as deep as it used to.
"Elena," she greeted warmly, settling into the chair across from me. Her medical bag was absent today; this was a social visit, not a professional one. "How are you feeling? You're looking well."
"Like I'm smuggling a football team," I admitted, running my hand over my belly. "Sometimes I wonder if there are actually twins in there and everyone just forgot to mention it."
Rose laughed, a genuine sound that eased some of the tension I'd been carrying. "Single babies can feel that way in the final weeks. Your body is doing exactly what it should."
We chatted easily about mundane things—the weather (unseasonably warm), her daughter's latest school project (a diorama of the solar system that had taken over their dining table), the new lavender blend I was working on for my next collection.
"Speaking of Lily," I said, trying to sound casual, "do you have any plans this weekend?"
Rose shook her head. "No, nothing special. Why do you ask?"
"Well, Nicholas is having a birthday party on Saturday. I was thinking Lily might enjoy it—you know how children love those kinds of gatherings. There'll be other kids there, games, probably far too much cake..."
Rose's expression shifted, a knowing look crossing her face. "Did Nicholas ask you to invite me?"