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My mind races to understand what she’s talking about, and then it hits me. The blood, the crying, her position. The baby? “Is it the baby?” I choke out, reaching for the door to the shower.
“I think so,” she cries. “I’m so sorry.”
My heart pounds wildly in my chest. I don’t wait. I fling the door open, scoop her up and carry her to the bed. I get her dressed, phone down to the concierge to have a car brought around. Carl is traveling with us due to security issues in Peru, so I call him next. He meets us in the lobby.
Ophelia hasn’t said anything. Not a word. It’s like she’s in shock, and I don’t know how much blood she’s lost to know if this is normal.
Carl takes one look at Ophelia and his face whitens, a frown deepening the lines in his forehead. “What’s wrong?”
I set Ophelia on her feet in front of me, but I don’t let go of her. My hands slide to support her weight against my chest. “I’m not sure,” I whisper, trying to push past the locals in the lobby shoving posters in my face.
With the help of Carl and the hotel’s security, we get Ophelia into the car. By now, she’s sobbing so hard she can barely breathe. Carl slides into the driver seat of the car and I sit next to Ophelia in the back.
I have no idea what to say or do for her, so I hold her.
It takes twenty minutes before we’re at the local hospital. Another thirty before we see a doctor. They do an exam, an ultrasound and deliver the news.
No heartbeat.
“Sometimes these things happen,” they tell us.
I try to offer what I can for her, but there’s not a lot a man can say when this happens. I’m not the one going through the physical pain. And I can’t do anything to stop it. When your girlfriend, wife, whatever they are to you, when they come to you and tell you that they’re pregnant, you never think it’s going to end like this.
Alone in a cold hospital room, I hold her tightly against my chest. I stare at the screen, the image of what was our baby and the frightening silence that follows. I want to scream, reveal harsh words but the silence cuts through that and I’m left with a heavy uncertainty of what this will do to the girl in my arms. She feared having a baby because of her kidneys and the havoc she’s wrecked on her body over the years.
Unprepared for how this might feel, for either of us, I think of our future, and I know without a doubt, I’ll be by her side through it all. Even if we never have kids. If we can’t, I wouldn’t let that stand in my way of showing her she’s worth it all.
I hadn’t planned on doing it here, but nothing about our relationship has been conventional yet, so why start now?
My eyes meet Carl’s, who’s standing near the curtain, a somber expression plastered on his face. “Give us a minute,” I mumble, my chin resting against the top of Ophelia’s head.
His eyes move to mine, to Ophelia, and then he nods. When he’s gone, I pull back, shift my position so I have one hand free. I place it on her cheek. Her face is hot, soaked from tears, but she won’t look at me. I graze my fingertips under her chin and force her to look at me.
When she does, she blinks slowly, and I want so badly to erase the look in her eyes, let my love be her elixir, and replace her world with happiness. So I reach into my pocket and pull out the ring. At first, she doesn’t look at it. Until I hold it up, my eyes piercing hers.
“Marry me.”
“Roan,” she gasps, her face falling. “Not like this. Not because of this.”
I hold her face in my hand, the ring in my fist. “Don’t you see. It’s not because of this, or in reaction to it, it’s because if there’s any time that you need to know I’m in it,forever, it’s now. Right now.” Letting go of her, I hold it up in front of her, the diamond visible. “Now, I’ll ask again.” Her teary eyes drop from mine to the ring. “Ophelia Valentina Hadley, will you marry me?”
Her eyes lift to mine. She doesn’t need to say it. One look and I know her answer. Her eyes dance with a newfound light. I’m captivated, lost in the increasing rhythm of my heartbeat.
And then I place the ring on her finger. She gives me the word, “Yes,” whispered with a shaky breath.
Do you see that girl sitting under the red and black Honda tent surrounded by representatives, mechanics, and race officials? The one where the humidity of South Africa has taken her usual calm, black curls and turned them into, well, Scarlet’s hair?
That girl, she’s so in love.
If I thought loving that hell-raising boy who held me hostage in his room stole my heart, he’s got nothing on the man. The one mercilessly giving everything he has to dominate a race from start to finish.
My life feels like a fairy tale. A permanent vacation. Sure, I work. But that’s the best part about working for your boyfriend, excuse me, husband. You can work anywhere he is.
Oh, are you still caught up on the husband part? Me too!
It’s unreal.
A year after I miscarried, Roan and I married, between rounds of the Hard Enduro Series, in a small ceremony off the coast of Amalfi. A few months later, I got pregnant again. And it’s been a dream ever since.