Chapter 25

The kitchen was a mess. Flour dusted the counters, sugar granules stuck to the wooden surface, and there was a suspicious trail of eggshells leading toward the sink. Jack stood with his arms crossed, staring at the mixing bowl with a look of absolute conviction. Rose, on the other hand, had her hands on her hips, her brows furrowed in deep skepticism.

"Jack, this can't be right. It looks all lumpy!" she exclaimed, eyeing the thick, uneven batter in front of them.

Jack scoffed, grabbing the wooden spoon and stirring with exaggerated confidence. "Then why did Mark's mother teach me this way? Huh?"

"I don't know, but I refuse to believe this is how a cake is supposed to look," Rose shot back, folding her arms.

Jack dipped his finger into the mixture and tasted it, only to immediately wince. He tried to hide his reaction, but Rose caught it.

"Oh, my God." Her jaw dropped. "It's awful, isn't it?"

Jack cleared his throat. "No," he lied. "It's just… different."

Before Rose could retaliate, the kitchen door swung open, and Mary waltzed in, pausing mid-step as she took in the disastrous state of the room. Then she glanced at the mixing bowl and let out a snort of laughter.

"Congratulations," she said dryly, walking over and peering inside. "You've made scrambled eggs."

Rose gasped and turned to Jack, horrified. "I told you something was wrong!"

Jack groaned, rubbing his face. "Okay, fine. Maybe we went a little off course."

"A little?" Mary arched an eyebrow, grabbing the spoon and poking at the lumpy mess. "What did you two even do?"

Jack pointed at Rose. "She insisted on adding more flour."

Rose pointed right back at him. "Because he dumped in too much milk!"

Mary shook her head, suppressing a grin. "Alright, lovebirds, let's start over before you burn the place down." She grabbed a fresh bowl and gestured for them to follow her lead.

Jack sighed dramatically but smiled as he nudged Rose. "See? This is why we need supervision."

Rose rolled her eyes but couldn't help but laugh. "No, you need supervision."

….

Lucinda wiped her mouth with a napkin, leaning back in her chair as she eyed the half-eaten cake in front of her. "I have to admit," she said, a smirk tugging at her lips, "I was worried when I saw you two in the kitchen earlier. I thought you might set the place on fire."

Jack grinned. "That was all Rose. She doesn't trust my baking skills."

Rose scoffed, shaking her head. "Well, considering you almost made scrambled eggs instead of cake, can you blame me?"

Lucinda chuckled, glancing at Mary, who was gathering plates. "Either way, it turned out real nice. Thank you both."

"You can thank Mary for saving it," Rose admitted, smiling at the girl.

Mary, looking pleased with herself, dusted her hands on her apron. "I'll take the credit," she said proudly, before noticing the look Lucinda was giving her. A quiet understanding passed between them. "I'll leave you to it," Mary said, grabbing the dishes and heading toward the kitchen.

The moment the door swung shut, Lucinda's playful expression faded into something more serious. Jack and Rose sat across from Lucinda at the dining table, their faces flushed, though not from the warmth of the evening. Lucinda had her expression stern and her arms crossed. Jack, who usually met everything with a carefree smile, now avoided Lucinda's piercing gaze, while Rose stared at her hands folded in her lap.

Lucinda sighed, tapping her fingers against the tabletop. "Now, I'm not one to meddle in the private lives of grown adults, but when it concerns my establishment, I think I've earned the right to say a few words."

"Lucinda, we're not—" Jack began, his voice uneasy, but she held up a hand to cut him off.

"Don't interrupt me, Jack Dawson," Lucinda snapped. "I know exactly what you two have been sneaking around doing. I'm not blind, and these walls aren't as thick as you think."

Rose's cheeks burned red, and she glanced at Jack for support, but he looked just as mortified.

Lucinda leaned forward, her sharp gaze fixed on Rose. "Let me make this perfectly clear. This is not going to turn into an infant care facility. I'm not running a boarding house for new mothers."

Rose's mouth opened in shock, but no words came out. She wanted to defend herself, to assure Lucinda that she and Jack had been careful, but the intensity of the moment left her frozen.

Lucinda wasn't finished. "If you get knocked up, Rose," she said bluntly, "you're out. I love you like you're my own, but I mean it. There are rules here. Do I make myself clear?"

Rose finally found her voice, though it was small. "Yes, ma'am," she murmured.

Jack sat up straighter, his protective instincts flaring. "Lucinda, come on. Don't you think that's a little harsh? Rose isn't some irresponsible—"

Lucinda's glare silenced him. "Jack, this isn't about me being harsh. It's about being realistic. Life is hard enough as it is, especially for Rose. The last thing she needs is another complication dragging her down."

The room fell into an uncomfortable silence. Rose wanted to cry, not from anger but from embarrassment and the overwhelming weight of Lucinda's words. She wasn't wrong—life was hard. And yet, she couldn't imagine facing it without Jack.

Lucinda softened slightly, her voice gentler now. "I know you two care about each other. It's obvious. But you've both got so much ahead of you. Don't let one careless mistake ruin everything you've worked for."

Jack and Rose exchanged a glance, their shared guilt and affection palpable.

"I understand," Rose said quietly. "And… thank you, Lucinda. For everything."

Lucinda nodded, satisfied for now. "Good. Now go clean up the kitchen. And Jack, if I hear one more creak coming from Rose's room at night, you'll be sleeping in the basement. Got it?"

Jack managed a sheepish grin. "Got it."

As Lucinda left the room, Jack turned to Rose, taking her hand in his. "Hey," he said softly, "don't let her get to you. She just cares, in her own Lucinda kind of way."

Rose nodded, but her heart still felt heavy. "She's right, though. We have to be careful, Jack. People talk easily."

He squeezed her hand. "We will be. I promise."

They sat in the quiet for a moment before Jack leaned closer, brushing a kiss to her temple. "You're worth all of it, Rose. Every bit of it."

She smiled faintly, leaning into his touch, grateful for his reassurance even as the weight of the conversation lingered.

As Lucinda's footsteps faded down the hall, Jack turned to Rose with a sheepish grin. "So... I guess we really do need to be more careful, huh?"

Rose leaned back in her chair, an amused smirk on her lips as she shrugged. "I wouldn't be too worried."

Jack frowned slightly, tilting his head. "What do you mean?"

Rose hesitated for a moment, her fingers tracing a circle on the edge of the table. "The chances of me getting struck by lightning might be bigger than me getting pregnant."

Jack blinked, caught off guard. "What are you talking about?"

She sighed, looking down at her hands. "When I was fifteen, I had a… well, a slight accident. I had to have a small operation afterward, and the doctor told me it could make it difficult—maybe even impossible—for me to have children. And besides," she added with a dry chuckle, "it took my mother years before she fell pregnant with me."

Jack stared at her, a mix of surprise and sympathy flickering across his face. "Why have you never told me that before?"

Rose shrugged again, avoiding his gaze. "Because I worried about it enough back then. And I just… well, I didn't know how to bring it up. But now you know—there might never be a baby, Jack."

For a long moment, neither of them spoke. Jack leaned forward, wrapping his arms around her in a warm, comforting hug. He kissed the top of her head, his voice soft and steady. "Then we'll adopt a dozen animals," he said, his lips curving into a playful smile.

Rose let out a soft laugh, her tension melting away. "You'd be happy with a dozen animals?"

"Absolutely," Jack said, pulling back to meet her eyes. "Dogs, cats, maybe even a goat or two. We'll have the loudest, happiest house on the block."

Rose chuckled, leaning her head against his chest. "But I guess no more love affairs in my room."

Jack pulled back from her, a playful glint in his eye. "Well, if the kitchen's fair game…"

Rose arched a brow. "Jack, what are you—"

Before she could finish, he strode over to the kitchen door, turned the lock with a satisfying click, and tested it to make sure it was secure.

"Jack!" she hissed, half-laughing, half-shocked. "Lucinda will kill us!"

He turned back to her with a mischievous grin, leaning casually against the doorframe. "She didn't say we couldn't use the kitchen. Just that it wasn't a nursery."

Rose rolled her eyes, though she couldn't suppress the laugh bubbling up. "You're incorrigible."

"And you're irresistible," Jack shot back, moving closer.

She crossed her arms, pretending to be stern, though her flushed cheeks gave her away. "We're going to get caught, you know."

"Not if we're quiet," Jack murmured, closing the distance between them.

Rose bit her lip, torn between her better judgment and the thrill of his teasing. When his hands found her waist and his lips brushed her ear, whispering, "Live a little," she gave in with a soft laugh.

"You're impossible," she said again, her voice softer this time.

"And yet, here we are," he teased, before pulling her into a slow, heated kiss.

The rest of the world faded as they lost themselves in each other's embrace, the locked door behind them their only safeguard against Lucinda's inevitable wrath.

The days before Jack's departure slipped through their fingers like sand, and neither of them could stop it. They felt it in the quiet spaces between conversations, in the way they held onto each other just a second longer than necessary. There was no need to voice what was coming; it sat between them like an uninvited guest, lingering in their laughter, their silences, their touches.

They filled their days with small adventures, as if keeping busy could hold time still. They walked through the bustling streets of Los Angeles, stopping to watch street performers or peek into shop windows, but always ending up somewhere quieter—at the beach, on the cliffs, or beneath the shade of a willow tree in the park.

One afternoon, they found themselves on a small, rocky hill that overlooked the ocean. The wind carried the scent of salt and warmth, ruffling Jack's hair as he leaned back on his hands, watching the waves. Rose sat beside him, hugging her knees to her chest, gazing out at the endless blue.

"I used to come here sometimes," Jack said eventually, his voice quieter than before. "Back when I was just another broke artist trying to make something of himself."

Rose turned to look at him. "Did it help?"

Jack let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head slightly. "I don't know. But it made me feel small, in a good way. Like no matter how lost I felt, the world would keep moving. Like there was still time to figure things out."

Rose exhaled slowly, her gaze drifting back to the waves. "And do you feel lost now?"

Jack hesitated, glancing at her. "Not when I'm with you."

She smiled faintly, but the weight of the approaching goodbye pressed against her chest. They were running out of time, and they both knew it.

After a moment, Rose rested her head against his shoulder. "I wish Maureen was here with us," she murmured.

Jack nodded, a wistful look crossing his face. "Yeah. She would've loved this."

They both grew quiet, lost in the ache of remembering. Maureen had been their friend in different ways—Jack's wild, daring companion from home, and Rose's unexpected confidante aboard the Titanic. The thought of her brought a mixture of warmth and sorrow, as if she should have been there, sitting beside them, laughing at the way Jack's hair was sticking up from the wind or teasing Rose about how she could still look like a lady even while sitting on a rock.

"She'd probably have a cigarette in one hand and a drink in the other," Jack said with a soft chuckle. "Saying something inappropriate just to make you blush."

Rose smiled, closing her eyes for a moment as if she could will the memory into reality. "And she'd tell us we were both being fools for making this so hard."

Jack let out a slow breath. "She always saw things clearer than we did, didn't she?"

"She did."

Rose lifted her head to look at him, her green eyes full of something deep and unspoken. "I still think about the night she found me on the ship. I didn't know it then, but that was the night I realized I had a choice. That I could choose to walk away from my old life."

Jack studied her face, reaching out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "And you did. You chose yourself, Rose."

"I chose us," she corrected softly.

Jack swallowed hard, glancing away for a second as if he couldn't bear the weight of her gaze. When he looked back, he reached for her hand, lacing their fingers together.

"Maureen would be proud of you," he said. "Of both of us."

Rose squeezed his hand, nodding. "She would."

For a while, they simply sat there, hand in hand, listening to the waves. The sun had begun its slow descent, casting everything in a golden hue.

…..

Rose helped Jack load his bags into the carriage, her fingers lingering on the worn leather of his satchel as if touching it would somehow make him stay. The morning air was crisp, carrying the distant sounds of the waking city, but to her, the world felt muted, as though everything had slowed down just for them.

"You sure you don't want me to come with you to the train station?" she asked softly, trying to keep her voice steady.

Jack turned to her, his gaze warm but tinged with sadness. He reached out and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, his fingers barely brushing her cheek. "They can't miss you here. I'll be fine."

Rose leaned into his touch, closing her eyes for a fleeting moment, memorizing the feel of his skin against hers. The silence between them was heavy, thick with the things they weren't saying.

Jack shifted, breaking the moment with a quiet sigh. "You know, if you change your mind and do want to come, know I'll be able to work it out for us."

Rose felt her breath hitch, her heart battling against the choice she had already made. She wanted nothing more than to go with him, to leave everything behind and start anew. But she knew she couldn't—not yet.

"I know," she whispered. "You have no idea how much I want to jump into this carriage with you, but I can't. My past lingers there, and it's still too fresh to walk around the streets of my youth as someone else."

Jack searched her face, and for a second, she saw the pain in his eyes—the same pain she felt in every part of her body. But then he nodded, giving her a small, understanding smile.

"I understand."

Rose swallowed hard, trying to force a smile of her own. "You have to promise me you won't run into my mother." She tried to joke, but the words trembled slightly.

Jack chuckled softly, but instead of responding, he pulled her into a kiss—deep and lingering, as if trying to pour every word left unsaid into it. When they finally parted, he rested his forehead against hers.

"I'll write to you as soon as I'm settled," he murmured.

Rose nodded, biting her lip to keep the tears at bay.

Jack kissed her one last time before stepping up into the carriage. He turned back, his hand gripping the edge of the door, his eyes never leaving hers.

As Rose stood there, watching the carriage disappear into the distance, her composure cracked like fragile glass. A sob escaped her lips before she could stop it, her hands trembling as they clutched at the fabric of her dress.

This time was different. This wasn't like before, when she had been left with the hope of a reunion just months away. No, this time, as long as Jack stayed in Philadelphia, she knew they wouldn't see each other.

It was going to be a very long time.

Her knees nearly gave out beneath her as the weight of it all pressed against her chest, suffocating and unrelenting. She wrapped her arms around herself, as if that could hold in the ache that was threatening to consume her whole.

She felt Lucinda's steady presence beside her before she even spoke. "Come inside, sweetheart," she murmured, her voice gentle but firm.

But Rose couldn't move. She shook her head, her throat tight. "It wasn't supposed to feel like this," she choked out. "We knew this day was coming, we promised we wouldn't make it heavy."

Lucinda sighed, placing a warm hand on Rose's back. "Goodbyes always feel heavier when they're real."

Rose sucked in a sharp breath, wiping at her damp cheeks with the back of her hand. But it was no use—the tears wouldn't stop, wouldn't slow. She could almost feel her heart breaking, piece by piece, as though Jack had taken it with him when he stepped into that carriage.

She had thought she was prepared. But nothing could have prepared her for this.

Lucinda's hand rubbed slow, comforting circles against her back. "He loves you," she reminded her. "And you love him. That doesn't just disappear."

"I know," Rose whispered. "But knowing it doesn't make it hurt any less."

For a long time, she just stood there, staring at the empty road, as though if she looked hard enough, she could will him to turn around. But he wouldn't. And she wouldn't chase after him.

They had made their choices. And now, they had to live with them.

Finally, Lucinda squeezed her shoulder. "Come on, darling. Let's get you inside."

Rose inhaled shakily, nodding. But as she let Lucinda lead her back toward the inn, she couldn't shake the feeling that something had shifted between them. That this farewell was different. That this time, she wasn't just letting him go—she was losing him.

And that terrified her more than anything.