Sweet Home

  I marched around the table, leaving her seething on the spot, and hurried towards the door where Shelly pre-emptively shuffled to the side to let me pass.

  As I approached the end of the long table, I heard a loud screech and sharp nails dug into my arm, spinning me around. Kathryn’s curved backhand sliced across my face, knocking me off balance, and with a hard push, caused me to slam, stomach first, with huge force, against the edge of the antique solid mahogany table.

  At first I was dazed, my movements slowed, and I tried to stand, but a white-hot searing pain stabbed at my stomach, causing me to scream out loud.

  My vision blurred as unbearable jagged pangs racked my body, and I collapsed to the floor, trying to grip onto something to help me, to ease the hard cramps. I lifted my head to ask for help and saw Shelly gasping with her hands over her mouth, staring in horror at my legs.

  I looked down and my white dress was covered in blood.

  A tsunami of grief took hold of me and loud sobs tore from my body as agonising spasms knifed up my spine, in my stomach and legs, prohibiting me from moving. I lifted my hand and placed it between my thighs and when I pulled it back, it was coated in a wet glaze of scarlet. Shelly, seeing my distress, flew out of the room, screaming for Rome.

  I crawled to the table edge and tried to hoist myself up, but I couldn’t bear the agony of the convulsions.

  “You’re pregnant?!” Kathryn shrilled. “You little bitch!” She struck my face again, harder the second time, the strength of it knocking me flat on the floor, and I was met with my own dark pooling blood. I laid my cheek against the carpet, curling my legs into my chest, trying to pant through the pain.

  A commotion sounded at the entrance of the library and when I lifted my head, hordes of people were staring at me in alarm.

  “Move the fuck outta my way! MOVE!!!” Romeo’s deep voice boomed as he burst into the room. The tormented expression that swamped his face almost made my broken heart rip completely apart.

  “Mol! Fuck! Baby, I’m here! I’m here.” Romeo dropped to the floor next to me, his hands shaking, trying to work out what to do.

  He was helpless, as was I.

  I looked at him, salty water blurring my vision. “Romeo, our baby, our baby… I-I think I’m losing it. Help me… please,” I cried and broke down uncontrollably.

  An anguished scream ripped from his chest. “Somebody call 9-1-1. She’s losing our baby!”

  “They’re on the way, man. They’ll be here soon.” I recognised Jimmy-Don’s Texan twang.

  I watched numbly as more and more people ran into the room and when I turned my head, Cass, Lexi, Ally, Austin, Reece, and Jimmy-Don were staring at me, distraught. The girls had their arms around each other, openly crying as they witnessed me writhing in pain, covered in my own blood.

  Romeo reached for me, gently pulling me to his lap, and held me securely in his arms, rocking me back and forth, his wet cheek pressed on my head. “Shh, baby, I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

  I reached up, my blood leaving thick tracks on his cheek. “I think our baby’s gone. It hurts so much. I think our baby’s gone…” A high-pitched whine cut from my throat as another spasm gripped my womb.

  Floods of tears fell from Romeo’s eyes, and I grew weaker, my slow-motion vision registering that most of the team now stood around the room, heads dipped, watching the scene, some staring unseeing at the floor, some praying to God for help.

  “Where’s the fuckin’ ambulance?! She’s pregnant, goddamn it… She’s pregnant… Our little angel…” Romeo screamed in anguish and his broken voice trailed off to a despairing whisper as his shaking hands lifted my blood-soaked dress.

  His thumb pawed at my cheek, ghosted over my lip, and his eyes widened. He tilted my head slightly to the side. “Baby? Why’s your lip bleedin’? What the hell happened to you?”

  I stared at him blankly, unfocused, distantly. I felt disconnected from my body, like I was hovering above, watching the horror unfold. I felt increasingly sleepy and my energy drained away with every new gush of blood down my thighs.

  “Mol?” he pleaded, clutching to me as if he could stop my fading. “Mol! Stay with me. Mol!”

  “Y-your… mother hit her and she fell against the table. W-we… I-I didn’t know she was pregnant… We were just trying to scare her off. Things just spun outta control…” I recognised Shelly’s guilt-ridden voice.

  Romeo stiffened, fury possessing his body on a loud roar. “Where is she?”

  “She snuck out the side doors,” Shelly informed apologetically.

  Rome shifted, his strong arms attempting to put me down, but I gripped onto him tighter. I felt strangely numb and wanted Romeo next to me, holding me. “Please… don’t leave me…” I whispered, my heart faltering at his beautiful dark eyes haemorrhaging tears.

  Once Romeo had secured me back into his embrace, I gradually gave up, the pain lessening, dulling, as though my body was telling me that our little angel was saying a final, reluctant good-bye.

  “Baby, I’m so sorry… our angel… our angel…”

  Romeo’s handsomely torn face was the last thing I saw as my eyes lost vision and I gave in to the darkness.

  24

  At first all I heard was a perfectly timed beeping. Beep—pause—beep—pause—beep.

  My throat was bone dry and each swallow felt like dry wood splinters scratching along the raw flesh. I shifted my aching legs slightly, flinching as my stomach cramped.

  I cracked open my eyes and was met with a bright white ceiling and long fluorescent lights. A TV was playing quietly in the corner and plastic chairs of all colours surrounded my bed.

  I lifted my arm to find it attached to an IV drip. Something warm held my other hand. I rolled my throbbing head to the right and there he was, my Romeo, sleeping, both of his hands clutched in mine. He was sitting awkwardly in a red plastic chair, his head laid on the edge of my mattress facing me. His mouth was open a touch as he snored lightly, a strand of his long, sandy hair lifting and falling with every breath.

  He was beautiful.

  As I stared at my boyfriend, I tried to remember why I was here. Fractured black-and-white images teased me as they flitted randomly across my mind—a library, pain, shouting, blood… Romeo’s mother… our baby…

  My hand fell to my stomach as cold trepidation filtered into every cell. I tried to move and felt a tightening in my hand. My head snapped to the source, and I found Romeo watching me, eyes puffy, swollen, the whites bloodshot red and his chocolate gaze burdened with sadness.

  I literally felt paralysed.

  “Romeo? Did… Did…?” I couldn’t say the words out loud. To say them might make it true and I didn’t want to believe what I knew to be the case.

  Romeo’s jaw worked back and forth and fresh tears spilled over his long, inky lashes, racing down his unshaven cheeks to land like boulders on the white cotton sheet. I watched as he forced a swallow and nodded his head slowly, watching me intently, gripping my hand.

  I curled towards him, pulling our clenched hands to my chest and released the pent-up agony burning inside me. Loud sobs swept through me and Romeo covered my body with his as if he could physically shield me from my desperate torture.

  We’d lost our baby.

  I wasn’t going to be a mother.

  “I’m so sorry… It’s all my fault.”

  I turned my head, sniffing and wiping away the wetness. “W-why are you blaming yourself? You did nothing wrong.”

  Romeo shook his head over and over.

  I shuffled back and weakly pulled on his hand to encourage him to lie beside me. As quickly as possible, Romeo climbed onto the slim mattress and his head joined mine on the thin white pillow, our hands clutched as though in communion, faithfully holding on to our love like a rosary.

  Romeo lifted our hands to his lips, kissing and brushing them against his mouth. “I killed our baby, Mol. I didn’t protect you. I let you down…”

  My throat was
so thick with emotion that I almost couldn’t speak. Romeo, the always stern and aggressive football star, was crumbling.

  “There was nothing you could’ve done.”

  He squeezed his eyes shut. “I never should’ve left you alone for even a second. I knew my parents were up to somethin’. We should never have gone. I should’ve let you stay at home, where you both would’ve been safe. Now…” His head fell to our hands and tears fell as in confession.

  I let him get it all out and when he’d calmed, I said sadly, “Romeo, my heart is broken. Just when I think I can’t be hurt any more, I get a dagger plunged straight into my heart. What did we do so wrong to have everything ripped away from us? I seem to lose everyone I love: my mother, father, Grandma, and now our baby. I can’t take any more pain. It’s too much for me to cope with… I just can’t do it anymore.”

  Shaking, Romeo cradled me to his chest. “I don’t know why your family was taken, baby, and I know you’re crushed. But my mother was to blame for this. Shelly told Ally everythin’—the note, the accusations. I’m fuckin’ through with them. They’re poison to you and me, Mol, poison. You’re all I have left… Don’t run from us. Just… don’t run.”

  All I felt was numbness, my body blocking out the hurt, switching back to the auto-protection mode that Romeo had broken through all those months ago. He scattered desperate kisses and soft touches all over my face.

  “What happened to me? I don’t remember much.”

  Romeo played with the hospital tag on my wrist, reliving the trauma of the previous night. “The paramedics arrived and brought you here. I came with you. Our friends are still downstairs; they never left. You’ve been in about twenty-four hours now. The impact of the table caused internal bleeding. You needed surgery.”

  I focused on the ceiling, counting the small white tiles with detached fascination. “Can I still have children?”

  Romeo smoothed hair from my forehead, holding tightly to my limp body in his arms. “Yeah, it was the first thing I asked, baby. I-I didn’t know if you’d want to get pregnant right away? If we should try again when you’re better? I just… just want you to be happy, whatever you want.”

  I stiffened and he clutched me tighter. “I’m sorry, Mol. I shouldn’t have said anythin’ yet. It’s too soon, too raw. Forgive me. Just forgive me for everythin’. I love you so much, and our angel just made us so happy… made us a family… I… I’m afraid I’ll lose you too. It’s all I’ve been thinkin’ ‘bout while you’ve been asleep.”

  I tried to relax as I breathed in Romeo’s unique mint and soap scent. I couldn’t say anything. I knew he needed my assurance, my promise to stay, that everything would be okay, but I couldn’t. I didn’t want to think. I didn’t want to be here, childless, in a hospital bed, with my boyfriend shattered to pieces.

  I wrapped my fists in his favourite red Tide shirt and held on as we silently rode wave after wave of grief until all that was left was a shallow void.

  * * *

  My friends stopped by to see me, offering their heartfelt condolences and talking idle chitchat, skirting the taboo issue of children and trying their best to take my mind off things.

  They needn’t have bothered. I didn’t feel… anything, and I never once spoke back.

  Romeo slouched beside me on the bed. He ignored the strange looks he received from the doctors and didn’t flinch when the nurses would stop by my room to see the devoted boyfriend refusing to leave his girlfriend’s side. They could tell that the words “visiting hours” meant nothing to the quarterback from the Crimson Tide and allowed him to stay every night in my bed.

  The power of football in Alabama.

  Romeo tried over and over to talk to me, but I didn’t answer. I slept… a lot, and when I didn’t sleep, I lay next to him in a self-imposed comatose state. I was a living, breathing zombie.

  After days recovering in hospital, the doctor told me I would be discharged the following morning. Romeo immediately began to pack my overnight bag that Ally had brought in and he couldn’t hide his relief that we were finally going home.

  Home.

  Nowhere felt like home. England held the memories of my lost family; Alabama now held the memory of my lost baby—nowhere made me feel safe.

  Professor Ross had called by, upset and apologetic for my loss. She was leaving for Oxford that night for the lecture—she and Romeo had decided together that it was best if I didn’t travel. Romeo told me cautiously, expecting that I would put up a protest and insist on delivering my part of the paper due to the fact that I’d worked on it for almost a year. I simply shrugged and went back to sleep. Ordinarily I would have protested. But I just couldn’t muster up the strength to care.

  Romeo sighed in defeat every time I rolled away from him, closing in on myself. He watched me, always watched me and stalked my every move. He could see I was broken. I knew he was too, but if I let myself feel, I wasn’t sure I would survive the onslaught of pain that I knew would follow. He told me over and over how much he loved me and, as always, begged me not to leave.

  I made no such promise.

  When my bag was packed and dusk closed in, Romeo’s phone sounded.

  I turned and watched as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “What is it?”

  “It’s Coach. He needs me to attend a charity function at the stadium tonight. I’ve missed a lot of game prep, and he needs the QB to be there to show I’m with the team all the way to the championship.”

  “Then go.”

  He snapped his head to me. “I can’t leave you like this.”

  “Yes, you can. I’m tired anyway. I need to sleep.”

  Groaning loudly in exasperation, he aggressively smacked his fist into the wall. “For Christ’s sake, Mol! How can you be tired? You’ve slept for days, done nothin’ for days! I understand you’ve had surgery, but the doctors said you should be feelin’ a lot better by now. You’re wallowin’, Shakespeare. You need to snap the hell out’ve it! I’ve tried, been tryin’ to be patient, but enough is enough! I’ve lost a baby too, not just you, but you shut me out and act like I’m a damn stranger to you. I was the daddy, for fuck’s sake! I can’t do it alone. I have too much to think about—you being like this, leadin’ the team to the championship, the hopes of an entire state on my head. I need you to help me, Mol, not to drown in your own fuckin’ misery. Who’s supportin’ me? I’m grievin’ too!”

  I watched as the old anger that haunted him when we first met seeped back into his body. He fixed his scarab eyes on mine, stormed over to my bedside, and lifted me, pressing his lips harshly against my mouth.

  I didn’t kiss him back, and he dropped me to the mattress, practically growling in frustration. “For fuck’s sake! Please. Please. You’re scarin’ the shit outta me! You need to start dealin’ with it, dealin’ with everythin’ that’s happened.”

  I just turned away and stared at nothing.

  “You can’t even bear to look at me, can you?”

  I narrowed my eyes, whipped back to face him, and bit out, “There! I’m looking at you! Tell me, Rome, what would like me to deal with exactly? The fact that your mother killed my fucking baby?”

  Romeo withdrew as if I’d punched him and he answered through gritted teeth, “Our baby, and don’t you ever forget that. I was with you all the way until the end… still am! I’m still fuckin’ here, tryin’ to pull you outta hell!”

  I shrugged nonchalantly and turned my back, my sorrow and guilt trying to bubble up my throat, but I pushed it down—deep, deep down. I couldn’t allow myself to feel.

  “You know what? Fuck this! I’m out!” Romeo marched out of the door and I watched as he bolted down the corridor, his back rigid from stress.

  I breathed out slowly and closed my eyes, wishing to just never wake up.

  * * *

  A newspaper being slapped on the bed table awoke me from my sleep. A very drunken Kathryn Prince stood at the end of my bed, the door to my private room tightly shut, blinds closed.


  I was trapped.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked angrily, scurrying to prop myself up on the pillows.

  She smiled and wobbled to the chair, dropping herself on the seat beside me, whiskey once again reeking from her pores. She appeared completely dishevelled, her perfect blond hair was sticking out in knotty clumps, and her eyes were surrounded by deep, dark circles, her red lipstick slightly smudged.

  Leaning forward, she pointed her boney finger at me and her face contorted into a vicious expression. “You’ve ruined us, you little whore.”

  I regarded her blankly, fighting the disabling anxiety I could feel blooming in my chest. “You ruined yourself. You murdered our unborn baby! Your grandchild!”

  “That abomination should never have been conceived. It was scum, just like its mother!”

  I felt like I’d been hung up, nailed to a cross, and crucified. My baby was not scum. It was perfect; it was ours.

  Mrs. Prince pushed the newspaper farther in my direction. “Read it. The editor and my husband’s not-so-biggest fan sent us an early copy. A little treat for suing him a few years back.”

  I reached out and with shaking hands picked up the paper. “Oh my God. That’s why?”

  “Fantastic reading, isn’t it?”

  The front cover had a picture of me, the night of the dinner, on a stretcher outside the plantation, being carted to the ambulance, my white dress soiled by a mass of blood, an oxygen mask on my face, and Romeo gripping my hand tightly, his expression distraught, also covered in my blood. The parallel picture showed Mr. Prince in a suit outside Prince Oil headquarters.