Roman: Book 1 (25 page)

My fingers blur across the screen dialing Dr. Carol, on the first ring she answers, “Dr. Car—“

“Hey shut the hole in your face and listen. Have you spoken to Heather within the last hour? Do not speak unless it is to answer
MY
questions.”

“Ahh… Mr. Payne?”

“What. The. Fuck. Did. You. Not. Comprehend?” I spit through my gritted teeth.

“No, No sir, I-“ I hear the phone shuffle for a second, “It’s her beeping in, I’ll call you back in a moment.”

“You will fucking NOT! Answer the call, I’ll be on hold!”

The phone clicks and I violently pace back and forth in the small quarters I’ve cut a footpath through the carpet in over the past few weeks. I do the only thing I have done to keep calm since learning the name of my salvation.

I spell it over and over.

“W I N T E R I V Y—W I N T E R I V Y.”

The letters have been tattooed across my heart since the day first I heard the name of my angel, the only good thing I have ever brought into this world, the mecca of all things pure created by a sliver of Satan personified and the martyrdom of her mother’s saintliness.

When they ask me in Purgatory where do I believe I belong and why, I will tell them the Treacherous Circle of Hell, Dante’s ninth circle of Hell.

I had it all, and like a fucking fool I let it slip away.

“Dr. Payne?”

I fumble and almost drop the phone but continue pacing.

“Yes?”

“Your wife’s water ruptured about fifteen minutes ago, she took a shower—“

“She fucking what?” I growl.

“She took a shower, most women do, Dr. Payne, and you and I thank them for it, get out of daddy mode and into doctor mode.”

“I am in doctor mode, Daddy fucking doctor mode!”

“Oh good God, this is why, this is why they prohibit us to care for our own family members.”

She sighs.

“I’m headed to the hospital now, I’ll call you after I finish my admit assessment.”

My laugh is twisted and sardonic, “Carol, I’ll be in the doctor’s dictation, waiting, watching her fetal pulse across the strip as well as the admit notes while they are being entered into the computer. I’ll see you there, do not, fuck up!”

I shove my cell into the back pocket of my scrubs before sliding into my McLaren F1 and putting the petal to the floorboard, testing the rev limiters abilities, spraying gravel into the air on my way to the hospital.

Why did I leave Heather to deal with this all alone?

WHY
!

I should have been there, the entire time, I should have been there for the two of them, and I wasn’t.

I let her down, as always. I let her down.             

I charge, horses rearing, exhaust breathing ferociously, into the parking garage and power slide into a spot that isn’t reserved for me but someone else presently, slamming the car door upon exiting the car, I haul ass to the labor unit.

My Faragamo’s come to a screeching halt in the deserted nurse’s station and my eyes land on the board with one patient and one Fetal Heart Monitoring Strip on the entire unit.

Under ‘Patient List’ I read Heather Payne, Gravida 1 Para 0, GBS (-), Dilatation 8.5cm, Effacement 100%. Doctor: Carol.

All I gather of any importance from all of what I just read, I scream aloud, “She’s almost nine fucking centimeters?”

My focus shifts to Winter’s heart rhythm strip and instantly I feel my stomach drop, my heart break, and my mind fracture.

When a baby’s heart rate is not detectable on an internal fetal monitor that means one thing and one thing only.

My daughter is no longer alive inside her mother.

Rational thought leaves me and I run like the Hounds of Hell are on my heels.

As soon as I slam into the delivery room and hear Heather’s cries and laughter blend with the sound of our daughter’s wailing cries I thank God for the blessings I never have nor ever will deserve.

As a man, an evil sadistic monster who in all honesty should have been eradicated in his crib as an infant, I am still able to discern when luck, or fate has been kind to me.

When my eyes meet my daughters I realize that I am coming face to face with my savior and all I can do is whisper her name, “Winter.”

Dr. Carol is taking care of Heather, opposite Winter’s side of the curtain, giving me a chance to take in the new staples of my life.

I never intended to meet an angel, much less come close enough for her hand to grasp my pinky finger. Winter instantly wraps my entire being around hers when her fingers circle mine.

When I tell you my daughter is the most beautiful baby in the whole world, I say it as not only a doctor who sees baby after baby being born everyday, I say it because she completely is.

Winter Ivy is beauty derived from goodness and radiating from her tiny spirit.

Tears unabashedly stream down my dark, self destructive, sinful face as I stare in awe at this little piece of perfect I helped in creation. As I brush my lips across her forehead my tears drop, landing on her cheeks. Wiping my tears from her face, I whisper brokenly to her, “You’ll always be mine, baby girl, always. I never meant for you and I to meet, but fate and I haven’t ever really seen things eye to eye.” Winter’s cries go silent and I am left staring into eyes that reflect my own, and then…then she smiles up at me. “Winter, I promise you I am coming back for you and your momma. But until then, be a good girl and listen to what your momma says. Do as she tells you, princess. Please.”

I kiss every one of her ten fingertips, then the crown of her ink black head before turning to leave.

I have a new purpose. I know that now and nothing, no one will stand in my way of obtaining and securing my new purpose in life.

“Rome, it’s time you leave. You can’t keep coming in and out of her life. I allowed you to stay in her pool house until the baby was born, but now that you’ve meet her, it’s time you get your shit, and do what you know is best. I have her now. And unlike you, I will take care of her.

His every word is a stab through my heart. And when I turn to lock eyes with him, it dawns on me that this is the man.

I always knew there was an unknown factor hiding in the shadows. I just never expected him to be so damn close.

“Sebastian,” I nod. “How have you been?”

When the crippling pain wakes me, I could spit fire I’m so pissed at myself for spending the time showering, shaving from armpits to ankles, and then lathering Pink ‘fresh & clean’ lotion into every skin cell I own.

I showed up eight centimeters dilated, more fresh and clean than any other pregnant woman in the history of labor and delivery-ism, costing myself an epidural because of my impromptu shower, shave, and Brazilian blow out. However, when I see my daughter’s sweet face for the first time, nothing, and I mean nothing else in the universe mattered after our eyes locked.

She looks so much like Roman, it’s almost more than I can handle.

She’s beautiful. Her hair is thick and as black as a raven’s wing, her lips are pouty red, but it’s her eyes that captivate, holding me still and silent while I watch her sapphire eyes sparkle with flecks of silver.

Seb’s voice pulls me from my should-have-beens and could-have-beens, “I knew you two would kick ass like a phoenix rising from the ashes. Damn, darlin’, you’re Joan of arc in my book. I’ve never been more proud of anyone or anything else than I am right now.”

I smile without taking my eyes from Winter’s.

To anyone else in the room who cared to look, even they would miss the slight tremor wracking its way through me. From the pain slicing through my heart crashing with the euphoria and oxytocin flooding my veins as my daughter latches onto my breast.

“I wish Roman were here.” I whisper.

“I know you do, darlin’. I know.”

I sent Seb home disregarding his pleas to stay with us in the hospital overnight. If I can’t have Roman here with me, I don’t want a substitute. I’d rather spend this time alone with my daughter.

Sebastian’s one-sided affections are growing against my insistence for them to cease. He continues to insert himself into my life routine and while it does make some things easier, I would rather do this the hard way, alone.  I just can’t find it in my heart to tell him because I don’t know if I could handle watching the light in his eyes fade when I do.

He cares about me and Winter, and I appreciate the things he does to show he cares. I don’t know how long I’ll be able to play this charade though. With Roman gone I don’t have to bite my tongue and keep my thoughts and emotions in check and unspoken.

It doesn’t take me long to convert into the Mac I was before Roman seized all control and transformed her into Heather.

I revel in my old self. I bask in the newfound power Roman left me behind with. But still, something prevents me from shunning Seb’s presence and generosity. Call it my unwillingness to be alone in that enormous house, or maybe it’s the need to have some form of companionship, even if it isn’t with my husband and the father of my child. Sometimes a woman simply needs a male presence, it helps the nights go to bed.

This will never be love and no, he will never be my Roman… but he does help ease the pain. He does keep the loneliness at bay in the still of the worse nights by holding me when my unpredictable sobs begin…when he lays with me, it erases the hurt.

Sometimes, when a woman is left to live her life and raise her child without her soul mate, she must continue on. No matter how much she detests the thought of doing so, for the sake of her child and her own sanity, she must find a way, any fucking way to persevere, even if her heart breaks day in and day out. Even if the marrow of her bones, the soul she has locked and hidden away screams constantly how wrong it is on every visceral level.

Winter is six weeks old today. We’ve, her, Seb, and me have fallen into a routine which I must say, I adapted to easier than I thought I would.

After Winter fell asleep nursing, I stand from the rocking chair, carry her to her crib and lay her down before looking around at the nursery Seb meticulously painted.

My fingers brush the lamp base twice and the room goes dark. And like every night before I grab the baby monitor and head down stairs for a glass of milk.

After rinsing my glass and setting it in the dishwasher I head through the house quietly making my way to my room. When I walk into the living room the fire flickering off the dark walls catches me off guard and my steps falter at the sight of Roman’s silhouette outlined by the light of the fire standing at his full stature…glaring straight at me. His usual crisp white shirt is untucked, the sleeves unbuttoned and rolled up to his elbows.