One Hundred Forty-Seven

“So when do you wanna get married?” 

Allegra was curled up on his chest in bed after a full day of her napping on the suite’s couch.  The sleepless night before and pregnancy fatigue had hit her hard today and, after the guys had cleared out, she just couldn’t keep her eyes open.  

Richie hadn’t minded.  He’d used the time to call Ava and his mother, send a few e-mails and made plans to detour through Hawaii on their way home. 

Ava was happy for them, and couldn’t wait until he got home so that she could see the ring.  What was it with everybody?  Did they not think he could pick out an engagement ring by himself?  Or was it just an ingrained woman thing to want to see the rock?  No matter.  It would only be a week and she could gawk at it all she wanted, and she wouldn’t be shy about voicing her approval – or disapproval. 

His mother said simply, “I’m glad.”  What did that tell him?  Ma thought he should’ve done it earlier, but didn’t want to be a buttinsky in his personal life.  He was grateful that she’d always been there for him, but that she seldom interfered without his invitation to do so.

“Mm.  I don’t know,” she said with a grimace, shifting uncomfortably.  “I guess I’ll find out what’s involved before I make that kind of decision.”  David had passed along Lexi’s congratulations along with her offer to bequeath all of her preliminary wedding research materials to Allegra.  As she and David were getting married in August, Lexi was now on the downhill side of planning.  “Do you have a preference?”

He frowned as she twisted again, looking uncomfortable.  Thankfully, she’d only had a little bit of cramping from the amniocentesis – so far anyway.

“Are you cramping again, baby?”

“Mm.  A little.”

He rolled onto his left side, easing her onto her back as he did.  “Here, let me see if I can help.”

Richie slipped his hand up under her nightshirt and rubbed soothing circles over her stomach with the flat of his hand.  It only took a minute or two until she hummed with contentment.

“Better?”

“Much, thank you.”  She snuggled back against him, kissing the center of his chest before nestling her cheek into it.  “So do you have a preference on when we get married?”

God, this feels good – my beautiful fiancée wrapped in my arms, mapping out our future together.

“I’d like to do it before the baby comes, if we can.  I don’t know how realistic that is with whatever planning you need to do, but I have August and most of September free, then the second half of October up until Thanksgiving.  After that I won’t be home until it’s time for Bug to make his appearance.”

She grinned up at him like he’d said something cute. 

“What?”

“You called the baby a boy that time.  Changing your mind?”

Had he?  Oh.  He guessed he had.  ‘His’ appearance.  Richie hadn’t consciously thought about what he’d been saying, it just popped out. 

“Would you like a little boy that’s just like you?” she asked curiously.

“Oh, fuck no!” he snorted.  His parents had been way more tolerant of an adolescent Richie than they probably should have, mostly because they had no idea what kind of trouble he could find.  He knew the trouble there was to get into and was often amazed that he was still alive.  “Maybe if he were more like you than me.”

But did he really want to butt heads with a testosterone laden teenager that had Allegra’s obstinate streak? 

“Honestly, I don’t care,” he finally said, stroking a lazy finger along her back.  “This baby will be perfect and well-loved no matter what gender it is.”

“Definitely loved, but perfect?  Well, I hope so.  I’m hoping all the tests come back with good results.  According to what the nurse told me, we should have news sometimes next week.”

Unless it was his imagination, she didn’t sound thrilled about it, which was why he didn’t want the fucking paternity test to start with.  If it didn’t come back proving he was the baby’s father…

“Hey.”  He shook her gently.  “You have to think positively.  This is our baby.  We have to have faith, Sunshine.”  Richie chuckled.  “Maybe that’s what we should name it, if it’s a girl.”

“What?  Faith?”

“Yeah,” he said enthusiastically, warming to the idea.  “You’re having trouble believing, but if you have a tangible Faith, it’s awfully damn hard not to believe.  Right?”

He found her laughter a little upsetting.  She wasn’t even pretending to take his suggestion seriously.

“Why don’t we wait and see if it’s even a girl before we start picking out names,” she suggested ever-so-sensibly.  “The baby’s gender will be included with the other test results, so we’ll know that next week too.  But even then, we have quite a while before he or she comes along.”

“Mm,” he mumbled neutrally.  Sometimes he thought she was intentionally avoiding the question of her faith – that she was being stubborn, not wanting to admit she might be wrong.  How was she supposed to truly be content with this part of her unsettled?

“But he or she will be getting bigger sooner, rather than later.  So, how does an August anniversary work for you?  I shouldn’t be too huge at that point.”

Subject adeptly changed.  Someday soon they were going to have another serious talk about this, but the last couple days – hell, months – had been trying enough.  He didn’t want to push her into another soul-searching conversation any more than he wanted to have one himself.

So he chose to talk about the wedding.  “Will you be able to plan what you want in that time?”

“Well, I know Lexi’s bestowing all this ‘pre-planning’ material upon me, but how much could there really be?  You find a church and a dress, send out invitations and buy a cake?  And maybe find a few pretty flowers to scatter around.”

Richie laughed.  She was blissfully ignorant as to all the wedding planning hoopla, and he loved it.  Maybe it wouldn’t be as big as a friggin’ royal wedding this time around, but he bet it would be a whole helluva lot more suited to his taste.

“Unless…”  She lifted her head and frowned at him.  “Did you get your marriage annulled by the Church?  Because if we have to wait for Heather to be cooperative enough to do that, Bug will old enough to drive before we can get married.”

That one came out of left field at him, surprising him more than it should have.  He hadn’t thought about an annulment being important to her, but it stood to reason.

“That’s important to you, huh?”

“Um, yes?  I’m a good Catholic girl – broken vow thing notwithstanding.  I may be in a snit with God at the moment, but I still want him to recognize the fact that we’re married.  If He doesn’t, it’s gonna make things kind of awkward in Heaven.”

He squeezed her hard, kissing her cheek hard enough to smoosh his nose against it.  “You are so damn cute when you’re practical,” he chuckled.

For some reason, she didn’t think it was quite as cute as he did, because humor was definitely not lighting up her face.  “Does this look like the face of someone who is amused?”

“No, that’s what makes it so cute.”  Thunderclouds started brewing in her eyes and he held his hands up in surrender.  “Especially since I didn't get married in the Catholic church.  No annulment necessary.”  He dipped his head, intent upon kissing the frown from her face.  “You pick a date and I’m there, Sunshine.”

She winced, reaching for her stomach, and said sourly, “You couldn’t have just said that in the first place?”

“I’m sorry,” he apologized contritely, sobering at her discomfort.  “Cramps again?”

Nodding, she rolled onto her side of the bed, curling into a ball.

Richie was curled behind her in an instant, his hand seeking to again rub the tension from her belly.  “Shhh, it’s okay Bug,” he murmured.  “Daddy’s just picking at Mommy.  We’re not mad.  Just relax, little guy.”

He stroked over and over repeatedly, whispering words of comfort to Allegra in an effort to ease her pain.  “Do you want a glass of wine?” he finally asked, when it seemed that nothing he was doing helped.

“No.”  The pillow rustled when she shook her head.   “I can’t get past the alcohol thing with the baby, no matter what he said.”

Richie silently agreed, but wasn’t sure what else to do.  The alternatives were limited.  “I have some Tylenol in my shaving kit.  How about a couple of those?”

“Is it in the bathroom?”

“Yeah.”  He flipped the covers back, anxious to have a productive task to accomplish.  “Let me grab it.”

“No.”  Allegra stopped him with a hand.  “I need to pee anyway.  I’ll go.”

Absently rubbing his chest, he watched the door close and waited.  Something he had eaten wasn’t agreeing with him and a bout of heartburn was kicking up.  Either that or last night’s whiskey was seeking its revenge.  It wouldn’t surprise him.  Smiling to himself, he thought that Allegra had undoubtedly cursed the Glenlivit as it slid down his throat.

That smile melted away when the bathroom door re-opened and Allegra appeared, white as a sheet.   Jumping up, he ran to her, afraid she was going to collapse before him.  “Baby, what’s wrong?”

Fear and uncertainty filled her eyes, which were as wide as saucers as she gripped him.   “I’m… I’m bleeding.” 

Shit.

“Just a little spotting?  Because, remember, he said that happens sometimes.”

He purposefully refrained from adding that Dr. Frawley had also said if it happened, they should get an ultrasound as soon as possible – to make sure the baby’s heart was still beating.  Allegra didn’t need help remembering that part. 

The burn in Richie’s chest kicked up a notch, further intensifying when she bent forward with another cramp. 

“It’s more than spotting.  Not much more, but its bright red.”  There was a pleading in the blue depths as she looked to him for strength.  “I’m going to lose the baby, aren’t I?”

Pushing past the impulse to vomit, he swept her up and put her on the bed, saying, “Of course not.  We’re going to run you over to the ER and let them check things out, but I’m sure Bug is just fine.  Here, baby, put on your jeans.”  The denim landed on her lap as he grabbed a t-shirt to go with his shorts and stuffed on a pair of shoes while dialing the front desk.

“Yeah, I need a limo or taxi by the back doors right away.  I have to get my fiancée to the hospital.”  Shoving his wallet into his pocket, his voice rose a little more than was probably necessary.  “No, I don’t want to wait for an ambulance.  Just get me a car, please, it’ll be faster.  Thanks.”

He hung up the phone and whirled around upon hearing her moan softly.  She was standing next to the bed, buttoning her jeans while sliding her feet into a pair of sandals.  “Baby, you shouldn’t be on your feet.”  Scooping her up, he strode for the door with her in tow.  He worked open the door with one hand, just barely remembering to backtrack and pick up her purse before they hurried out to the elevator.

“Richie, I’m scared,” she breathed into his ear as the floors ticked downward on the display.  “I know it wasn’t exactly a fairy tale beginning, but I want this baby.”

“So do I, Sunshine, so do I, and it’s gonna be okay.  I’ve got enough faith for both of us on this one.”

He hoped to God he did, anyway, because he was scared too.  Until the moment she’d stood in the bathroom door looking lost, he hadn’t realized exactly how much he wanted this with her.  Oh sure, he’d said the words they both needed to hear – that the baby was his, regardless and he didn’t care what a paternity test said.  All that was true, but now he knew how deep his commitment was.  For all intents and purposes, this was his baby.  Screw what anybody else said. 

And the paternity test he hadn’t fucking wanted was now threatening his baby’s life.

“How are the cramps?”  He asked to distract her as the doors slid wide.  His feet moved hurriedly, wasting no time in navigating them through the maze of back hallways that had become so familiar in the last month.  It was after eleven, and while the hotel was by no means deserted, the path to the lesser used rear-entrance was blessedly absent of both guests and fans.

“Worse, maybe?”  Richie felt her body tense again when she stifled a whimper as another one hit.  Her arms looped around his neck like a vice-grip. 

“You are not losing our baby,” he told her with no room for argument.  It wasn’t something he could even consider.  They were getting married.  Ava was going to be a big sister.  They were going to be a happy family, for God’s sake.  “That’s not going to happen, so get it out of your head.  You have to help me believe.”

The automatic doors swept open with a whoosh, and the early-summer air swept around them like a warm, reassuring hug from Mother Nature.  A hotel employee waited as a sentry beside the black Mercedes, holding the door in anticipation of their arrival. 

“Liam understands the importance of the situation sir,” the man assured Richie, as he ushered them in the vehicle.  “You’ll be at the hospital in no time.  Godspeed.”

The door had no more slammed shut, with them inside, when the Mercedes shot away from the curb.