“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 f**kin’ 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 f**k’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 f**k 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 f**k 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.”