Sweet Home

by Tillie Cole

  I smiled at his teasing, pressing a thankful kiss to his smooth cheek. “Good-bye, Oliver. Thank you for… everything.”

  “Thank you, Molly. Good luck with your new life in America.”

  With a new determination, I ran to the university guest accommodation as fast as my legs would take me.

  I rushed into my room and began throwing my things in my bag. I’d almost fully packed when there was light tap on my door.

  “May I come in, Molly?”

  It was Suzy.

  I let her in and she glanced at me in panic after she’d taken in my empty room. “Are you going somewhere again? Where to now, Molly? This has to stop—”

  “I’m going back,” I interrupted.

  Her frown smoothed and a flicker of hope lit in her milky grey eyes. “To?”

  “Alabama. Oh, no, actually…” I checked the date on the calendar on the wall. “I’m going to Pasadena, California, Rose Bowl Stadium.”

  A huge smile pulled on Suzy’s crepe-thin skin. “Molly. Thank goodness. What made you change your mind?”

  “An old friend made me confront just how much I miss and love Romeo. He needs me and I just left. I need to go and make it right.” I played with my hands. “It will be difficult going back there, after… after… you know, but I have to, for him.”

  Suzy reached forward and gripped my hand. “Molly, I want to tell you a few things, just quickly before you depart.”

  “Okay,” I replied, impatiently checking my watch.

  A maternal smile tugged on her lips. “You remind me a lot of me, you know. You love philosophy, you want to be a professor, and you’ve had a difficult life.”

  I took a seat on the bed, nervous at the direction in which her conversation was heading.

  “My father died in the war, Molly. Did you know that?”

  “No,” I responded, genuinely surprised.

  “He was shot in France. I was very young when it happened, but it stayed with me, affected me, like your father’s death did you. Years passed by and I eventually got to grips with my life. When I came to Oxford—quite the accomplishment for a girl in those days—I met Richard. He was so dapper and handsome and I knew, just by our first touch, that I was madly in love with him. We married six months later. You had that with Mr. Prince. I watched you in the lecture hall and saw the immediate change, and not just in your appearance.”

  I fiddled with my hands and I heard Suzy take a sobering breath. “I’ve lost five babies in my life, Molly.”

  I gasped and covered my mouth. She leaned over and patted my knee. “No tears. I’m an old, tough cookie.”

  I held her hand and squeezed it in support.

  Suzy stared at our two hands, unseeing. “I could never carry a child full term and after the fifth miscarriage, I couldn’t even get pregnant anymore. Eventually Richard and I came to terms with our destiny and together we’ve lived a wonderful life.”

  “Suzy, I—”

  “Shh, child. I did not share this to gain your pity. In fact, it’s quite the opposite. You’ve endured a lot in your young life, but these things make you who you are, give you strength, and they also lead you to your destiny. You can’t always run.”

  I wiped at my eyes, expelling the moisture. “I just want somewhere finally to call home. Everywhere I seem to go just brings me more sadness.”

  “Molly, a home is not a place. It’s not a country or a town or a building or possession. Home is with the other half of your soul, the person who shares in your grief and helps you carry the burden of loss. Home is with the person who throughout it all never gives up on you and brings you eternal happiness. That, Molly dear, is your home sweet home, and I think we both know that you found yourself a very handsome young man who might just be that person. Don’t let go of it, Molly, even when things are tough, just don’t let go.”

  I jumped up and hugged her tightly. After several seconds, she patted my back and shook herself right. “Now, now, young lady, none of this. We’re British—stiff upper lip and all that. No need for over-affection.”

  I giggled and grabbed my things. When I turned around, Suzy was holding out her car keys. “Come, Molly, I’m going to show you how an old aged pensioner gets you to Heathrow Airport in record time.”

  * * *

  I sat in the departure lounge and anxiously took my phone from my bag. I stared at the black rectangle with a lump in my throat. I knew it would be filled with messages, messages of hurt and pain. I eventually sucked up my fear, turned on the power, and a barrage of text messages and voicemails flooded the screen.

  The first instantly made me cry as Romeo’s gruff Bama accent filled my ears:

  “Molly! Where are you, baby? I’m so sorry for what I said and leavin’ you like that. I’ve just heard from the nurse about my momma. My God, Mol, they said she attacked you… again! Please tell me where you are… You just left the hospital without tellin’ anyone. I can’t find you anywhere.”

  It rolled straight to the next mail.

  “Mol.”

  His voice was broken, emotional.

  “There’s a story in the paper. It’s about us… about losin’ our angel. Christ, Mol, there’s a picture of you. It’s breakin’ my heart and you’re not here. My momma has been arrested for assault; my daddy has been arrested for money launderin’. Please, call me. Tell me where you’re at. It’s all fucked up. I’m going crazy without you. I love you. Come back to me.”

  Tears dripped onto my knees.

  Next.

  “Molly, it’s Ally. It’s Christmas day. Romeo’s here with me and my folks. He’s not good. He’s completely heartbroken—he either doesn’t speak or gets so angry that he has to leave the house. Please. He blames himself for everything. Call him. He’s saying it’s all his fault!”

  Next.

  “Molls, it’s Cass. You better be back for the championship, girl, or I’m gonna track you down and kick your skinny English ass! The fans are freakin’ after the story in the paper, and Romeo can’t throw for shit in practice. No more feelin’ sorry for yourself! Fix it, girl. Get here, like, yesterday!”

  I laughed lightly at Cass’s usual no-nonsense tone.

  I spent the next hour listening to Romeo’s messages of heartbreak, anger, or complete desolation and my friends all trying to convince me to return. The last voicemail was left this morning. I pressed the button to listen.

  “Hey, baby, it’s me. I’m in Pasadena now for the game tomorrow and wanted to call you… again. I guess since you haven’t returned my calls, it means that you’re really not comin’ home. I know you’re in Oxford. Professor Ross emailed me. I just want you to know that I love you and that’ll never change. I need you, baby. I need you with me. You’re my family, my everythin’. You’re my home.”

  Home. I was his home sweet home.

  I erased all the messages and sent two texts.

  Ally, don’t say anything to Romeo in case I don’t make it, but I’m on my way to Pasadena. I need you to get me a pass for the game. I’ll call you when I land… I’m so sorry for everything, but I’m coming back for him. I’m coming back. Xx

  The next was much simpler.

  Romeo. I love you. I haven’t given up on us. You’re my home too. Xx

  I shut off my phone and headed to the departure gate. For the first time in my life, I was running to something, not away from it.

  26

  “How long until kickoff?”

  “Twenty minutes.”

  “Will we get there in time?”

  “It all depends on traffic.”

  I flopped back in the back seat of the cab and texted Ally.

  ME: Almost there. Traffic horrendous. How is he?

  ALLY: Hurry, Molls. The fans and cameramen keep looking for you. Cass and I keep getting questioned. Romeo isn’t good. Keeps searching for you as they practice. By the look on his face right now, he’s decided you’re not coming.

  Bugger, that wasn’t good.

  “Any closer y
et?”

  The cab driver’s knuckles on the wheel turned white in annoyance. “Look, lady. There’s the stadium. You can see the traffic for yourself.”

  I stretched my neck, spotting the large imposing stadium at the end of a long, traffic-jammed road. I had to get there.

  I could run that.

  I tossed money at the driver, jumping out of the cab, and broke into a run heading in the direction of the Rose Bowl Stadium. People whistled and whooped as I ran by in my brown cowboy boots and white lace summer dress, but I ignored it. I had my hair down and flowing, and I’d even managed to makeup my face. I’d used the time on the plane wisely.

  I could hear the noise from the rowdy crowd and grabbed my phone.

  ME: Approaching now. Meet me outside with pass.

  ALLY: On way. Cutting it close!

  I approached the entrance, climbing the steps two at a time. Just as I reached the top, Ally came running out decked in denim shorts and a Tide jersey. Her relieved smile nearly knocked me over as she reached for my hand.

  “Molls, I’ll hug you later. Right now you need to come quick. Throw these on!”

  She threw my jersey and a security pass at me.

  She’d brought my lucky jersey. She hadn’t doubted I’d come. She hadn’t doubted me.

  I put the jersey on over my dress, and Ally pulled me into the stadium, waving our passes at the steward as we ran. We weaved in and out of corridors, up staircases and through throngs of people and finally, back down to the lower level, coming out of a tunnel into the bright sunshine where a huge pitch-sized American flag covered the field. The national anthem was just coming to an end, some pop star singing passionately at the top of her lungs. The crowd roaring with excitement and patriotism. I stumbled at the sight of the ceremony, but Ally’s firm grip ensured I kept going.

  I spotted the sturdy form of Cass at our seats, directly behind the advertisement boards, whistling and using her hands to guide us to her. Relieved cheers also broke out as the Tide fans began to spot my arrival. I knew if I looked up, I’d be on the big screens, so I kept my head firmly down.

  As I ran past supporters, people paid their respects to my loss, taking hats off their heads as a sympathetic gesture and tapping me on the back, telling me to keep strong.

  I faltered.

  Ally turned to me with a sorrowful face. “It was big news, darlin’, but they’re all here to wish you well. No need to be embarrassed. Folks are sick to their stomachs at what Rome’s parents have done. They love y’all.”

  I swallowed, blushing, and I held up my hand in thanks to the kindness of complete strangers.

  We raced over to Cass, who, as always, sported her Stetson, jeans, “Smith” jersey, and boots. She picked me up, kissing my cheek, before setting me down before her. “Mighty good to have you back, girl. I’ll let you do that once due to the circumstances, but run away like that again and I’ll be spittin’ mad. I hold the title for hogtying in all ‘a Texas, and I’m not afraid to use my mad skills!”

  I rubbed her arm. “Duly noted, Cass.”

  She winked, eyes shining. “I missed ya, girl.”

  “I missed you, too.” She nudged me playfully.

  “Cut the reunion, girls. Here they come.”

  I watched on the big screens as the teams rallied in their respective changing rooms and the Tide, dressed in crimson and white and as returning champions, came out first.

  My chest pounded as one by one the players took to the field. I knew Romeo would be last and when I spotted him, I thought I would collapse. One look at his face and a barrage of memories assaulted me—touches, kisses, tears, smiles, making love, fucking hard—all in Technicolor.

  He was my home.

  Rome took to the pitch and I noticed the slight lethargy to his run, the subtle bow of his head, and the not-so-enthusiastic wave of his helmet to the crowd. My heart cried for all that I’d put him through. I’d left him alone when he’d begged me not to run.

  The Tide supporters began their chant as Romeo headed to the side of the pitch and the Jumbotron followed him the entire way.

  “Kiss, kiss, kiss, kiss…”

  My quarterback paled. He thought I wasn’t here. He thought he was letting down his fans. He thought he was going to be humiliated by my absence.

  Cass and Ally both leaned in with reassuring kisses on my cheeks, and I watched him stand on his own, not even glancing in my direction.

  “He doesn’t know I’m here,” I whispered.

  Ally and Cass looked at each other, worried expressions on both of their faces. Cass spat chewing tobacco on the floor, climbed up on her seat, and urged the crowd with a wave of her arms to keep going.

  The increase in decibel level was deafening, and many of the Tide team looked our way, the cameramen putting their focus on me. I saw Austin catch a glimpse of the screen and run, full sprint, towards Romeo, who had his head slumped forwards, ignoring the roaring crowd.

  Austin shook him from his stupor and pointed to me. It was as though time suspended. Like our movements were on half speed. I stepped to the far edge of the stands, jutting out in front of everyone else, and just waited.

  Romeo’s head lifted at Austin’s words, and he turned, his dark gaze tunnelling straight to mine. He stared at me, unmoving, and I stared straight back. The tension thickened and the fans hushed to eerie silence.

  I’m sorry. I love you. I messed up. I miss you. I tried to say so much to him with my eyes alone, but he gave me nothing in return.

  Rome walked slowly towards me and the closer he got, the more nervous I became.

  I devoured every inch of his face, his sweet chocolate eyes, luscious full lips, sandy long hair, and built, tanned muscled body. My body hummed with anticipation as it recognised who Romeo was.

  He was mine.

  My bare thighs scratched from the pressure against the wood of the ad boards, my body desperately wanting to be with him, to have him hold me in his arms.

  Romeo dropped his helmet as he approached. I noticed that both teams were watching us. The Tide had witnessed the loss of our baby firsthand and clearly knew that I’d left him on his own. By the smiles on their faces, their relief at my return was formidable.

  I smelled his scent first, mint and soap, drifting on the breeze. Then he was before me, looking up through long, inky lashes to my place on the high stand.

  He forced a swallow and rasped, “Hey, Mol.”

  I sucked on my lip to stop the trembling. “Hey, you.”

  “You gonna give up that sweet kiss?”

  “If that’s what you want.”

  He closed his eyes for a moment before snapping them back to me. “It most definitely fuckin’ is.” He lunged forward, his hands gripping under my arms, and with an incredible strength lifted me over the barrier and into his arms, his moist lips colliding with mine. I wrapped my arms around his neck, my legs around his waist, and kissed him right back. His tongue slid against mine, lapping at my hot flesh, and he groaned in my mouth. We were sharing so much with just one kiss—our loss and our sorrow.

  So much love.

  Breaking the kiss, he pressed his forehead to mine. “Are you really here?” he croaked, throat tight.

  “Baby, I’m so sorry I left. I couldn’t cope, but… I love you. I love you so, so much. Please forgive me. Please…”

  He tucked his head into the crook of my neck, and we dropped to the floor, his legs buckling in relief, with me seated on his knees. We held each other tightly, the crowd completely silent at our most private moment on full display.

  “Are you back for me? For good?” he whispered against my neck.

  I smoothed the wisps of hair at the nape of his neck. “For the first time ever, baby, I ran back to something, to you… my Romeo.”

  He lifted his head, his swollen eyes meeting mine. I read the forgiveness and unconditional love, quickly to be replaced by his darker caged beast. He’d had reassurance; he now needed to take back control.

  “You
won’t ever run again. You get that now?”

  “I get it.”

  He tightened his hands on my face. “You left me alone for weeks, no word, no explanation. Do you know how mad I am at you for that?”

  “I know,” I whispered regretfully.

  Passion flooded his eyes and he declared, “I’m gonna win this game. Then I’m gonna fuckin’ brand you, once and for all. It seems I’ve been too lenient with you, Shakespeare. Maybe you didn’t quite get that you’re mine and as such can never, ever leave me—even if your heart is broken. Because if you’re hurtin’, baby, you can bet that I’m fuckin’ hurtin’ too.”

  Romeo stood with me still in his arms. The crowd and players clapped and he squeezed my arm. “You. Back in those stands. Now. I’ve got a championship title to take back home. Then I’ll deal with you. Quite frankly, I don’t know which one I’m more excited for.”

  My stomach flipped as I cupped his cheeks and pressed a quick kiss to his lips. “Give ‘em hell, baby.”

  Winking, he lifted me back to my seat. Cass hollered, hand in the air, and Ally wiped her eyes.

  Romeo took his place on the field.

  “Shit, Molls, Bama gonna make you queen when we take this win! That guy is pumped. What the hell did he say to you?”

  I blushed and bowed my head. “Nothing… much.”

  Ally and Cass laughed at my red face and the referee blew his whistle, signalling kickoff, and we all got to our feet.

  * * *

  It was close.

  For over three hours we’d watched as Alabama scored, swiftly followed by Notre Dame. Alabama now had the offensive team on the field and with seconds left, they could take the win, if Romeo successfully completed the last phase.

  I tried not to look as the players took their positions, but I couldn’t help but peek through the small gaps in my hands covering my eyes. The ball popped back to Romeo and he retreated three strides, searching for an open player. Austin was immediately blocked by two defenders; Chris Porter couldn’t get free, swarmed upon by the Dame defensive end.