Sweet Rome (Sweet Home 1.5)

“Ugh! Fine! I get you!”

Tilting my head, I assured, “I’m going to make sure you’re protected at the party, baby.”

“I know you will.”

Moving to the bench, I pulled her onto my lap, feeling a million times better. “It’s déjà vu,” she said, “you, cut up and bleeding and me, cleaning you up. But let’s not make this our ‘thing,’ okay?”

“Last time, I promise. I’m going to change. No more cleaning up my messes. Scout’s honour.” I held up my hands, joining the appropriate fingers together.

“You were never a scout, Romeo,” Molly chuckled.

“I joined…” I informed.

Fixing her eyes on mine, she asked, “Really, you did?”

“Mm-hmm… but I was kicked out for fighting.” Sad but true… The f**ker probably deserved it back then too.

“Why am I not surprised?” she said, curling farther into my chest, her breath warm on my skin.

Our friends let themselves in a short while later, where I explained about my folks and the party, much to their dismay, and then I told Austin and Jimmy-Don about the baby. They were, unsurprisingly, shocked, but meeting eyes with Austin, I knew he was going to help me protect Molly and our angel.

27

The Prince Plantation

SEC Championship Homecoming Dinner

“My husband and I couldn’t be more proud of our son, Rome. He was always so talented growing up, and y’all love and respect him too—that only increases our admiration.”

A soothing vanilla scent drifted on the breeze as Molly leaned in, rubbing my arm, and took my tightly gripped fist off the edge of the table, placing it on her slightly rounded stomach. Squeezing my eyes, I calmed some but tensed once more when my momma continued talking from the top table, addressing the heavy crowd.

“My husband and I couldn’t make it to the game in Georgia, unfortunately, as we had prior engagements with our company here in Alabama, but we watched the SEC Division Championship on TV, seeing y’all win over the Gators and lift that trophy for everyone here back home.”

Screams and cheers went up from around the room, except for our table. Coach looked over to me, shaking his head at my momma in disgust.

“We couldn’t be more proud of our son who threw like a true professional in all four quarters, or all of the Tide for that matter. Your state and school adore y’all.”

I actually felt nauseous as she lied her way through the speech. Proud? Talented? They’d never been proud of me, but here they were, f**king showboating to the crowd, the cream of Tuscaloosa society smiling at me, congratulating me on my amazingly supportive parents.

They had no friggin’ idea.

“I love you, baby,” Molly whispered into my ear, and I turned toward her face, slackening my tense jaw and pressing my lips against hers, breaking only momentarily to say, “I love you too.”

My folks didn’t even acknowledge me much after that, too busy networking and putting on their show.

We had nothing left to say to one another anyhow.

The dinner moved on to the party side of things, and I relaxed when I managed to convince Molly to dance—keeping her close, keeping her protected.

“Rome?” The band finished playing “Sweet Home Alabama” to rapturous applause from the team and fellow guests, and, turning at the sound of my name, I saw Coach behind me.

“Oh, hey, Coach.”

Facing Molly, he said, “Miss Shakespeare, can I borrow Rome for a while?”

I stiffened, not wanting to leave my girl, but, giving Coach a big smile back, she nodded. “Sure, my feet are killing me anyway. I need to sit down. My damn ankles are like balloons!”

Taking Molly back to the table and sitting her down with her friends, I said, “I’ll be back as soon as I can. Stay with someone, okay?”

Pressing a kiss on my cheek, she answered, “I promise.”

Turning back toward Coach, I managed to signal to Austin and Jimmy-Don to watch out for Molly, and they both gave me a thumbs-up.

Over an hour passed, and I was still talking over game tactics for the BCS against Notre Dame—the most effective plays and the weaker parts of the Dame defense. I felt as though my eyes were crossing with boredom, and when my daddy joined the mass of business men and boosters, also throwing in his two cents, I had to hold back from launching across the group and throttling the bastard, especially when he looked at me and smiled—no, not smiled, gloated—my heart sank.

Something was up.

I began backing away from my daddy’s smug face, Coach frowning worriedly at my behavior, and I ran around the house, bursting into the backyard, and searched furiously for Mol. I beelined for the table we’d been sitting at and did a quick count: Cass, Austin, Lexi, Ally, and Jimmy-Don.

No Mol.

Jimmy-Don stood and looked behind me, beaming. “Where is she, man? You made her damn night with that note, you cheesy bastard!”

My hands began to shake, my breath choppy. “Where’s Molly? What’re you talking about?” I gripped onto his arms, my move silencing the table. Jimmy-Don’s mouth worked, but nothing came out.

“Where is she?” My hold on his arm tightened, hurting him, until a sharp push from Ally stopped me. Jimmy-Don stumbled back into Cass’s arms, completely white.

I looked down at my cousin and whispered, “Mol?”

And then I heard it…

“Rome! ROME!!!”