“No. She’s… erm…”
“Was it Shelly? Has that bitch—”
“It’s not Shelly either.”
“Then what’s wrong…? Al, for fuck’s sake, move outta my way!”
Cass and Lexi scattered. Romeo lifted me in his strong arms and carried me to the bed, laying me down and pressing me protectively to his chest.
Romeo’s nose tucked into my hair and he cupped my cheek, forcing me to look at him. I wiped the tears from my eyes and noticed that his face was beautifully conflicted—worried, sad, supportive.
He leaned forward and kissed away two stray tears. “Baby, what’s wrong?”
I couldn’t speak so I just stared, trying to anticipate his reaction.
He abruptly swerved his head to the bottom of the bed, barking, “Will somebody tell me what the fuck is goin’ on?”
“Rome, Molly needs to tell you. We’ll go, give you some time to yourselves,” Ally said calmly.
Each of my friends walked over and kissed me on my cheek before leaving the room. I sat up, my chest jerking erratically from the aftershocks of my meltdown.
When the door closed, Romeo pulled me on top of him, searching my eyes. “Baby, please. Tell me what’s wrong. You’re scarin’ the shit outta me.”
I curved forwards and kissed him tenderly. “I love you, Romeo.”
“I love you, too,” he answered back, and I smoothed the confusion from his lined forehead with my hand.
“Mol—”
“I’ve been feeling off for a few days,” I confessed, interrupting whatever he was about to say.
His eyes narrowed. “Why the hell didn’t you tell me?”
“I found out today why.”
“And… what’s wrong?” he pushed tersely, his patience waning.
“I’m… I’m…”
He groaned and pulled me closer. “Christ! You’re what, Mol?”
“I’m pregnant,” I said, barely loud enough to hear.
He went motionless, colour draining from his tan complexion, his fingers digging into my skin. “You’re pregnant?” He rolled me over so he was on top and asked me again with more urgency. “You’re pregnant?”
Tears pricked at my eyes, but I focused on holding them back. “Yes, I’m pregnant, Romeo. I’m pregnant with your baby.”
He retreated, resting his backside on his calves, and raked his hands through his hair with his eyes tightly closed. I watched him like a hawk, trying to figure out what he was feeling.
After minutes of suffocating silence, I didn’t think it was good.
“I’ll make an appointment to see a doctor. I’ll just get rid of it immediately.”
Dark eyes sprang open, disappointment in his chocolate glare. “You’d kill our baby?”
Anger wrapped me tightly in her embrace. “Don’t get all high and mighty on me now! I don’t need to hear any moral shit! I’m trying to do the best thing for both of us. I’ll cope with whatever I have to do. If that means having an abortion, then that’s just what will have to happen—it doesn’t mean that I want to go through with it!”
Panic swelled in his eyes. “Then don’t, baby, please. Gettin’ rid of it can’t be what you fuckin’ want?”
“I don’t know what the hell I want!”
Romeo bent forward and ran his lips back and forth over mine, his hands gently holding the sides of my face. “Well I do.”
“But… you…”
“Jesus, I was shocked! I’m still shocked, but that’s our baby in there. We made it together.” Never breaking my gaze, he shuffled down my legs, lifting up my white T-shirt, opened the waist of my jeans, and kissed butterfly caresses along my stomach. “And it’s not goin’ anywhere. Promise me. I have real strong feelin’s about this, Mol. Don’t destroy our God-given angel.”
Tears flowed like a waterfall once more.
“Promise me I have a say in this. Don’t have an abortion, please.”
I dropped my head, my feelings a jumbled mess. “I promise.”
He crawled back up my body and pressed his mouth to mine. I clasped my arms around his neck and in seconds, he rid me of my jeans and panties. Rome reached down and snapped open the fly of his jeans, sliding into me slowly, keeping his soft mouth working against mine.
“Romeo…” I whispered, clinging helplessly to his shoulders.
“I love you, Mol.”
I cried as he made love to me carefully, showing me without words that we were in this together. Rome’s movements grew faster, and I gripped onto him tighter until we found our mutual release.
I languidly traced the blades of his back. “That’s the softest you’ve ever made love to me. It felt so different.” I pressed my forehead to his. “I loved it.”
Romeo’s hand caressed my stomach. “You’re carrying precious cargo now, baby. I need to be more careful with you… with you both.”
He tucked his head into the crook of my neck and we simply held each other.
Romeo reared up his chest and pecked my cheek, smiling. “You look like my old Mol with these glasses and your hair like that. The girl I looked at months ago, on her hands and knees, cussin’ in that fuckin’ hot accent in humanities block, wearin’ neon orange shoes and I knew, without a shadow of doubt, that she would one day be mine.” He ruffled my bun and fixed me with a completely adoring expression.
“One day,” I goaded, stroking his tattoo on his hip, and his eyes sparkled in response.
“I always wondered if one day I’d have a family, if I’d ever be happy enough with someone… with myself, to have a child.”
My gut wrenched at his pain and I pulled in a panicked breath, thinking about the enormity of our situation. “Romeo, I don’t think I can be a mother. We haven’t had normal families. We have no idea how to be in a normal family! How the hell can we bring up a child? We’re far too young—what do we have to offer a baby?”
He sighed. “Something we never had.” He shuffled and tugged me to face him. “Listen to me. Together we can do it. Together we can do anythin’. We can be good parents.”
“But your football…”
“So what? I’ll get drafted in April and you’ll come with me, with our son or daughter. You can still do your PhD and achieve your dreams. We can have it all. Just please… don’t destroy our child, our first child.”
“Rome—” I whimpered.
A finger over my mouth silenced me. “I could’ve been destroyed, but my birth mother didn’t. She had me. I’m here because she chose me, even if she didn’t actually want me. Yeah, my family did a real number, but I got through it and it led me to you, my smart English girl—the girl that saved me. The girl who showed me how to love.”
I ran my hand over his stricken face. “Your parents will think I’ve done it on purpose to trap you.”
His lips tightened and his expression hardened. “I don’t give a fuck what they’ll think. In fact, I’ve no intention of ever tellin’ them. I was serious when we left their house that night. I’m done with them. You’re my life now; you’re my everythin’. You and our baby.”
I held on to my boyfriend until my tears of fear, shock, and immense love ran dry. When Romeo rolled away, he stripped us completely of our clothes, laid me under the covers, and wrapped his arm around my stomach, whispering sweet words of love and caressing the home of our baby.
20
“Are you nervous?” I asked as I wound my hair around my finger.
Romeo pretended to bite his nails and then squeezed my knee, smirking. “More like a mixture of nervousness and excitement.” He tucked me in closer with his arm that was securely around my shoulders. “We see our baby soon,” he whispered excitedly.
Rome gripped my hand tightly. I knew he was more anxious than he let on, but was feigning a breezy attitude purely for my easy-to-freak-out benefit.
The last several days had been… nothing short of surreal. It took us a few days to really wrap our heads around the fact that we were pregnant.
We were pregnant.
Romeo had made sure that I always said it that way. He reminded me at every opportunity that he was in, one hundred percent, and it was a team effort.
My friends, after accepting that I wasn’t going to have a major baby-based meltdown, let themselves be excited for us both, if not understandably a little concerned, and promised to keep the news to themselves. I also informed Professor Ross, who was, let’s just say, shocked—actually, that was putting it mildly—but she’d been a pillar of support and was trying to help me figure out a way to continue my academic studies after the baby was born. Other than that, no one else would know until we were out of the first trimester and I couldn’t hide it any longer.
Life was suddenly crazy, but being pregnant wasn’t as scary as I’d originally thought.
I’d made an appointment with the OB-GYN and, due to my mother’s complications in her pregnancy, which ultimately resulted in her death, I was told to come in immediately for a thorough check-up. Romeo dipped into his trust fund, paying for only the best doctor, so unlike most mere mortals, we would probably see our baby a lot earlier than normal.
Romeo and I were sitting in the sterile waiting room surrounded by heavily pregnant women of all ages and hyper, screaming kids crawling around our feet—that was enough to scare the crap out of us both, and by the amused looks on the other parents’ faces, our fear was evident.
I was in the middle of giggling at Romeo, who was staring at a little boy in the midst of a full-blown toddler strop, whispering, “Jesus Christ,” under his breath, when I heard my name.
“Molly Shakespeare?” A young, plump nurse called out to the room.
I held up my hand. “Yes, here.”
She smiled kindly. “If you’d like to follow me this way please, the doctor will see you now.”
I inhaled, looked at Rome, and grimaced. He laughed and patted my leg. “Come on, Shakespeare. Nothin’ to be afraid of.”
“Yeah right, five seconds ago I thought you were ready to throw yourself out the window to get away from the high decibel whines of that kid.”
“He just floored me with his persistence. But if he were mine, that wouldn’t happen. It’ll be easy.”
I snickered in his ear. “You’re dreaming if you believe that, but at least you do have an easy time at the birth. You’re not the one that’s going to have to push something out the size of a watermelon through a gap the size of a coin.”
Laying his hand on his heart, he said, “I’d do it for you if I could, baby.”
“Ha! Sure you would.”
Discreetly squeezing my arse, Rome ordered, “Get in there momma-to-be and quit stallin’.”
Romeo took my hand and we followed the nurse into a typical medical room—desk, patient bed, guest plastic chairs.
The nurse handed me a blue gown. “Slip this on, darlin’, and the doctor will be straight through.”
She left the room and I walked to the curtained-off changing area. Romeo stood too. I laid my hand on his chest. “Erm, where the hell do you think you’re going?”
Putting his hands flat on my back, he proceeded to push me forward. “Comin’ with you.”
I slapped his hands away. “Get back over there! How embarrassing! They’ll think something is going on!”
Rome’s lush mouth went to my ear and he ran his hands down my waist, just seductive enough to earn an eager sigh from my throat. “Get in there, Shakespeare, shut up talkin’ back to me, and let me undress you.”
My eyes closed involuntary, his attitude making me more turned on than ever. Then again, pregnancy seemed to be having that effect on me. I’d had him in more ways than I could remember in the last week.
Romeo pulled the curtain shut and began stripping me of my jacket and jeans with lust in his eyes.
When I was naked before him, he pressed a soft kiss on my lips, neck, and finally on my stomach before standing and helping me fix my gown.
“You’re going to be an overbearing nightmare for the next several months, aren’t you?” I teased as I traced his lips with my fingertip.
He shrugged, sucking the digit in his mouth. “I just wanna make sure everythin’s all right with you and the baby.”
I kissed him chastely and slid back the curtain, only to see the middle-aged doctor sitting and waiting for us with an amused grin. The good doctor, at least, tried to hide his mirth as I blushed.
He stood and held out his hand. “You must be Molly. I’m Dr. Adams.”
“Nice to meet you, Doctor Adams. This is my boyfriend, Romeo.”
Romeo held out his hand and the doctor’s face brightened. “Nice to meet you, Bullet. I’m a big fan—season ticket holder.” The doctor looked to me again. “And I recognise your face, Miss Shakespeare. The good luck charm that’s going to help Bullet here lead us to the championship again.”
Of course, football. We were in Alabama after all.
Romeo wrapped me in his arms. “She sure is. Thank you, sir.”
“Any news on the draft? Seattle Seahawks are dying this season. Their quarterback was forced to retire early through injury, and you’re a sure win for first draft.”
Romeo glanced sideways at me, apprehension evident on his face, and he fidgeted on his feet. “I know as much as you, sir, but from what I’ve been hearin’ from my coaches, Seattle is a big possibility for me.”
I frowned. Seattle was a possibility? He’d never even mentioned it to me.
“Please sit.” Doctor Adams gestured for me to follow him, breaking me from my inner thoughts. I scooted up on the bed and Romeo sat beside me on the chair, gripping my outstretched hand.
The doctor studied his chart. “So. You’re pregnant?” I could see a flicker of surprise in his blue eyes. Yes, Romeo “Bullet” Prince had knocked up a girl. How cliché.
“Yeah. I took a test last week and it was positive. In fact, I took four, all different brands, all telling me that I’m well and truly up the duff.”
Doctor Adams raised his eyebrow, cracking a smile at my British-ism. Romeo pursed his lips to stop from laughing along with him.
“Okay, well, we’ll run a few tests today and give y’all an ultrasound to see how far along you are. You think maybe around a month?”
“If my calculations are correct, yes. But I had a really light period last month, so I’m not too sure.”
“It’s normal to spot bleed at the beginning of a pregnancy so you could be further along. Let’s get started, shall we?”
The nurse took my blood, checked my vitals, weight, etc.… and eventually we were ready for the ultrasound.
I lifted my gown and the doctor took a scary-looking wand from a machine. “This may be uncomfortable, but it’ll help us get a better idea on how far along you are. We need to give you a transvaginal ultrasound because you’re still in the early stages.”
I looked at Romeo and grimaced. He nodded at me supportively and I melted watching how he was practically on the end of his seat in anticipation. I gave his hand a squeeze and he kissed mine with a small, anxious smile.
“Okay, you two, let’s meet your baby.”
Doctor Adams inserted the plastic wand and I flinched at the uncomfortable sensation. That was quickly forgotten the minute a grainy picture popped onto the screen beside us. At first it was just a blurry, foggy storm of nothing, until he manoeuvred the device and we heard it—the heavenly rhythm of a small beating heart. Something flickered on the monitor and there it was, our baby, nestled snuggly in my womb, about the size of a kidney bean.
Any fears I had dissipated with every melodic thrum of my baby’s tiny heartbeat, and Romeo clenched his lips tightly as a single tear dripped slowly from his eye. I lifted my thumb and stroked it away, loving how much he wanted this child… wanted us.
At that moment, I became a mother and by the awed look on Romeo’s beautiful face, he became a daddy.
Doctor Adams tinkered with the machine and smiled. “Everything looks great and it measures as though you are… ab
out… ah… about eight weeks along.”
Eight weeks.
Doctor Adams pressed a button and a picture came out of a printer, and he handed me the square piece of film that held the image of our little angel, the endearment Romeo had begun to call our little son or daughter.
I stared; I couldn’t stop staring at the small, black-and-white picture. Romeo leaned over me and kissed my head without saying a word, his throat clogged with emotion.
“You can get dressed now, Molly, and we’ll see you again in about two months unless you experience any problems we discussed, and then you need to come straight back.”
“Can we find out the sex then?” I asked quickly.
“Hopefully.” Doctor Adams stood and shook our hands once more, tapping Romeo’s back. “Congratulations, son, I’ll see you at the SEC Championship in Georgia and Roll Tide!”
Romeo gripped his arm in a manly way. “Roll Tide.” And with that, the doctor left the room.
Silence stretched between us as the significance of what had just happened sank in.
I handed Romeo the picture and guided my legs off the bed. Romeo reached out for me, helped me down, and crushed me tightly to his chest.
“Romeo what—”
“Thank you, Mol. Just… thank you…”
21
“Bloody hell, Angel. That’s just scared the absolute crap out of me! You’d better not be that difficult when you finally make your arrival,” I announced, as I lovingly rubbed my stomach.
I’d decided to be proactive with reading up on all things pregnancy, and that little idea had just backfired.
Majorly backfired.
I was definitely going to have nightmares about forceps and after birth.
I threw down my copy of What To Expect When You’re Expecting on my desk like it harboured some contagious flesh-eating disease and walked out onto the balcony, leaning over the railing, admiring the beautiful green of the lawn and the clear blue winter sky.
Things had calmed down since I’d completed my research for Professor Ross’s academic journal and the final philosophy papers had been graded for this last semester.