“I know. I’m going to do it when we get back.” I look up at the crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling in the two-story living room and say, “I love this room.”
“This”—he glances around the open space, which is encased in glass, clean lines and rich colors—“is not a room, it’s an apartment. For like, famous people.”
I laugh. “Like Sam?”
“Yeah, and I hear he has this really cool, really fun, really pretty fiancée who’s staying here too.” He taps his finger against his chin. “Lucy something.”
“Want some help with your tie?” I ask, ignoring him.
“What’s wrong with my tie?”
I reach up and start tugging it into place. “It’s crooked.”
“Oh.” He stands still while I adjust it.
“I’m surprised no one’s come up with a couples name for you and Sam yet.”
“A couples name?”
“You know, like Bennifer or Brangelina.”
I scrunch up my face. “That’s because we’re not famous. At least, I’m not. And also because that’s stupid.”
He looks up to one side and I can see the wheels turning in his head. “What about Sucy?”
I roll my eyes, refusing to entertain him.
“Samucy? No, that sounds too much like Shamu,” he says to himself. “Lusam…Lum…Lam!” he says with excited eyes. “Lam,” he repeats.
“Absolutely not.”
“Lam, the new it couple.”
I ignore him and smooth his lapel. “I think all the Vegas glitz and glam has gone to your head.”
“But it’s perfect. Isn’t that what Sam calls you anyway?”
“He calls me Lamb,” I say quietly, as if someone besides Sebastian—the only other person in the room—might hear. “With a B. And you cannot call me”—I shake my head—“or us that. Like, ever. Okay? It’s weird.”
“Okay, okay.” He holds his hands up. “I’ll come up with something else.”
“No you won’t.” I point at him.
He grins and narrows his eyes. “I think this pregnancy is making you feisty. I like it.”
I sigh and put my hands on my stomach. “It’s not the pregnancy. It’s this fight. I’ve been on edge since the moment we arrived here.”
“Yes, I’m aware,” he whispers.
“Really? Is it that obvious?”
“Well, maybe not to everyone else, but I know you. And I know when something’s wrong.” He gives me an expectant look. “So are we going to talk about it?”
I look up at him and admit, “I just have a bad feeling, Bas. I don’t know why, maybe it’s some kind of weird pregnancy intuition, but I can feel it in my bones, like a loud warning vibrating through me.”
“Warning you about what?”
“Tonight. The fight.” I close my eyes and exhale an anxious breath. “I know I sound crazy.”
“You think Sam’s going to lose?”
I shrug. “I don’t know. I just don’t feel good about it.”
“Lucy, Brody Crawford is good, but Sam is better. Far better. He’s not going to lose tonight,” he says confidently.
“I’m not worried about him losing. I’m worried about him getting hurt.”
He gives me an empathetic look and puts his hands on my arms. “You’ve always worried about that, Luc. But that’s why he’s been training so hard. He’ll be fine.”
“He was upset this morning, Bas. He barely spoke on the flight here. I think going into the ring under the lights for the first time without Joe is dredging everything back up. I could see it in his eyes, festering away inside him. I just don’t know what to expect tonight.”
“You think he’ll lose his edge?”
“No. I think it’ll be ten times sharper.”
“Is that a bad thing?”
“Sebastian, before Joe, Sam used to get into fights all the time, usually over me. I know what happens when he fights with his heart instead of his head. He’s careless.”
Someone knocks on the door.
Bas hesitates, then crosses the room to answer it. “Hey, Miles.”
“You guys ready?” Miles asks, walking inside. His eyes light up when he sees me, but concern quickly takes over. “Sweetheart, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” I lie. “I’m ready.” I give him a small smile and grab my clutch off the couch.
He stares at me for a second. “You sure?”
“Yeah.”
“You look great. That’s a hell of a dress.”
“She looks like a pregnancy goddess,” Bas gushes, taking my hand. He spins me around to show Miles the back of my simple, backless black dress. It wraps over one shoulder and hugs my belly, which is no longer concealable, and falls all the way to my strappy stiletto-clad feet.
Miles raises one of his dark eyebrows and gives a subtle nod, but seems far more interested in the time. “Come on, we’ve gotta go.”
“You make seven months pregnant look hot,” Bas whispers to me, and I smile over my apprehension. He wraps my hand around his arm and we follow Miles out of the room.
* * *
The crowd is alive tonight at the legendary MGM Grand in Las Vegas…The younger, quicker fighter, Brody Crawford, vying for a belt he’s yet to claim…He’s got a hard fight ahead of him tonight…Sam Cole, the more seasoned boxer, is not ready to relinquish his title just yet…
He’s not ready to retire yet either, the other announcer says, and I give Sebastian a knowing look.
The arena rumbles with cheers. and my chest vibrates from the music echoing off the walls. I mindlessly rub my stomach, wondering if the music’s vibrating her too.
His pregnant fiancée, Lucy, is looking anxious for the fight to begin.
“Camera’s on you,” Bas says to me, and I smile reflexively.
Sam has said that he can’t wait to be a father…I sure hope it’s not a girl. One of the announcers laughs. God help the boy she brings home.
I try not to smile at the thought I’ve had a hundred times, but the corners of my mouth turn up defiantly.
The lights dim and the spotlights cascade across the crowd like rays of sunlight filtering through the dark. They move from one corner of the arena to the other, lighting each section to the beat of the music, which grows louder. My heart grows louder too, pounding away inside my chest against my will. I take slow, deep breaths and try to relax. He’s going to be fine, I repeat like a mantra, again and again.
Sebastian reads me and says, “He’s going to be fine.”
I nod and fight back the fear that retaliates when Sam begins to make his way toward the ring. My pulse races and pounds behind my ears when I see his new coach leading him through the crowd, and suddenly I’m caught in unexpected storm of grief and anxiety. I work hard to keep it off my face, but it’s so strong I could drown in it. “This isn’t right,” I say to Sebastian, who gives me a worried look. “He’s never fought without Joe.”
“He’ll be fine,” he says, but it does little to reassure me.