Rise (Roam Series, Book Three) Read online

  “Hey, you okay?”

  “Yeah,” I sniffed, brushing at the tears with my fingertip. “I just… really hope… that Eva will be the kind of big sister… that Morgan is to me.”

  His hands slid down to my upper arms, and continued down my sides. Thumbs over my abdomen, his dark blue eyes warmed like the evening summer sky.

  “When?” His voice, so filled with love, consumed my heart.

  “March.”

  He laced his fingers through mine and found, for the first time, that they were still.

  Epilogue

  “Okay, just listen to my voice, but don’t open your eyes.”

  Immediately, I opened my eyes.

  West dove to kiss my lips, even through my inevitable smile. “I said closed!”

  “They’re closed,” I replied, grinning at him and gazing into his eyes.

  He shifted around to my side, his hand cradling my protruding stomach. “Terrible actress.”

  I laced my fingers through his, feeling our son press gently against the heat of his palm. “Good morning.

  “Good morning, baby,” he caught my lips again, and then lowered his face to my belly. “Good morning, baby,” he whispered, and then I closed my eyes, smiling and turning into the pillow.

  “I have to get up,” I moaned dramatically. “He’s playing hopscotch on my bladder. Where’s Eva?”

  “Violet and Laurel took her dress shopping. Violet has an appointment at the bridal store at nine, and then they’re going out to lunch.”

  “Red Robin again?” I leaned forward on my elbows, trying to remember what my toes looked like. The tray on the bed next to us teetered, and I noticed waffles (my current obsession), strawberries, milk, and a lily.

  “Of course, it’s her favorite.”

  “Thank you for this,” I threaded my fingers through his hair, smiling. “Breakfast in bed.”

  “I know, crumbs in the sheets,” he winked. “I at least needed to make the gesture. I’ll carry the tray back downstairs.”

  “I swear this OCD only got worse with pregnancy.” I waited until he safely placed the tray on the dresser. “So, we have Saturday all to ourselves? For our first Valentine’s Day?”

  “Just you,” he pushed me back against the pillow with an adoring kiss, “me…,” he dropped next to me, wrapping his arm over my waist. “… and Thor.”

  I burst with feigned disgust, amused but heartily joining into our new favorite game. “See, now, last night before I went to bed, I was thinking… Darth.”

  “What’s wrong with Elvis again?”

  “I still don’t see a problem with Einstein.”

  He chuckled, tracing his finger over my inner arm. “Well, it’s your turn. I got to name Eva.”

  “Maybe if you’d tell me your middle name, I’d know what to call our son.”

  He sighed, raising his eyebrows. “It doesn’t matter, I dropped it a long time ago.”

  “Because…?”

  “Because I don’t deserve to be named after a saint.”

  My first clue. Pressing my lips together, I raised my eyes to the rustic beams in the vaulted ceiling. “So, it’s Theresa, then?”

  He tackled me with kisses, and I couldn’t suppress the giggle in my throat. “No.”

  “If I tell you something that I’ve never told you before, about myself, will you tell me your middle name?”

  He stopped his kiss-assault, pulling away. “Absolutely. I demand to know everything about you.”

  “Demand?” I shot him my haughtiest look. “Wrong word.”

  “I want to know everything about you,” he softened, and I nodded once.

  “Better.” I brushed my hair away from my eyes. “Deal, Mr. Perry?”

  “Deal, Mrs. Perry.”

  I bit my lip, shifting uncomfortably. “I lied to you.”

  He stiffened, his face falling. “What?”

  “I lied to you about something… and I’m afraid that you’ll think… less of me… if I tell you the truth.”

  He sat up on one elbow, his crisp, white tee-shirt bunching slightly at his stomach. “What is it, Roam?”

  I swallowed hard, letting tears fill my eyes. “Do you remember when we went out to eat in Emerald Isle, the first time?” He nodded. “Well, I…. I…,”

  “You’re worrying me.” His commanding voice almost broke my resolve and curled my lips into a smile, but I managed to hold back.

  “Oh, West… it’s Indiana Jones. My favorite movie isn’t Das Boot… it’s Indiana Jones and The Last Crusade.”

  He stared at me for a second and a half before falling to the pillow, laughter from deep in his chest thoroughly entertaining me. “Jesus Christ Roam, you scared the shit out of me.”

  “Don’t curse in front of him!” I flattened my palms over my wide stomach, and he shook his head.

  “Why?” He demanded, brushing his hand over my hair. “Why that movie?”

  “Well, for one, he’s not trying to get the cup for his own selfishness. He’s just trying to save his father. Two,” I tilted my head, “I love the take on history. And three… I’ve had a crush on Harrison Ford for as long as I can remember.”

  He narrowed his eyes, and I shrunk back playfully.

  “Harrison Ford.”

  “Yes.”

  “Hmn.” He held his hand up, pointing to the coordinates running along his inner forearm. “I have magic coordinates on my arm. All he has is a whip. Does that give me an edge?”

  I grinned. “I have a thing for hot men who like history. I was doomed from the start.”

  “Das Boot.” He laughed, climbing from the bed. “I should have known. You hesitated before you chose that movie.”

  “Your turn!” I demanded, sitting up slowly. My stomach, hardened and resting on my thighs, burdened my back uncomfortably. “Name. Now.”

  He walked to me and held his hands out, and I took them, letting him pull me to my feet. “It’s Christopher.”

  I smiled slowly at his chest, raising my face to his. “The patron saint of safe travels.”

  He wrapped his arms around me. “I almost forgot that you’re my little Catholic girl.”

  “That’s perfect,” I traced his jaw with my fingertips. “That is his name, West.”

  He pressed his lips to my forehead. “Christopher Perry.”

  “Yes.”

  “Eva and Christopher.” He smiled, his blue eyes sparkling in the morning sunshine streaming through the window. “You’re right.”

  “I usually am.”

  “I love you.” He tucked my face against his chest, kissing the top of my head. “With everything that I am, Roam.”

  I sighed into his strong chest, sliding my fingers over his back. “I love you more.”

  Thank God he was holding me. As the stinging began in the tip of my left index finger, I closed my mind, trying to convince myself it wasn’t happening.

  A second later, I was on fire.

  The acidic burning arched my back as I contorted, and he knew right away that my numbers were changing.

  “Hold on,” he breathed, gripping me to him, widening his palm over my belly. “Roam, hold on, it’ll be over soon, baby-…,”

  I screamed, trying to drop to my knees. He was moving me back to the bed before I could fathom what was happening

  “Breathe, breathe-…,”

  “West!”

  Already the pain was dissipating, but I was hyper-aware of the dampness beneath me.

  “Are you okay? Goddamnit I wish he could call first,” he hissed, referring to Logan.

  “He’s in Afghanistan, West,” I touched the bed, holding my hands up. Clear. Thank God. “My water broke, I think.”

  “Unless he had to suddenly leave, he could have called- what?”

  “My water. Broke.” I sat back up, rubbing the sting out of my arm. “I don’t have any pains. But we need to go to the hospital.”

  He was already flying around the room, gathering my readied bag and shifting through
my closet.

  “Calm down, it’s not like last time,” I shook my head, realizing suddenly that the baby felt very low. “I’m not in labor yet.”

  “Vi- her water broke,” he spoke into his phone before I even realized he’d dialed. “No- yes. We’re going now. Thanks. Love you.”

  “West.” I touched his elbow, and he turned to me quickly. “Calm, remember? I need it to be calm.”

  Breathe. Breathe.

  “Calm,” he repeated, nodding.

  “I don’t want to faint,” I pulled air in through my nose and exhaled slowly, forcing myself to smile. “Everything will be perfect.”

  “You’re right.” He deliberately slowed, gesturing to my closet. “What do you want to wear?”

  “I’ll get dressed. Please call Morgan and my dad.”

  “Right.”

  During the twenty minute drive to the hospital, I did my best to engage him in conversation and keep him from running every stop sign and red light. “I think this might be my favorite nineties song,” I began, waiting for him to take the bait.

  He turned his eyes on me, incredulous. “Will Smith. Miami.”

  “I can just feel the sunshine on my face,” I defended, and he shot me a look, immediately reaching for the radio.

  “I’ve never been more disappointed in my immortal life,” he declared, finally finding the CD he was looking for. “Listen.”

  “If you put on Hootie and the Blowfish again, I’m getting out of this moving vehicle.”

  “Listen,” he retorted, smirking.

  The music began, and I rested my head on the seat, recognizing the beginning of a faint pain in my lower back. I thought about the small cottage in Emerald Isle, in 1955, and almost began to hyperventilate at the memory of Eva’s natural birth.

  “Is this Nirvana?”

  “All Apologies.”

  “I like this better than the Teen Spirit one.” I swallowed hard, gripping the door of the Lexus. “Okay, I’m getting uncomfortable.”

  He turned the music down, pulling onto the highway. “Breathe. Your doctor is already there, waiting. The anesthesiologist is ready for the epidural.”

  I focused on the remnants of snow along the road, nodding. My mind began wandering to the castle, and I erected the brick wall visualization that the psychiatrist had suggested. Permit yourself to think about it, but not when you’re already under real stress.

  “Hey.” He covered my wringing hands. “One thing at a time.”

  “I know,” I took a steadying breath.

  The hospital staff had me in a wheelchair and smothered me with knowing, excited grins the moment I arrived. I was tucked into a bed and hooked up to monitors, and as soon as I could hear Christopher’s heartbeat, my breathing slowed.

  “Only two weeks early. Healthy and strong,” the nurse adjusted my IV, winking. “Dad could use a little encouragement.”

  I turned to West, watching him dart from machine to machine. “What is this one? What are these lines?”

  “These are her contractions. See, she’s having one right now,” the nurse indicated a minor spike in the line graph.

  “I don’t feel it,” I smiled, waving him to me. “West, just sit down with me. Please.”

  “I need to know what all of this means,” he pointed to the lights in the ceiling. “Spotlights?”

  “For show time,” the nurse patted him on the shoulder. “She’s in good hands, Mr. Perry.”

  Six hours later, after walking the halls of the hospital with West non-stop, I waited for Dr. Fairfield to examine me.

  “Only four centimeters.” She sighed, raising her eyes to the monitor again. “We’ll need to induce you, and get things moving along, okay?”

  “Induce her with what?” West was already in deep conversation with the doctor. I glanced down at the coordinates on my arm, wishing Logan would have been home for this. I missed his easy, playful nature, and his sense of humor.

  Minutes after the first dose of medication, the contractions worsened. I watched the anesthesiologist wheel a cart into the room, and I began shaking, knowing what was coming.

  “Wait- wait, no, I changed my mind,” I turned my head to West, and he cupped my face in his hands.

  “Roam, if they don’t give you the epidural now, they may not be able to later. It’d be too late.”

  “I don’t want it,” the thought of the needle and catheter in my back was worse than the memory of giving birth to Eva.

  “Are you sure?”

  I nodded, tears burning my eyes for the first time since we arrived. Another contraction began to build, and he gripped my hand, talking to me softly.

  “You did this once, and I know you can do it again, baby.”

  “This is your second birth?” The anesthesiologist asked, dropping his eyes to the chart in his hand.

  “Sort of,” I groaned, West’s knuckles cracking beneath the force of my grip.

  “No epidural. She’s changed her mind.” West said without looking away from me. “You can do this, Roam.”

  “Don’t leave me,” I replied, breathless.

  Within an hour, I was in heavy labor. Ever three minutes, I bit back the pain, focusing on West’s face. My dad and Morgan came in from the waiting room for only a few minutes, promising they were only seconds away if I needed them.

  “No epidural. You’re a beast, Socrates,” Morgan squeezed my hand, turning to West. “Get me if she needs me.”

  “I will, Morgan.”

  The pain became intense, and the doctor asked me if I wanted medication.

  “No,” I turned to West, brushing at the tears with the back of my hand. “Teach me something.”

  “What?” He looked distraught. I growled, pressing the back of my head to the pillow.

  “Teach me something!” I shouted, and he looked at the nurse who entered the room helplessly.

  “What year?”

  “19… 67… ow, God,” I cringed, and he began moving his hand over my lower back in circles.

  “The… Vietnam War… Johnson is president… oh, the first heart transplant,” he remembered suddenly.

  “In South Africa,” Dr. Fairfield added, moving into the room efficiently. “How are we doing, Roam?”

  “We’re miserable.” West answered for me.

  “Are we breathing?” She gestured to her chest, taking a deep, exaggerated breath. “Don’t hold it. I’ll put you on oxygen.”

  “I’m breathing,” I leaned back to the bed, bending my knees. Suddenly, the feeling was there- just as I remembered it- and I could tell that the doctor knew it, too.

  She spoke to the nurse, and in a flash all hands were on deck. The overhead lights slid on brightly, and I looked nervously to West. “I need to push,” I admitted, that wash of pain and fear slightly less intimidating than before. I know what’s coming.

  And it’s all worth it.

  Twenty excruciating minutes later, I held Christopher Logan Perry in my arms.

  West accepted the honorable responsibility of cutting the cord, and I sobbed through my son’s first cries. Morgan and my dad came in, and then Violet and Laurel were there, and West was glued to the warming table with Christopher while Eva ran to my side.

  “Mommy, is he here?”

  “He’s here, Eva,” I gathered her into my arms, hugging her as she stood next to my bed. “You’re a big sister,” I added, kissing her curly, red hair.

  She pursed her lips, her bright green eyes clouding indecisively as she held her hands over her ears. “Why is he so loud?”

  “Because he’s breathing,” West appeared behind her, pulling her into his arms. “And he’s not happy about how cold it is out here.”

  “He’s beautiful,” Violet stood with Morgan near the door, stealing glimpses of Christopher. “I can’t wait to hold him!”

  “Grandpa before Aunt,” my dad warned, smiling lovingly at me.

  “Sister before Aunt,” Violet threatened, and Morgan tossed her an I’ll-race-you smirk.


  “Daddy before anyone,” I whispered, watching the nurse carry Christopher to his father.

  West lowered Eva to me, and I hugged her as he held his son for the first time. Morgan, Violet, and my father quietly left the room.

  West raised his eyes to me, and I smiled to see them blurred with tears.

  “Thank you, Roam.”

  His words warmed my heart, and I pressed my face into Eva’s hair.

  Our son sighed, and I raised my face to meet my husband’s kiss.

  ROAM SERIES

  ROAM

  FALL

  RISE

  RUSH

  RULE

  REIGN