Oblivion (Alphaholes #4)

31. Sammy

31

SAMMY

T oday is my wedding day. I guess I thought that when I got married I’d feel stressed or anxious or something other than the strange calm I’m feeling right now.

My dress is perfect. The girls’ bridesmaid dresses are perfect. My hair is perfect. My makeup is perfect. The flowers are perfect. My mama looks perfect. The tables we had laid out in the backyard for our reception are perfect. The aisle, chairs, and archway of flowers out on the beach are perfect.

Everything is perfect, and even though I feel like I should, there’s literally nothing for me to worry about. My mom and the girls have already headed down to the beach, and my dad is standing right outside the door waiting for me. But instead of feeling any doubt about marrying Evan, I feel utterly calm and ready to start the next chapter in my story.

In a few minutes, I’ll be Samantha Morris. I’ll be Evan’s wife, and I’m not scared, I’m excited. I don’t know how, a month ago, I was considering marrying another man. If it was Drew waiting at the end of the aisle, I know I wouldn’t be this calm. I’d be a mess, wondering how I could run away. But if I’m honest, I know I’d have never let things go that far with Drew. Even without Evan’s intervention, I think I always knew that Drew wasn’t the right man for me and saying yes was a mistake right from the start.

When there’s a knock at the door, I inhale, then pick up my simple bouquet of roses and turn the handle.

“Are you ready?” my dad asks.

I nod. “More than ready.” Stepping out of the room I’ve used as a dressing room, I take my dad’s arm and let him lead me toward my future.

The sand is warm beneath my bare feet. Mama threw a fit when I told her I didn’t want to wear shoes, but I’m glad I didn’t let her sway me. Lifting my chin, I smile at all the faces of the important people in my life who are all here to watch me and Evan get married.

It turns out that the only real friends either me or Evan have are the ones we consider family. So even though the girls are my bridesmaids and the guys all groomsmen, they’re all seated, and the only people standing at the end of the aisle are Evan and the officiant who is going to marry us.

We haven’t bothered with a bride or groom’s side of the aisle, mainly because the only family I have are my parents. So instead, Evan’s dad is sitting beside my mama with Cassidy beside him. The rest of the guests are just the guys’ parents and Starling’s dad, who eagerly accepted the invitation to fly in and see me get married. He and I bonded when Starling went to visit with her dad to prove that Sebastian wasn’t holding her hostage.

When we reach the end of the aisle, I turn to my dad and he leans forward and presses a kiss to my forehead. “Be happy,” he whispers.

“Thank you, Daddy,” I whisper back as he unloops his arm from mine and takes the empty seat beside Mama.

Evan reaches for me the moment my dad lets me go, tugging me forward and holding my hands tightly in his. “You look beautiful,” he says, his gaze both reverent and heated.

When the officiant starts to talk, I zone out, too focused on the man beside me and the fact that even though I dreamed of this, I didn’t think it would ever happen.

“Do you, Evan Harold Morris, take Samantha Elizabeth Hartley to be your lawfully wedding wife?”

“I do,” Evan says, his eyes never wavering from mine.

“Do you, Samantha Elizabeth Hartley, take Evan Harold Morris to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

“I do,” I say, smiling widely.

“I now pronounce you husband and wife. Evan, you may kiss your bride.”

Reeling me into him, Evan curls one arm around my back and uses the other to cup my cheek. “I love you, Mrs. Morris,” he whispers before he leans in and presses his lips to mine.

The world stops. It doesn’t slow or go silent. It simply stops, and the kiss lasts a lifetime but nowhere near long enough. He tells me without a single word that he loves me, owns me, claims me, belongs to me, will live and die, and survive for me, and it’s everything.

It’s everything.

Once the claps and cheers of congratulations have died down, we walk hand in hand down the aisle and toward the house where our house manager and a team of caterers are filling the tables with delicious looking food.

“You’re married,” Starling gushes, hugging first me, then slightly more carefully, Evan.

“I’m married,” I say on a giggle.

“God, we’re both married at nineteen. How did that happen?” she says with a smirk.

Before I get a chance to speak, we’re surrounded by our family and a sea of well wishes and congratulations. Even my parents seem genuine when they hug both me and Evan and wish us a lifetime of happiness together.

The afternoon is perfect. We sip champagne and eat amazing food, then we cut the gorgeous cake we picked, and I smoosh a piece into Evan’s face while he laughs. I’m not even mad when he drags me to him and kisses the cake all over my lips.

Once everyone has eaten and the sun has completely dipped below the horizon, we turn up the music and dance and drink until everyone is tipsy enough that they’re ready to go home. Soon, we’re the only ones left, and despite all the champagne I’ve drunk, I feel clear-headed and awake.

“Hello, Mrs. Morris,” Evan says, closing the distance between us like a predator hunting down its prey.

“Hello, Mr. Morris.” I laugh, letting him reel me in before he’s even close enough to touch me.

“You’re mine,” he growls, his voice low and rough.

Inhaling, I sigh happily. “Yes, I am. What are you going to do with me?”

“I’m going to take you to bed, strip you out of this dress, then eat you until you’re so desperate to come, you think you’ll die without it. Then I’m going to fuck you until you black out.”

I can’t help it. I giggle. It’s a happy girl giggle that ruins the moment, but I can’t help it. Because I’m happy. So incredibly happy.

Scooping me into his arms, Evan carries me upstairs and does exactly what he threatened he would, but instead of blacking out, I scream so loudly I go hoarse. In the weeks since he claimed me, Evan has fucked me in a hundred different ways, but at some point during the night, he stops fucking me and starts loving me.

He climbs between my thighs, curls my legs around his waist, and plunges into me over and over while he devours my lips with his. It’s the calmest sex we’ve ever had, but somehow the most intimate too. Him being inside of me, his limbs entwined with mine while he kisses me like he’d be happy to share my oxygen for the rest of eternity, is a heady feeling.

We spend the day after our wedding in bed in a sweaty hedonistic haze that I wish I never had to emerge from. Being with Evan is addictive, and it makes me understand how easy it could be to allow myself to become utterly consumed by him.

As much as we wish we could stay hidden in our house forever, we have to go to class on Monday morning. The world continues to spin, even if we want to stand still and lose ourselves to each other instead.

“Don’t forget we have that doctor’s appointment after class this afternoon,” Evan reminds me as he kisses me goodbye outside my classroom.

“A doctor’s appointment? I question.

“The physical, so we can add you to my health insurance.”

“I already have health insurance, you know,” I remind him.

“I know, but mine is better, wife.”

I’ve lost count of the number of times he’s called me wife or Mrs. Morris since we got married, but every time he does, I can’t help but smile, no matter how often he says it. I’ve wanted to belong, to be his for so long, and now I am, and it’s crazy and fast and intense, but it’s perfect.

“Where is this doctor’s office?” I ask as Evan drives his car through the college gates and onto the street.

“It’s near my parents’ place in Greenacres. Our usual family doctor, Dr. Harris, is out of town at the moment, so his colleague, Dr. Singh, will be seeing us.”

“And what exactly are they going to do?”

“It’s just a routine physical. They’ll check you over, listen to your heart, and take some bloods. We’ll be in and out in thirty minutes,” he promises, reaching over and taking my hand in his.

“Fine. Did you want to drop by and visit your dad and Cassidy while we’re passing by?” I ask.

“No, not today. I know you have homework to finish, and I don’t want you to fall behind.”

Sighing softly, I squeeze his hand. “Taking the extra classes is harder than I thought,” I confess.

“I know. If it gets too much, then you can reassess,” he assures me.

When we pull up to the doctor’s office, the place is fancier than I was expecting. Although I guess I should have known that the kind of doctors Evan and his family are used to wouldn’t have an office in a strip mall.

The office is housed inside an impressive red brick building with a polished brass nameplate fixed to the heavy wooden entrance doors. As soon as we step inside, we’re greeted by a neat-looking nurse wearing an old-fashioned nurse’s dress and stockings. The whole place has an air of money and exclusivity.

Instead of sending us to a waiting room, the nurse leads us straight back to a wood-paneled treatment room. Handing me a soft cotton gown, she motions to the changing screen and tells me to get changed into the gown. “Dr. Singh will be with you in just a moment,” she says.

“Don’t I need to fill out any paperwork?” I ask.

“No, Mrs. Morris. We have all of your medical files already. Dr. Singh has been fully appraised of your history.”

Snapping my lips shut so I don’t sound like an idiot, I nod, and she leaves the room, flashing us a warm smile as she closes the door behind her.

“Do you need any help getting out of your clothes?” Evan asks with a cheeky grin. “We could play doctor and patient.”

“Eww. There is nothing sexy about a medical exam,” I exclaim with a shudder.

“Duly noted.” He laughs.

Not bothering to step behind the screen, I strip down to my underwear, then pull the gown around me. “Can you tie the strings?” I ask Evan.

Turning to give him my back, I pull my hair over my shoulder while he ties the strings and secures the gown.

“Aren’t you supposed to take your underwear off too?” he asks.

“I’ve never had to before. This isn’t a gyno appointment.”

A knock at the door interrupts us before Evan can speak again. “Come in,” I call.

The door opens a few seconds later, and an older man with salt and pepper hair and wire framed glasses strides into the room. “Good afternoon, Mr. and Mrs. Morris. How are you both today?”

“We’re good, thanks,” Evan answers.

“Wonderful. Congratulations on your recent wedding.”

“Thank you,” I say, standing awkwardly at the end of the exam table.

“Now, this is just a routine physical, Mrs. Morris, so I’ll check your vitals, then pull some blood. I’ve accessed your medical records, and there’s no history of illness that should be of concern, so it’s all just precautionary. If you’d like to sit on the exam table, I’ll start with your blood pressure.”

The doctor is quick and efficient, and within ten minutes, he drapes his stethoscope around his neck and handwrites notes on his clipboard of papers. “Wonderful. Everything is exactly where it’s supposed to be. Your blood pressure is a little high, but doctors’ offices tend to make people anxious, which could account for that. Let’s draw some blood. I should have the results back by lunchtime tomorrow, and I’ll give you a call if I have any concerns.”

“Thank you,” I say, cringing as he applies a tourniquet around my bicep.

“You don’t like needles?” Evan asks, his brow furrowed in concern.

“Who likes needles?” I question, closing my eyes.

Moments later, Evan’s hand lands on the back of my head, pressing my face into his warm chest. “Shh, baby. It’s almost over,” he assures me as I feel the prick of the needle entering my arm.

“All done,” Dr. Singh says, unfastening the band from around my arm and pressing a cotton ball to the spot he just drew blood from.

“Are you okay?” Evan asks, slowly pulling back until he can look down at me.

“I’m glad it’s over,” I confess, feeling a little sick.

“You’re pale,” Evan growls. “Doc, she’s pale.”

Dr. Singh strides to me, his eyes filled with concern. “Do you feel lightheaded, Mrs. Morris, or nauseous?”

“A little nauseous, but I always feel like this after I have to get blood taken,” I confess.

“Baby, why didn’t you tell me?” Evan asks, crouching down as he cups my cheek and stares at me with worried eyes.

“Let me ask the nurse to get you an electrolyte drink,” the doctor says, rushing out of the room, like me feeling a little sick is a medical emergency.

“I’m fine,” I protest, but it sounds weak. When I look up, Evan’s eyes are hard, and his nose is flaring as he inhales sharp breaths.

“I knew I should have waited for Dr. Harris to be available. I don’t even know who this quack is, and I let him touch you. I let him make you sick,” he snarls, fire and fury evident in his expression.

“Evan, baby, I always feel like I’m going to puke when I have blood drawn. The doctor didn’t do anything wrong. You need to calm down.” Grabbing his hand, I tug him to me, cupping his cheeks with my palms. “I’m fine. You’re overreacting,” I whisper in my most placating tone.

“Here you go, Mrs. Morris. Drink this. It should stop your nausea. Are you feeling faint at all? I’m going to check your blood pressure again, but I don’t think it’s anything to worry about.”

Evan grumbles under his breath the entire time the doctor fusses over me, then visibly sags in relief when Dr. Singh says my blood pressure is fine.

“How’s the nausea?” the doctor asks.

“Gone, thank you. I feel fine now,” I assure him, smiling as I slip off the table.

“Okay. Well, I’ll leave you to get dressed, and I’ll call you with the results of your blood work as soon as I have them.”

“Thank you, Dr. Singh. It was nice to meet you,” I say, being overly polite to counteract the way Evan is scowling at him from beside me.

With a nod, the doctor leaves, and ignoring Evan’s displeasure, I quickly get dressed.

“Come here. I’ll carry you,” Evan says, striding to me with a determined expression on his face.

“You are not carrying me.” I laugh, lifting my hands up to ward him away. “I’m fine.”

“Take my hand then. I don’t want you to fall,” he grumbles.

Smiling and giggling to myself, I take his hand and let him lead me out of the office.

“Have you heard from Dr. Singh yet?” Evan asks when he meets me outside my class the following day.

“No, but I also didn’t give them my number. Did you give it to them?”

“Oh, fuck. No, I guess I didn’t. Should we call them?” he asks, sounding oddly excited.

“I’m sure they’ll call you if there’s something we need to know,” I say, shrugging him off. “Dr. Singh said he didn’t think there would be anything to worry about.”

“So, let’s call and confirm that,” Evan says insistently.

“Fine. I’ll call once we get back to the house.”

The cart ride back across campus is fast, and when we walk into the house, instead of heading for the kitchen, Evan tugs me into the den, closing the door behind us. “Here, I’ll call,” he says, pulling his cell from his pocket and quickly dialing the number.

“I could have called,” I say, arching a brow at him. “Are you worried there’s something wrong with me? You’re acting kind of weird.”

“Of course not,” he denies, tapping at his screen and putting the call onto speaker.

“Harris and Singh, doctor’s office. How may I direct your call?” a perky receptionist answers.

“Hi, this is Evan Morris. We were expecting Dr. Singh to call us with the results of my wife’s blood work this afternoon, but we just realized we don’t think you have her cell number.”

“Let me see if Dr. Singh is available. Please hold the line.”

Hold music plays through the speakers for a moment before it abruptly stops, and Dr. Singh’s voice replaces it. “Mr. Morris, I’m glad you called. I should have checked yesterday because we don’t have a contact number on file for your wife. Is she with you? I have her test results here.”

“Yes, I’m here,” I say.

“Perfect. I’m happy to inform you that all of your blood work came back as normal, except for one test that we did as a precaution. Mrs. Morris…” He pauses, and my heart races. “You’re pregnant. Around two to three weeks, judging by your hCG levels.”

“I’m what?” I splutter.

“Pregnant, Mrs. Morris. Obviously, it’s very early, and a lot of things can happen. But congratulations. You’re going to have a baby.”

“No,” I snap. “No, that’s not possible. I have an IUD.”

Dr. Singh doesn’t speak, and I hear the tapping of keys on a keyboard. “Mrs. Morris, did Dr. Harris not explain that you’d need to start an alternative form of birth control when he removed your IUD?” he asks, his tone clearly confused.

“Excuse me? I haven’t had my IUD removed,” I gasp.

“Mrs. Morris, Dr. Harris removed your IUD almost a month ago. I’m looking at the consent form you signed to have the procedure performed while you were sedated right now. Is that not correct?”

Lifting my startled gaze from the cell, I raise my head until I’m staring into the smug, smiling face of my husband.

“Of course. I’m sorry. That night is a little hazy for me. I don’t really remember anything after I took the sedative,” I say robotically through gritted teeth.

The doctor’s chuckle is forced and awkward. “I’m going to write you a script for some prenatal vitamins, and I’d recommend you schedule an appointment with an OBGYN for an exam and an ultrasound in a couple of weeks. Once again, congratulations.”

“Thank you, Dr. Singh,” Evan says, ending the call without looking away from me.

“What did you do?” I whisper.

“I made you mine,” Evan says boldly, without an ounce of shame.

“I was already yours,” I shout, shoving my hand with my engagement and wedding rings into his chest. “How could you do this?”

“You wanted this, Sammy. You begged me over and over to breed you. To put my baby in your belly. And that’s exactly what I’ve done. You’re mine. This baby is mine,” he says, placing his palm on my stomach.

“You’ve ruined everything,” I say, my voice barely audible.

“Our baby couldn’t ruin anything. It just made everything even more perfect.”

“No, no, no,” I chant, tears filling my eyes. “This wasn’t part of the plan. You weren’t supposed to go this far,” I say absentmindedly.

“The plan?” he asks.

“Why did you do this? You had me, Evan. You did exactly what you were supposed to do. You came to me, you claimed me, you married me. This is supposed to be our happy ever after, not the time to have a fucking baby. Why couldn’t you just stick with the plan?”

“What. Fucking. Plan?” he yells, his eyes narrowed to slits as he straightens, his hand tense, even as it still covers my stomach.

“We knew you’d never make a move on your own.”

“What?”

“Would you ever have crawled out of your pit of guilt and despair if I hadn’t gotten engaged to Drew?”

“Sammy, what the fuck are you talking about?” he asks, his tone terse, confused, and furious all at the same time.

“You’re mine, Evan, you always have been. I know it, you know it, but you weren’t making a move. You were too busy being miserable, content to just watch me date other guys.”

“What did you do, Sammy?” he questions.

Blinking, I let an angry grin spread across my lips. “I made you mine.”

Three Months Earlier

“Come home,” Starling insisted. “I have an idea that will fix everything.”

Shaking my head, I laughed softly. “Evan and I can’t be fixed. I told him how I feel, and he rejected me.”

“He rejected you because he’s an idiot. But we can fix that. Do you remember when I told you how I yelled at Clay and told him how fucked up all the stuff they were allowing Sebastian to do to me was?” she asked me.

“Yeah, I think so.”

“Well, the moment I spelled it out to him, I literally saw him realize how messed up everything was. It was like something clicked in his brain, and he figured it out.”

“Okay, but what does that have to do with Evan?”

“He needs that click moment. He needs to be forced to realize that he’s lost you so that he can figure out that he can’t live without you,” she said gleefully.

“But what if he can live without me?” I asked sadly.

“He can’t. But if by the super slim chance he can, then at least you’ll know, and you can move on knowing that you did everything you could.”

“So, what exactly do I do to make him think he’s lost me?” I asked.

“You get a boyfriend, or even better, a fiancé.”

“You want me to get engaged to someone to make the guy I actually want realize he wants me back?” I sputtered.

“Not just someone. I want you to get engaged to Drew. He’s been chasing you all summer, and I don’t care what you say, he does not just want to be friends with you. I’m sure you could plant enough seeds to make him see you as the perfect wife, then when he asks you to marry him, you say yes, and you act like you’re over the moon. You call me, happy and engaged, and you show off your engagement ring, and you tell me that you’ve decided to move to Harvard after all.”

“I can’t make Drew ask me to marry him. He hasn’t even tried to kiss me,” I’d told her.

“Of course you can,” Starling assured me. “In my psychology class, we’re studying subliminal messaging and the ethical ramifications of essentially planting hidden messages to encourage consumers to use specific brands and things. Drew already wants you. I really don’t think it would take much work from you to subliminally convince him that proposing to you is a great idea.”

“And then what? Even if Drew does propose, do you really think that Evan will suddenly just get over his issues and claim me?” I questioned.

“Bring her back to me, big brother. I need her, and I’ll forgive you if you do. I know you love her, so do whatever it takes, but bring her back to me,” Starling said, her eyes going sad as her lips turned down at the corners.

“Holy shit,” I said, bursting into laughter. “When did you become such a good actress?”

A huge smile curved at her lips as she shrugged. “I’ve learned a lot from Sebastian.”

“Including being as dastardly and cunning as he is?” I asked.

“You want Evan, and he wants you. I’m not being dastardly or cunning. I’m just playing the game by their rules. It’s where January and I both went wrong. We played by society’s rules. We played fair, but that’s not how you win. You win by being five moves ahead and changing the rules to act in your favor. There’s no way I’d have survived in Sebastian’s world if I hadn’t picked up a few things, and I’m more than okay with using my insider knowledge to help you get your happy ever after. This will work, Sammy.”

“What do I say to my parents? They’re not going to be okay with me getting engaged to their friends’ son and then dumping him to get with Evan,” I told her.

Sighing, she shrugged. “You lie. Everyone needs to believe that you really want to marry Drew, including your parents. Once Evan comes for you, he’ll figure out a way to get rid of Drew, and then it’ll be his fault you broke up, and not yours.”

“You want me to lie to my family?”

“You’ve been lying to them for months. What’s one more lie?” she’d said, arching her eyebrow and daring me to deny it.

“I’m not sure I’m a good enough actress to pull all of this off.”

Starling laughed. “I’ve seen you flirt with a dozen guys that you weren’t interested in. I’ve seen you tell Evan your life is none of his business and that you don’t belong to him. You can act in love with Drew and then act mad at Evan for a while, especially if it means you both get what you want in the end.”

“What if he figures it out?” I asked, wondering if this really could work. If pretending to move on with my life could really force Evan to make his move.

“He won’t. They always underestimate us. But if he reacts the way I think he will, he’ll lose his shit and take over your life. Are you prepared for that? You’ve seen what I’ve been through, what January went through. Can you live with that? Can you allow him to become your world but not let him consume you?” she asked, her expression serious.

Inhaling sharply, I let out a deep sigh. “I love him.”

“Then let’s make a plan.”

I nodded, still not one hundred percent sure that this was the right way to claim him, but knowing that I was going to do it anyway.

“Sammy,” Starling had called.

“Yeah.”

“Welcome to the psycho club.”