Trouble: Rob & Sabrina: Boxed Set

by Selena Kitt

  “Fine.” I attempted a smile. “Just tired.”

  Which was true. I was exhausted. My brain wouldn’t shut off, no matter what I did.

  “Is someone meeting us?” No sooner had the words left my mouth than I saw Celeste hurrying up the walkway.

  “I’m so sorry I’m late,” she apologized. “The driver—these traffic circles—anyway, how was your flight?”

  “Long.” Rob grabbed my bag off the carousel, setting it between us. “The gang all here?”

  “Yesterday.” Celeste nodded, doing something on her Blackberry. “In fact—oh, there he is now.”

  Tyler came at Rob from behind, putting him in some wrestling hold. They grappled for a moment and I saw security watching, but it was over as quickly as it had started. They hugged, slapping each other on the back.

  “Man, it’s good to see you, bruh.” Tyler met my eyes over Rob’s shoulder and I saw his expression change, the sadness and shame creep into his eyes.

  “You too.” Rob gave him an extra squeeze and then let go.

  “Hey Sabrina.” Tyler rocked back on his Keds, hands going in his pockets. He looked like he expected me to hit him, but I was past all that. After seeing Katie and talking to her more in depth on the phone, I had a far better understanding of what had happened between them.

  “Hi Tyler.” I put my arms out for a hug. “Katie says hi.”

  He looked surprised, but he accepted and even hugged me back.

  “I’m really sorry,” he whispered, so only I could hear.

  “She misses you.”

  “I miss her too.”

  “How’s Ireland?”

  “Fucking grim. All it does is rain here, man.” He rolled his eyes, brushing a long bit of blonde hair from them. He hadn’t cut his. “It’s like Seattle with sheep and castles and shit.”

  “You look tired,” Celeste said, pulling the handle up on my carry-on. “Let’s get you to the hotel.”

  “I am tired,” I agreed, feeling Rob slip his hand into mine.

  Tyler grabbed Rob’s bag and we headed out of the airport building. A big, white stretch limo was parked at the curb, the driver holding the door open. Several people looked our way, probably wondering who we were to warrant a limo at an airport. I didn’t know if it was common in Dublin or not. Rob helped me into the car and I slid to the corner. He slipped in beside me, putting an arm around my shoulder.

  “So where are the guys?” Rob asked.

  “Kissing the Blarney Stone.” Tyler grinned.

  I laughed. “You’re kidding me?”

  “Nope.”

  “What time is it?” I asked, blinked out the window. Tyler was right. It was raining.

  “About nine in the morning,” Tyler replied.

  “It feels like the middle of the night,” I said.

  “Jet lag.” Celeste nodded knowingly. “You sure you’re all right?”

  “Just an upset stomach.”

  “When was the last time you ate?” she asked.

  “On the plane.” I made a face, remembering. “Some weird chicken thing. That was probably it.”

  “Well you don’t want to eat Irish food,” Tyler chimed in. “Mutton is disgusting.”

  “You sure you’re okay?” Rob looked concerned. “It’s not anything… serious?”

  “No.” I shook my head, eager to reassure him. “It just… cramps, I guess. I’m sure…”

  It occurred to me then that, unlike intestinal cramps, these were coming rhythmically. Every five minutes or so, in fact.

  “Is it the baby?”

  Everyone stopped.

  “I… don’t know.” I blinked at him, feeling a panic buzzing in my belly. Was it? Could it be?

  “Celeste, get Dr. Paxton on the phone,” Rob ordered. “Tell him to meet us at the hotel.”

  Rob carried me into the lobby. Celeste had already taken care of checking us in and we went upstairs in the elevator.

  “Still feeling it?” Rob asked as he put me on the bed.

  I nodded, wincing. It wasn’t unbearable, but it was… well, crampy.

  Rob felt my forehead, frowning.

  “I’m not sick, I’m just pregnant.” I pushed his hands away, rolling my eyes. “I’m sure if I just… owwww…”

  “Hey, here’s the doc,” Tyler announced.

  “I apologize. I was in the bath.” An oriental woman came in wearing a hotel robe and slippers, carrying a black bag.

  “I’m Dr. Paxton,” she said by way of introduction, sitting on the edge of the bed. “You’re Sabrina?”

  I nodded. Obviously—the only pregnant woman in the room.

  “So, you’re having contractions?” she asked, putting a hand on my lower belly.

  “I don’t know, what do contractions feel like?” I looked down at her small hand moving over my belly. “It’s just kind of like cramps. But they come and go.”

  “At regular intervals?”

  “Every five minutes maybe.” I shrugged, unsure.

  “I’m going to listen to baby’s heartbeat.”

  The Doppler required a bunch of the cold, blue goop on my belly, and I waited, anxious, while she ran the wand over my stomach, listening to the crackling sound until, finally, there it was, the gallop of my little girl’s heart.

  “Heartbeat sounds great.” She smiled reassuringly, wiping the stuff from my belly and helping me sit. She took my temperature and my blood pressure—both perfectly normal—watching as I winced through another mild cramp. They seemed better now that I was in a bed.

  “When was the last time you ate?” she asked.

  “Six or seven hours ago.”

  “And drank?”

  “I had some soda on the plane.”

  She frowned, shaking her head. “Water?”

  “Ummm…” I looked at Rob and he shrugged and shook his head.

  “You’re dehydrated.” She put the Doppler and goop back into her bag. “That can cause contractions. Your uterus gets irritable when you haven’t had enough to drink.”

  “Kind of like me.” I snorted.

  “Exactly.” She smiled. “So, drink up.”

  Tyler handed me a bottle of water from the fridge.

  “Drink that and two more,” she said, standing and picking up her bag. “Rest for a while on your left side. And call me if they get longer, stronger and closer together.”

  “Thank you.” I called. “Sorry we interrupted your bath!”

  She just smiled and gave us another wave as she headed out the door.

  “Okay, you heard the doctor, everyone clear out.” Celeste ordered, although I don’t know who she was ordering, because it was only her and Tyler.

  Rob came to the bed carrying two more bottles of water. He stood over me, making me drink them until I complained.

  “I’m going to have to pee like a racehorse after this!” I cried, gulping down the second.

  “Okay, Secretariat, just drink.”

  When I laid down on the bed, my belly was so full of water, I sloshed, and it made me laugh. Rob snuggled up behind me, his hand resting protectively over my lower belly as we spooned together on the bed and drifted off.

  I woke up, disoriented, unsure of where I was, and then I remembered. I heard Rob’s deep, even breathing in my ear. Ireland. We were in Ireland. I smiled, closing my eyes, realizing I could have been anywhere in the world. I was in Rob’s arms and that was all that mattered.

  “How are you now?” he whispered, kissing the side of my neck.

  “Better.” It was true. I didn’t feel sick or even tired anymore. And I hadn’t felt any cramping or contractions since I’d awoke.

  “You scared me, baby.” He had a catch in his voice, his arm tightening around me. “Don’t do that.”

  “Sorry,” I apologized. “Didn’t mean to. Besides, it wasn’t me, it was her.”

  “Stop it, Esther,” Rob said, rubbing my belly. “You’re trouble already.”

  I laughed. “Just like her daddy.”

&nb
sp; ~*~

  “They hated it.” I sat in the chair on our patio overlooking Milan, too depressed to really appreciate the view.

  “No, it was my fault,” Rob insisted. “I should have waited until we were back in the states. They’re just in tour mode. They’re not even thinking about the next album.”

  “But all the songs need to be written.” I picked up a tomato out of the bowl the staff had left, taking a big bite. I had been craving all things tomato for weeks and they’d brought a whole big bowl full. I ate them like apples, and I’d never had a tomato that tastes as good as the ones I’d eaten in Europe.

  “Yeah, I know.” Rob watched as tomato juice dripped down my chin “The band seems to think songs magically appear out of thin air.”

  “Anyway, they hated it.” I grabbed a cloth napkin from our breakfast setting, catching the juice before it stained my shirt. “They hate me.”

  “They don’t hate you.” He shook his head, rolling his eyes.

  “I’m Yoko Ono.” I took another big bite of tomato, chewing loudly.

  “You can be my Yoko Ono if you want.” He laughed, coming over and pulling me out of my chair and into his arms.

  “I don’t want to be Yoko!” I wailed, pouting. “Want a bite of my tomato?”

  “Blech. I don’t know how you can eat them like that.” He made a face. “And if being Yoko means you’re my inspiration, then fuck ‘em, because you are.”

  I sighed, resting my head against his chest, hearing the knock on the door and ignoring it.

  “Let’s just stay here.”

  “In Milan?”

  “Mm hmm. I love it here.”

  “You say that about everywhere we go.”

  “Not Ireland,” I countered. “And England wasn’t that great. But I could live in Sweden or Italy.”

  “Rob?” The muffled voice belonged to Celeste and I sighed, letting Rob go answer the door while I sat and finished my tomato.

  “Thanks, Celeste,” Rob said from inside. The patio door was open, and I could hear the drift of their conversation. “What did he say?”

  Celeste’s voice was too low for me to catch all the words. I knew I shouldn’t, but I moved closer, standing by the door so I could listen.

  “Sonofabitch,” Rob swore under his breath. “When do we find out?”

  “The court date is next week,” Celeste replied. “We should know for sure then.”

  “But otherwise, she’s fine with the rest?”

  “You know she’s asking for the moon, so this drags out forever,” Celeste told him. “She doesn’t want you to marry Sabrina.”

  “I don’t care what she wants.” I knew that tone. That was Rob wanting what he wanted.

  “What if…” Celeste cleared her throat. “What if you agreed?”

  “Are you out of your mind?” Rob snapped. “Over my dead body.”

  Agreed to what? I wondered.

  “It was just a thought.” She sighed. “Here’s your phone.”

  Celeste had his phone on tour for safe keeping. It made me blush, remembering how many texts I’d sent him while he was on tour. Thank God I’d never sent him anything too risqué. We’d only done that when we were alone, via Skype. Ironically, if Celeste hadn’t been sick that weekend in Detroit, Rob and probably never would have met in the first place. She kept him organized, in line, and on task.

  “Rehearsal is at noon. You’ll be there?”

  “We’ll be there,” he assured her.

  “We?” Celeste asked. Of course, she knew he meant us—me and Rob. But I understood her tone immediately. She ran interference between Rob and the band all the time. Clearly, they didn’t appreciate me hanging out at rehearsal either.

  I slipped away from the door, going over to lean on the stone ledge. Below us, the city was spread out like a dream. It was stunning. I wondered how the band had been with Catherine, when she’d travelled with Rob. Had they liked her? Had they complained when she went to rehearsals with him? Of course, none of them ever said anything to me, or in front of Rob.

  Tyler, of course, was the exception. He thought I was okay.

  “Come on, Yoko, let’s write.” Rob came back out onto the patio, slipping behind me and sliding his arms around my waist, covering my belly, as they always did.

  “Why bother?” I sighed. “They’re going to hate it anyway.”

  “I don’t hate it.” He kissed my cheek, rocking me back against him, taking my weight in his arms.

  “What good is that going to do you if the rest of Trouble won’t record what you write?” I asked softly, glancing back at him.

  “Well maybe I’ll go solo then,” he replied, raising his eyes at my look of surprise. “What? Everyone will say it’s about time.”

  “You aren’t serious?”

  “Maybe.” He shrugged.

  “Oh my God.” I startled, blinking in surprise at the sudden flurry of activity below my navel. “What the hell?”

  “What?” Rob looked concerned. “What’s the matter? Is it the baby?”

  “Yes.” My eyes widened as it happened again, but I was quick to erase that horrified look on his face. “No, no, it’s not bad. Feel.”

  I guided his hands to the place where I’d felt it the strongest.

  “What—?” Rob started but I cut him off.

  “Shhh. Just wait.”

  And there it was. She was kicking, moving and squirming in there. Rob’s eyes brightened, going wide.

  “That’s really Esther?” he exclaimed. “I guess she really likes those tomatoes!”

  “We’re not naming her Esther.” I laughed. “But yes, that’s her.”

  Rob dropped to his knees in front of me, pressing his cheek to my belly and closing his eyes. She had grown quiet again.

  “Talk to her,” I said.

  “Hi baby,” he murmured. “Hi Esther, it’s Daddy.”

  Nothing.

  “Sing to her,” I suggested, running a hand through his hair.

  Rob met my eyes, starting to sing the song we’d just been working on.

  One night, one life, one breath, one heart, one fire, one light, one love—

  A light so strong, there can be no night…

  The baby went crazy for it, her daddy’s biggest fan already, making me laugh and Rob’s eyes light up with wonder.

  “You’re going to be the best father,” I said when Rob stood and took me in his arms, swinging me and kissing me soundly on the mouth.

  “No pressure.” He snorted.

  “You are.” I insisted.

  “I hope so.” His hand moved between us, covering my belly. “I’m going to write a song about her. And sing it to her every night.”

  “Well let’s finish this one first, Mozart.” I laughed.

  “You got it, Yoko.” He took my hand and led me back inside where our music and guitars waited and before I knew it, we were in our own little world again, me and him, and nothing else mattered or even existed.

  Chapter Eleven

  Germans loved Trouble. We’d drawn in big crowds in Ireland and Italy, and an even bigger one in England, but the number of people in Germany far surpassed anything I’d ever experienced in the U.S. Back home, bands played in big venues where people sat in seats and there was a limited amount of space. Here, Trouble was playing a whole city. The “stage” was set up in the center of a town square that spilled over into a huge park. By the time the show was ready to start, it was standing room only and you couldn’t see even a hint of the grass they were all trampling.

  “How do you even sell tickets to a thing like this?” I wondered aloud at Celeste as we sat “backstage.” They had erected tents on either side of the staging area and the stage itself was covered with an awning, in case of rain. Rob paced, prowling back and forth, a water bottle in his hand. He was like this before every show. I was used to it.

  “Well, they did put up fences,” she said, looking up from her Blackberry. “But I heard they busted through them earlier today.”r />
  “It was like this the first time we were here,” Tyler piped up. He was sitting with his back to a post playing Flappy Bird on his phone, waiting for the roadies to clear the set after the opening act. I had tried it once and had given up after a few minutes. It was impossible, but it kept Tyler’s mind busy, which was what he needed before a show, or he got hyper. “Do you remember, Rob?”

  “Huh?” Rob stopped at the sound of his name.

  “The year we opened for U2,” Tyler reminded him, not looking up from his game. “Remember? They broke through the fences. They were climbing the light posts.”

  “Yeah.” A hint of a smile appeared on Rob’s lips. “That was our first album. We were the opening act.”

  “I saw that show!” I exclaimed. “Not in Germany. I saw it in the U.S. Katie’s dad got us tickets to see U2. That was when we fell in love with Trouble.”

  “Who would have thought, huh?” Tyler did look up from his game then, a smile spreading across his face. I knew he was thinking about Katie—I’d talked to her and knew the two of them were talking again. And according to Celeste, Tyler had curbed his wayward ways to monk standards. No drugs, no girls, not even any alcohol. And he was talking to Katie every night, which made Katie cautiously happy, as far as I could tell from four thousand miles away.

  “Yeah, what are the odds?” Rob smiled down at me, reaching for my hand. I let him pull me in close, slipping my arms around his neck as he dipped his head to kiss me. “How’d I get so lucky?”

  “We’ve sure had a lot of happy little accidents,” I whispered, nuzzling his neck.

  “Hey, get a room, would ya?” Nick, Trouble’s shaved bald, tattooed drummer, nudged by us.

  Of course, he would catch us making out before the show. I tried to disengage but Rob held me fast, just making it worse as Jon, Trouble’s tall, long-haired keyboardist and Kenny, Trouble’s bass player, came around the corner and joined us. Since Rob had insisted I be backstage at every show, they’d started coming later and later. I was sure they all hated me, although we hadn’t said much more than “hi” to each other in passing since the tour started, and I couldn’t figure out why.

  I’d tried, I really had. Celeste, with Tyler’s help, had even attempted, on a few occasions, to bring us all together. She’d organized several things—a walking tour in Ireland, the Vasa Museum in Sweden, even visiting Buckingham Palace in England, but it was no use. Nick, Kenny and Jon didn’t want to have anything to do with me, no matter how nice I was, no matter how much I went out of my way to ease their minds that I had no evil plans to steal Rob away from Trouble.