He is not getting up. This might be it, ladies and gentlemen. Carey Valentine is not getting up.
Carey pulls his knees under him and falls over again.
Seven…eight…
“He’s done, he’s done!” Miles shouts, charging the ring.
Ten! the referee shouts, and the arena goes crazy, flooding my ears with screams and cheers.
The fight is over and Sam Cole has regained his title as the light-heavyweight champion of the world!
I close my eyes and drop my head, feeling Miles and Tristan’s arms around me. “You did it, baby! You did it!”
I lift my heavy arms and hug Tristan. “This was you, it was all you.”
Ladies and gentlemen, the announcer says over the arena speakers, from Madison Square Garden in New York City, at three minutes and two seconds into the final round, your winner by knockout, the light-heavyweight champion of the world…Sam.…Cole!
Everyone shouts and crowds into the ring around me. Miles holds my arm up, and I put my gloves in the air as Mikey and Leon wrap the heavy belt around my waist. The cameras move in, getting close-ups of me, and I can only think of one thing. Lucy.
“Call Lucy,” I say to Miles over the noisy crowd and the pounding inside my chest. “Call Lucy!”
He pulls his phone out of his pocket and makes a concerned face when he looks at it. He looks up at me and Tristan. “Come on, let’s get to the dressing room. Move,” he shouts to the people around us. “Sam, come on,” he says, leading me and the rest of the team down out of the ring.
I hold my gloves up and smile for the cameras that follow us through the arena, until we’re alone in the dressing room.
Miles closes the door behind us.
“What is it, Miles?”
“Hold on,” he says, holding his phone to his ear. “I couldn’t hear out there. I got a message from Sebastian.” He listens with the same concerned look on his face.
Tristan grabs my sore shoulder and squeezes it. “They probably couldn’t wait to congratulate you.”
Miles lowers the phone and gives me a panicked look. “Lucy’s in labor.”
I blink at him a few times and shake my pounding head. “What? No, that’s not right. She can’t be.”
He puts the phone on speaker and plays the message again.
Miles, it’s Sebastian. When the fight’s over, I need you to have Sam call me. Lucy’s in labor. We’re on our way to the hospital now…
Not until the fight’s over, Lucy says in the background, and my drained heart races inside my aching chest.
After the fight, have him call me, Sebastian reiterates.
“Get these fucking gloves off me now,” I shout to anyone within reaching distance. “Come on!” I shout, holding my gloves out. Tristan quickly begins to unlace them. “Call him back now,” I say to Miles. “Put it on speaker.”
Miles calls him and holds the phone out in front of me while it rings. “Miles?” Sebastian answers.
“Sebastian, its Sam. What’s happening? Where’s Lucy?”
“Sam, thank God. You need to come home. Get a flight as soon as you can. I think she’s going to have this baby tonight.”
“How long has she been in labor?” I ask, shocked.
“Since before the fight. Her water broke during the fourth or fifth round. I can’t remember, it’s all running together.”
“Her water broke?” I ask, panicked.
“Yes! We’re on our way to the hospital now. She’s been having really strong contractions.”
“Put her on the phone.”
“Hold on.”
“Sam?” Lucy cries into the phone.
“Hi, baby. Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” she says unconvincingly.
“I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have left. If I had known—”
“You won.” I hear the smile in her voice, which resonates deep inside my aching chest. “You did it, Sam. I’m so proud of you.”
I close my eyes over the conflicting feelings of joy and angst. “I’m coming home, Luc, just try to hold on for me. I want to be there so bad.”
“I know. I want you here too.” Her voiced trembles.
Tristan tugs my gloves off, and I take the phone in my wrapped hand and hold it up to my ear. “I’ll get there as fast as I can.”
“Just try to hurry.” She stifles a cry. “I need you.”
I swallow the guilt that’s choking me. “I will. I love you, Lamb.”
There’s silence.
“Lucy?”
Ahhhh, I hear her cry away from the phone.
“Lucy?”
“She’s having another contraction,” Sebastian says, and my heart pounds inside my chest.
“Sebastian…”
“I know. Just…hurry, okay?”
“Okay.”
I hang up the phone and hand it back to Miles. “You have to find us a flight now. We have to leave.”
“Yeah, okay.” He makes another call.
I look at Tristan, who’s as shocked as everyone else in the room. “We have to go now, where’s my bag?”
Miles holds his phone away from his mouth and says, “This is going to take a few minutes, go get a shower.”
“I don’t care about a shower!”
“Go take a shower.” He nods toward the bathroom. “You can’t meet your baby girl looking like that.”
I exhale a frustrated breath and hold my hands up in front of Tristan. “Cut the tape off.”
He pulls me over to a chair and sits me down, then he works to get the tape off. “You’ve got to get checked by the doctor before we go. It’s regulation.”
“Well, where the hell is he?”
“I’ll go get him.” He finishes cutting the tape off my hands and then goes to get him.
I open and close my sore fingers a few times, eyeing my red knuckles.
Leon grabs my face and turns it from side to side. “Your cheeks are a little red, but your face looks okay. I don’t see any swelling.”
Tristan returns with the doctor, who steps beside Leon and says, “Why don’t you let me take a look?”
“Hey, doc, I feel fine,” I say, eager to get in the shower, but he takes his time with the examination. He looks in my eyes and ears, he checks my reflexes, he feels my ribs. Finally he looks at Tristan, who’s watching intently, and says, “All clear, he looks good.”
“Thanks, doc,” Tristan says, shaking his hand.
“Much better than last time,” he says to me, giving me a slanted look.
“You should have seen the other guy,” I groan, getting up.
“I did.”
I roll my eyes and head for the shower.
“You need any help?” Tristan asks.
“No, I’m good. I’m tired, but I feel okay.” Besides the sudden burst of adrenaline and anxiety that’s still pulsing through my veins.
“All right, I’ll get you some ibuprofen and some water. I’ll put it on the counter. Take it when you get out.”
“Okay.” I take off my shorts and look at myself in the mirror. My hair is wet with sweat and there are red marks on my face and chest, but no blood or cuts. I close my eyes and inhale a slow breath. This is not how I wanted to meet my daughter. I open my eyes and turn on the water. When it’s barely warm, I step in.