Nothing Will Change

Season 2 - The End

He hadn't asked her yet. Rose wondered how long he'd wait. She thought he'd ask her right away, right there in the mud, but he hadn't. What was he waiting for? At her farm where it was perfect, sipping tea over breakfast she made for them both. He could slip the question, before they even finish toast, and she'd shout yes because of course she would. But he hadn't, and they finished breakfast and cleaned up together. Cleaned her white dishes that had cracks from age. Were they cracking? Was that why he hadn't asked yet? His sleeves rolled up, not even wearing his waistcoat. Not even wearing his hat. He was bare and ready for it, and yet he didn't.

There was something off. Something wrong. He had something to say, something he was keeping inside. And it was aggravating, watching him debate when he should tell her, if he should. But why did whatever was concerning stop him from asking the question? She'd lie up at night seeing if he'd say it in his sleep, but he was stoic even in his dreams. And then another day came, and they hardly talked about what happened, how they both escaped death. How that was his second time escaping death. His blue eyes were duller though, and with each event she was sure they were going gray.

Sitting in the afternoon sun that was coming through the windows, Rose watched Tommy rub his hands together. He didn't smoke inside, he made a point to go outside whenever he felt the urge. She told him he was fine inside but he kept saying profusely that he wouldn't. He'd ruin the smell already there, which was wrong as she craved his smell everywhere. But he always would step outside, just after he rubbed his hands together. Though as he did he just shuffled closer to her, and what was on his mind spilled out.

"I have to tell you something."

"Mm I thought so," she smiled and put her book down, twisting to face him.

He didn't meet her smile, "Grace was at the races..."

So she did see her, in the pink and white. She didn't almost forgive a stranger, it was her. Though that couldn't be what kept his face confused, that couldn't be what kept him from asking.

"I knew I saw her, didn't say anything though. I didn't know it was her," she shrugged.

"She's pregnant Rose..."

Her eyes fixed on him then, because her answers were between words and behind fixtures. When he didn't say anything her face dropped.

"It's yours."

"That's what she told her husband."

She didn't blink, "and is it?"

"No."

She stood up, squeezing her hands at her sides instead of breathing. Crossing the room to the window, she stared out because he wasn't done and she wasn't sure she could look at him. Were her letters made from flower petals and that was why Tommy never seemed to be able to throw her away? Was she just a fool in love? Was she just sweets he craved all the time but would choose to give up?

"Then why did she tell her husband that?" She looked over her shoulder at him.

He ran his hands down his trousers as he stood up to join her. His jaw clenched, readying her with whatever would make it bad. The stench of cigarettes and the whiskey they shared was overbearing and sickly. It wasn't his smell it was a gangster's smell.

"Her husband's a Changretta," he said like that meant something to her, "we've been civil with the Changrettas for quite some time now... But Grace told them she cheated on her husband with me. I don't want to be starting a war with the Changrettas, but we have to make them believe..."

"Believe what? That it is your baby? Why not tell the truth and let her deal with the consequences?"

"Rose?"