20. Chapter Twenty
20
CHAPTER TWENTY
July
Present Day
New York
It took Samantha only ten minutes to realize the air conditioner in the moving truck was shit. By thirty, a band of perspiration had dampened the hair at her temples. She cracked the window open, hoping the fresh air would clear away some of the heat, but the summer sun had cooked up all the foul odors of the city, and wasn’t refreshing in the slightest.
Tristan hadn’t spoken to her since they’d left the apartment. Back when he’d packed her remaining luggage into the cab, and she’d typed Renee’s new address into GPS. She wasn’t exactly sure what she’d expected. For them to pick up like old friends, or to hash out all the unspoken words they’d left behind in the kitchen months earlier, but this wasn’t it.
They were on their way to meet Renee in her new home for lunch, but now seated in the truck, with the smells of the city burning Samantha’s nostrils, the last thing she wanted to do was think about food.
Morning sickness had passed months earlier, yet the odor that whirled around in the cab made her want to hurl. She rolled down the window, causing her hair to whip wildly around her face and neck, adhering to her sticky cheeks.
She wiped the sweat that beaded at her hairline, then glanced over at Tristan as she pulled her thick braid over one shoulder. He only sat there, his hands braced on either side of the steering wheel, his eyes focused on the road.
She guessed he was concentrating on getting the truck out of the city, but upon further inspection he didn’t appear to be stressed in the slightest. He drove a twenty-four-foot moving truck through the streets of New York, yet he actually looked bored. Blank faced. Like a million walls were placed up all around him.
They continued to navigate through neighborhoods, down one-way streets, and out of the city, but the silence between them became like a pressure cooker, slowly boiling; expanding, as though it would soon explode.
He’d worn the same expression all day. The same calm, collected, irritating expression he’d walked into her apartment with over an hour earlier. The same one he’d moseyed through the halls of West Valley with all those years ago in high school.
She couldn’t stop her mind from making comparisons to the last trip they’d taken years ago. When he’d walked into her apartment like he’d owned the place—then walked away with her whole heart a few days later.
Now, he was as stiff as a board. His easy relaxed nature gone, replaced by someone she didn’t quite recognize. Mistrust filled the air between them. They spoke in only business-like tones, like they were speaking of shared real estate. Though instead of an ocean-side villa, they spoke about their child. Their baby, who could be born in as little as nine weeks.
Sam sighed, pulling in a deep breath as she adjusted in her seat for what felt like the millionth time. At one point in their relationship, Tristan told her everything. His hopes, his dreams, his fears…even what he had for lunch. But things had become distant now, so broken that the only thing she knew about him were things she learned from his sister. It was through Renee that she learned he’d been a match for Liam. Through Renee that she learned the bone marrow transplant had worked, and that the cells had begun to multiply.
“He flew to see you against doctor’s orders, Sam,” Renee said when they’d met for brunch two months earlier. “He must have told you? You must have noticed.”
Samantha remembered that day too well, replayed it over and over almost nightly, but she hadn’t known. She hadn’t even suspected.
She glanced across the truck at him now, unable to keep her eyes from drifting down to his hip. She remembered him limping that day in her apartment, but she’d thought Margaret had hit him with a stick.
“How’s Liam?” She couldn’t stop herself from asking, trying to take away some of the awkward silence in the cab.
Heshifted to face her. “He’s good,” he said, but his eyes were covered by those damned glasses still, making his expression impossible to read.
In truth, she was proud of him for what he’d done—proud of him for putting the hurt between him and his father aside so he could help his brother. That must have been hard for him. She wished she could tell him that, but instead, they spent fifteen more minutes in silence.
Eventually, they veered off the highway, entering a tree-lined street of a suburb in New Jersey. Sam sat a little straighter, realizing that this was the neighborhood where Renee and Phin would raise their child.
It was simple and quaint, like all the photos she and Renee would plaster into their Dream Book when they were young. The Craftsman-style homes, red maple trees flanking the yards, and white picket fences too many to count.
“We’re almost there, aren’t we?” Sam asked though she didn’t really need him to answer. The entire neighborhood looked like something straight out of a movie. Exactly like a place Renee would choose to settle down.
Her eyes latched onto a group of kids in the distance, running down the sidewalk with squirt guns in their hands. Then to a little girl on a red tricycle that fell two beats behind, her bare feet peddling a mile a minute, her blond pigtails blowing in the wind as she tried to catch up.
Sam covered her mouth, realizing their childhood fantasy had come true. This was their hopes and dreams, and Renee’s baby would thrive in it.
Soon, Tristan pulled along the curb in front of a blue house with a swing hanging from a tall tree in the front yard. A pebble-stone pathway led to the front porch, where purple hydrangeas grew along the deck.
“Is this it?” Samantha asked Tristan.
His eyes were down, his attention on his phone, but he nodded.
She thought about asking what he was doing, who he was texting, and why he looked so serious, but she heard Renee’s voice in the distance, calling her.
“I thought you’d never get here!” Renee yelled, swaying with her infant daughter on the front deck. “Your niece has been waiting for you all day!”
Opening the door to the truck, Samantha supported her basketball-sized belly and hopped down to the sidewalk.
“Come inside.” Phin appeared beside her, wrapping his arm around the mother of his child. “Get out of this heat, Sam. You must be dying.”
Together, Phin and Renee looked like the epitome of a perfect family.Sam took a deep breath, then glanced over to Tristan again, who was still inside the truck, looking down at his phone. She closed the door behind her, a yearning like she’d never felt before, rattling her chest.
Sophia Elizabeth Lombardi was born on July 7, weighing seven pounds, seven ounces, and was just as loud as her mother.
“Come in, come in,” Phin said, waving them into their living room as his newborn daughter wailed in Renee’s arms.
Tristan had finally gotten out of the truck and joined them in the house. His moodwas unwavering, his legs braced apart, and his eyes shielded by those damned glasses.
Deciding to ignore him, Sam peered around Renee’s new home and took it all in. Light streamed in from every direction, illuminating the windows, the wide paneled oak floors, and the moving boxes that were stacked two high against the wall. They’d closed on this house less than a month ago, and considering Sophia was less than two weeks old, everything looked perfect.
“I’m so glad you guys could make it,” Renee said, swaying back and forth as Sophia whimpered in her arms. It was magical watching them. Seeing her best friend, who months earlier had declared that she had no clue how to be a mother, acting as though she’d been doing this her whole life.
Sophia’s whimpers transformed into coos, the coos became softer, and soon the entire house fell into silence.
Sam took a deep breath, watching baby Sophia stare at her mother’s face as though she were the most amazing thing in the world. “I wouldn’t have missed this for anything,” Sam whispered, and it was the absolute truth. Of all the things she would miss most about New York, it was Renee, Phin, and watching little Sophia grow up that would break her.
This was only the second time Sam had met Sophia, yet she was already bigger than in the hospital. Older, stronger, and more awake. Samantha imagined how different she’d look ina couple of months when her own baby was born.
In a couple of months.
When her own baby was born.
For the second time that day, her mind began spinning.
“Are you guys hungry?” Renee asked, turning toward Tristan as she handed him the baby. “We have chips, sandwiches...” She led Sam down the hall and toward the kitchen.
A plethora of food covered the bar, but all Sam could do was focus on how tiny Sophia appeared in Tristan’s arms.
This wasn’t the first time he’d held an infant in her presence, yet a rush of emotion washed over her like a tidal wave.
He looked natural. At peace. More relaxed than he’d been since they’d left her apartment.
Tristan Montgomery wasn’t one of those men that held a baby at arm’s length, he placed her on his chest, cozied up in one arm as he patted her back with the other.
Renee continued pulling things from the refrigerator. Potato salad, some sort of Jello, and an entire array of condiments.
Sam forced her eyes away from Tristan. “You guys didn’t need to do this,” she said to her best friend. “It’s too much.”
“Do what?” Renee asked.
“This. All this food! You just had a baby, for God’s sake!” Sam turned toward Tristan again, hoping he’d back her up, but little Sophia was now facing him and staring up into his face. They were looking at each other as though they were old friends. Her little legs squished up into his chest like a frog—her tiny fists waving around as she made soft cooing noises.
Renee must have noticed too, because soon she was at her brother’s side, yanking the glasses from his face. “You’re meeting your niece for the first time, brother; let’s not give her nightmares, okay?”
It was only for a second, but Tristan’s eyes shifted to Samantha, red-rimmed and full of emotion she hadn’t been prepared for. She stepped backward, thankful the counter was behind her as she thudded against the sink.
Maybe he was tired, maybe he’d been up all night as he flew from L.A., but something inside her knew it was more than that. Soon it would be their baby in his arms. Soon it would be his responsibility. His DNA. His child that he held so close.
Of course, this moment would be emotional for him.
“I think she likes you,” Renee said to Tristan, forcing Samantha to look down at her feet. She was about to lose it. Right here, right in the middle of her best friend’s kitchen.
Having grown up as an only child, she’d always been envious of Tristan and Renee’s relationship. They fought like cats and dogs, claimed to hate each other, but always sought each other out. Like a mouse to a block of cheese, Renee stepped closer, admiring her daughter’s yellow hair as she pushed it from her daughter’s forehead. “How is it that I birthed this child, yet she came out looking like my brother?”
Tristan laughed. “Nah, she looks like you, Ren,” he argued.
Renee smiled, tilted her head to the side, then slipped a sock off Sophie’s foot to show off her five perfect toes. “You think?” she asked longingly.
“Sure,” he said softly. “It’s the nose, I think. It looks a little piggish.”
Renee hit him hard on the shoulder, then took Sophia from his arms. “Insult my daughter again, Tristan Montgomery. I dare you.” But there was a twinkle in her eye when she turned her back.
Tristan peeked over her shoulder without skipping a beat, his chin resting on the top of his sister’s head. “She’s beautiful, Ren. Just like her mama.”
Samantha lost it. Tears rushed to her eyes, and she pushed away from the counter. “Is the bathroom over here?” she yelled, not waiting for a reply as she raced toward the hall.
“Second door on the left,” Phin called.
In two seconds flat, she found the door, closed it behind her, and locked it. Her head pressed against the surface, her breaths coming in rapid pants as she began to hyperventilate. “Slow,” she demanded of her breathing. “In and out. One at a time, you can do this.” She hadn’t slept well in days—in weeks, if she was being honest with herself, and exhaustion had finally caught up with her.
“Everything okay?” Renee asked a moment later.
Sam closed her eyes, rolled into the wooden door, and pressed her back into the crook of it. “I’m fine,” she called out. “It’s the baby—makes me have to pee every two-seconds.”
There was a short pause before Renee called back. “Bull shit. Now, are you going to unlock this door, or do I have to ask Phin to go find me the key?”
Knowing better than to test her best friend, Sam unlocked the door, then proceeded to walk toward the sink, where she braced her hands on either side of the counter, and let her head hang between her shoulder blades.
“What’s the matter?” Renee demanded, folding her arms over her chest.
There were so many emotions rolling around in Samantha’s head that she didn’t even know where to begin. “It’s so much harder than I imagined.” The words exploded from her lips like a beer bottle that had been shaken. She buckled from the weight of them, because saying the words aloud made them ten times more difficult to accept.
“No shit, Sherlock.” Renee walked over to her. “Did you really think this was going to be easy? You guys have been ignoring each other for months.”
It was true, but the reminder didn’t make things any easier.
Samantha was trying hard not to cry, but it was nearly impossible. Once she started there would be no way to stop. “I don’t know what to do,” she exclaimed, turning on the faucet in hopes that it would drown out her blubbering. “He’s acting as though we’re strangers. As though he doesn’t even know me, and I don’t think I can take that for three days.”
Renee’s fingers wrapped around Samantha’s hand. “Yes, you can,” she whispered. “If for no other reason, you’re going to do it for your baby.”
The reminder of their child caused a floodgate of emotion to burst out of her chest. Tears, snot, and an ungodly amount of fluid began dripping from her face. “I don’t know how to act around him anymore! I don't know what to say, what to do…” Her sobs were frantic, pathetic, and Renee grabbed hold of her shoulders and began shaking.
“That’s the problem, Sam—” she said forcefully, “you have to stop acting. You’ve been pretending like nothing happened. Like your baby won’t be here in a couple of months and it has to stop. You can’t continue hiding in the bathroom, and pretending like everything is normal!”
“I’m not hiding,” Samantha yelled, wiping her nose with a handful of tissues.
“What do you call this, then?” Renee demanded.
Samantha crossed her arms at her chest, threw the tissues in the trash, then glanced over at her best friend. “I’m doing the best I can,” she said softly. “I’m trying to get along, to move on?—”
Renee shook her head and rested against the counter. “How can you move on when you haven’t even talked about what happened?”
Samantha froze,because for the first time in months, she had to admit her best friend was right.