Sweet Rome (Sweet Home 1.5)

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.”

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 f**kin’ 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!”