Sweet Rome (Sweet Home) (30 page)

“Okay, you two, let’s meet your baby,” Dr. Adams said excitedly.

When the time came for the sonogram, I swear I’d never been more nervous for anything in my life. The doc inserted a long camera-looking thing inside my girl and she gripped onto my hand, squeezing it like a vise as I pressed kisses along her fingers.

When a tiny picture appeared on the screen beside Molly’s head, all the breath left my body. I felt Molly stiffen and once again tighten her grip on my hand, but I couldn’t speak. I don’t know what the hell happened in that moment, but the stark realization that what I was looking at was a baby my girl and I created was life changing.

I loved Molly more than anything and often wondered if anything else in my life would ever come close to how I felt for her, but seeing our baby, hearing its tiny heartbeat, I realized I could love another in an entirely different way. The man who never thought he would ever love anyone, was incapable of such an emotion, right here in this room held the hand of the woman who’d not only opened his eyes and heart, but was also gifting him with the perfect unison of us both: a child.

Feeling wetness on my cheek, I realized I was crying, and for the first time ever, it was in happiness.

“Everything looks great and it measures as though you are… about… ah… about eight weeks along,” Dr. Adams said, interrupting my fixation on the screen.

Seven months. In seven months we would have a little one of our own.

Dr. Adams passed Molly a picture of the sonogram, and standing up, I kissed her head, watching her staring, disbelieving, at our little angel. Turning to me, she smiled and placed the Polaroid on the bed beside her. She got that I was spellbound by everything happening lately, and as always, she put me first, knowing I needed to see that picture. It was the security that my life was now infinitely better.

“You can get dressed now, Molly, and we’ll see you again in about two months unless you experience any of the problems we discussed. If so, you need to come straight back.”
High blood pressure, dizziness, extreme swelling, severe headaches, abdominal pain, blurred vision…
Fuck me, the list seemed endless. I knew I’d become an overbearing dick, but shit, there was no way I was losing the two most precious things in my life. I’d never forgive myself if I did.

“Can we find out the sex, then?” Molly asked quietly.

“Hopefully,” the doctor replied and slapped my back, forcing me to look up from the tiny image of our baby. “Congratulations, son, I’ll see you at the championship in Georgia and
Roll Tide
!”

“Roll Tide,” I croaked out.

Dr. Adams left, and Molly put the picture in my hand before shuffling to get off the bed.

As I watched her contented face, a small, happy smile still there on her lips, I just needed to hold her. Picking her up in my arms, I crushed her to my chest, just breathing in her vanilla scent.

“Romeo what—” she asked.

“Thank you, Mol. Just… thank you…” I said and, wrapping her hands around my neck in response, she whispered, “Thank you, too.”

An hour later, we were back in Molly’s room and I ran her a bath. I took advantage of the time alone and went back out to my truck, retrieving the gift, and laid the white box on the bed.

A short while later, the bathroom door creaked open and Molly came out in my favorite purple nightdress. She looked beautiful with her long, wet hair hanging low and her glasses firmly on her nose. She frowned when she caught sight of the box.

“What’s that?”

“A present,” I answered proudly. Molly eyed me skeptically and moved to the bed, sitting down beside me.

“What is it?” she asked, running her finger over the lid.

“Open it.”

Shaking her head and giggling, she opened the box slowly, so delicately that I felt like ripping it open for her. My heart sank when I realized she probably hadn’t been given gifts too often, and I made a mental note to rectify that fact.

Peeling back the white tissue paper, her hand went to her mouth. “Rome…”

“What do you think?” I asked, seeing the tears in her eyes.

She loved it.

Lifting the tiny Tide jersey from the box, she studied the front, then turned it around, whispering, “Prince, number seven.”

“I know it’s apparently bad luck before the end of the first trimester to buy things, you know, because things are still fragile, but I thought one small gift wouldn’t hurt.”

Pressing the tiny crimson jersey to her chest, she looked up at me and crawled forward, leaning down and kissing me softly on my lips.

Breaking away and studying the jersey once more, she looked me dead in the eyes and whispered, “We’re going to be parents, Rome…”

Smiling, I tackled her gently to the bed, tapping her nose. “Damn good ones too… and I can’t fuckin’ wait.”

Losing her smile, she stared down at the bed and asked, “Seattle?”

My heart faltered. “Maybe.” Lifting her chin with my finger, I said, “Hey, look at me.” She did as I asked and I said, “You’re used to rain, right, you know, being from England?”

Cracking a smile, she blushed, saying, “Romeo Prince, are you asking me to come to Seattle with you?”

“I’m asking you to come with me wherever I get drafted. It’s you and me, baby.”

Tilting her head, she corrected, “No, it’s you, me,
and
our angel.”

Raising my eyebrow, I joked, “The Shakespeare/Prince Trifecta?”

Laughing loudly, she agreed, “The Shakespeare/Prince Trifecta.”

Shuffling to Molly’s stomach, I whispered, “You hear that, angel? You’ve officially made the coolest gang in all ’a Bama!”

Molly giggled as I moved back to share her pillow. Her eyes closed for a moment and she ran her fingertips up and down my bare bicep.

“What you thinking, baby?”

Snapping her attention to me, she sighed happily. “I just can’t wait to see our tiny bundle in your arms.”

My heart felt like it jumped to my throat in excitement and, without saying a single word in response, I crushed my girl into my chest.

I couldn’t wait for that either.

26

“One more, Rome, one more!”

My arms shook with the strain as I bench-pressed the three-hundred-pound weight, sweat dripping into my eyes, and with one final push, I let out a grunt as I locked my elbows straight and Austin took the barbell from my hands, placing it back on the rack.

“Rome!” he shouted in reaction to my new PB, shaking my shoulders.

I stood up. Austin threw me my towel and said, “You pumped or what? I thought you were gonna give yourself a friggin’ coronary!”

Reaching down for my water, I glanced over to Chris Porter, who’d been staring at me on and off all session with a shit-eating grin on his damn ugly face.

Jimmy-Don walked over from Porter’s little posse, shaking his head, prompting me to ask, “What the fuck’s up with him?”

“He’s with Shelly Blair and won’t shut the hell up over it.”

That stilled me. “
He’s
with Shel?”

“Apparently,” Jimmy-Don said in disbelief.

“Then why the fuck is he glaring at me all the time? I was starting to think he was into me.”

“Just let it go, Rome,” Austin said, slapping my back. “He’s a douche, no more explanation needed.”

“Let what go?” I asked, suspicion creeping into my veins.

I watched Austin glance at Jimmy-Don and shake his head—way to be inconspicuous.

Turning to them both, I snapped, “You tell me or I’ll go over there myself and find out.”

Jimmy-Don paled and went to say something, when Coach entered the room. “Prince, office, now,” he shouted.

Frowning, I turned around, watching him head into the back rooms out of sight.

“What the fuck you done now?” Austin asked, concerned.

“Fuck knows.” I began walking away, but not before catching Porter laughing again with his friends. Turning back to Austin and Jimmy-Don, I said, “You’re going to tell me what the hell is going on when I get back.”

As I approached Coach’s door, I felt a wave of unease. I had no idea why the hell he needed to speak to me so urgently, but whatever it was, it didn’t feel good.

“Come in, Rome!” he yelled when I rapped on the closed door, and I entered the office and he gestured for me to sit down.

He looked stressed, out of sorts, and my stomach fell. “What is it?”

Running his hand over his forehead, he said, “We’ve been given the details on the venue for the SEC Championship homecoming dinner.”

“Okay…” I couldn’t figure out why the hell it would matter to me.

“Rome, your momma and daddy are hosting it. Prince Oil is funding the whole party and the dinner is at your folks’ place… the Prince Plantation.”

I just stared. I have no idea for how long, but it was long enough to encourage Coach to ask, “Son, you okay?”

“She’s pregnant,” I whispered.

Coach leaned forward, asking, “What?”

“Mol, my girl… she’s pregnant.”

My eyes fixed on Coach as he sat back and blew out a long breath. “Hell, son! You sure know how to do things the hard way. Ain’t you a bit young to be a daddy?”

“It wasn’t planned.” I ran my hands through my hair. “But we’re keeping it. It’s
our
child. We’re going to make it work.”

Coach seemed to accept that. “I take it your folks don’t know?”

“I haven’t spoken to them in months. The last time I saw them, they attacked me and Mol. It was a fuckin’ nightmare.” Panic swelled in my stomach, that sinking, empty feeling that almost makes you puke. My hands began to shake and I blurted, “We need to change it, Coach, the venue. We need to have it somewhere else where they can’t run the show.”

“I tried, Rome, I really did, but the director of sport already approved it. The damn governor’s going to be there for goodness sake. Apparently your momma and daddy were real insistent, and hell, but folks don’t argue with them ’round here. You know this.”

Unable to sit still any longer, I jumped to my feet and began to pace. “It’s a setup! You and I both know they’ve never given a shit about football. They’ve never even seen me play for the Tide once. Hell, they even tried to bribe you into revoking my scholarship four years ago!”

“I know, but I don’t know what else to do.”

“Fine.” I met Coach’s worried face and announced, “I just won’t go.”

“Rome!” Coach said tiredly and moved to stand before me. “You have to be there. We have the sponsors coming, the TV stations, journalists—they expect you to be there.
I
expect you to be there! You’re the QB for the Tide. You
are
football in Bama!”

“I won’t go and risk my girl getting hurt!”

“Then maybe leave her at home, son. Think of a plan B. Turn up, wear a smile, do your duty, and leave.”

Do your duty. Where had I heard that before?

“Change it,” I said through clenched teeth. “Change it… I’m begging you.”

Coach reached out to lay a hand on my shoulder, but I jumped at the action and his face fell as he held up his palms. “Rome, I’m so sorry. I don’t know the history with you and your parents, but I know it’s bad. I hate to ask this of you, but you need to be there, and the venue choice is way out of my hands.”

Coach checked his watch and cussed. “The coaching staff have a meeting now with the director about the travel plans to Georgia, and I can’t get out of it. I’ve got to go.” Stepping forward, he said, “Finish up your weights. Hell, go pass some balls, get out your anger, then go home and try to relax. Speak to Miss Shakespeare. And if needs be, we’ll work out a way to protect you both.” Laying a hand on my shoulder, he assured, “You’re our priority, son. We’re a team. We look out for each other.”

I couldn’t speak so I stood there silently as he left the room without another word.

I tried to keep calm, but I was too far gone, too enraged.

When I reentered the gym, Austin and Jimmy-Don signaled for me to go over to them, but I was rooted to the spot, lost, not knowing what to do. I couldn’t let my folks get to me this way, but I needed football to leave their clutches once and for all. I was in total catch twenty-two. I needed a plan, but Christ, I couldn’t think straight.

“Rome!” Austin shouted and, frowning at my weird mood, waved me over.

Breathing deep, I headed in his direction, when I heard Porter say, “Yeah, apparently she’s a real slut. Shelly said she lets him do anything to her, and I mean anything. I see the attraction now. I could get past all that ugly if she’d let me fuck her up the ass too.”

I could feel the wave of the blood rushing to my face and my teeth were clenched together so hard I was sure I felt them crack. I saw Austin glaring at Porter in disgust and tried my damnedest to gain my composure, but when the fucker added, “I mean, just hearing that English accent scream my name would almost have me shooting my load… and from what I hear, she swallows that down like a good little whore!”

I completely lost it.

Using the years and years of sprint training to my advantage, I flew at Porter, tackled his ass to the floor, and instantly began to wale on him. He didn’t even get a chance to react properly, only getting in a few shit jabs before a right hook to his jaw knocked him the fuck out. His body went limp below me, but I couldn’t stop. I needed to get out all the anger. It was tearing me the hell up—and the fucker deserved to pay for the shit he was spitting about Mol.

Two arms grabbed me from behind, yanking me off Porter, and scrambling to my feet, I saw Austin and Jimmy-Don were before me. On instinct, I swung out my fist, Austin ducking, showing he too wasn’t unused to violence.

“Get him the hell out of here and cleaned up… All y’all move… Now!” Jimmy-Don screamed over my shoulder, and swerving, I watched what was left of the team, dragging a now semi-conscious Porter from the gym.

“What the fuck’s up with you?” Austin barked out, clearly trying to keep hold of his own temper.

“Y’all need to leave me the hell alone,” I said roughly.

“Rome, buddy—”

“I said leave!” I snapped at Jimmy-Don, who, disappointed, pulled on Austin’s shirt to get him out of the gym, leaving me to deal with all this crap by myself.