33. Chapter Thirty-three
September
Present Day
Sam thought about nothing but their argument all evening, and by the time the doorbell rang the next day, she was a bundle of nerves and anticipation.
But it wasn’t Tristan waiting on the other side of the door like she’d expected. It was Steven, standing in the stairwell in his three-piece suit, holding a basket of fruit.
“Hi,” Steven said. “I brought you some fruit.” He lifted the basket, as though anyone could possibly miss it, and then walked into the apartment.
It was one of those edible arrangement bouquets—the ones with pineapples shaped like flowers and strawberries dipped in white chocolate. He placed the arrangement on the newly-cleaned dining room table, then turned around and smiled at her.
All she could think about was Tristan’s words the night before. Steven hadn’t come to their home once when they were together, yet here he was, standing in her kitchen for the second day in a row.
He seemed nervous, yet excited at the same time, and a prickle of awareness ran the length of her spine.
“I asked the woman at the office what to bring to a pregnant woman,” he began. “This was their unanimous answer.” He laughed.
She twisted her hands uneasily. “You shouldn’t have.”
“It’s nothing.” He grinned. “Think of it as a welcome home present.”
Her shoulders relaxed. Of course. Of course, that’s what this was. She’d been home a little over a month—that made perfect sense. And even though Tristan was right, she could think of a million reasons why Steven wouldn’t have stopped by while they were together—Steven not wanting to make Tristan uncomfortable sitting firmly at the top of the list.
“When you called back in February,” Steven began, “I was so excited to hear your voice, and I started to think… We’re both in such different places now. You’ve explored the world, and I’ve spent the last three years focusing on my career.”
She shook her head, trying to cut him off.
“I know. Trust me, I’m not one to believe in second chances, but I think you and I are different.”
Her gut twisted. “Steven… I think you’re confused?—”
“I’m in no rush, Samantha. I know it will take time for you to adjust to the baby, but I’ll wait for you. I also need you to know that I’m not opposed to raising someone else’s child—Lord knows I have enough money for it. I’ve made partner, and you won’t have to worry about anything. I can support you both?—”
“No—”
He came closer, shaking his head. “Don’t answer now, I want you to think?—”
They were the same words he’d used after forcing a kiss on her for the first time when she was sixteen years old. “No?—”
“Sam, please?—”
“She said no!” A booming voice came from across the apartment.
Sam turned to find Tristan at the front door, his legs braced apart and a couple of bags in his hands.
How long had he been there?
“Well, this is awkward,” Steven whispered.
Tristan then closed the door behind him with his foot. His features were eerily calm as he turned toward the hallway, then disappeared into the nursery.
She took a deep breath and turned to face Steven again.
“I should probably go,” Steven said quietly. “I can tell this is bad timing. I’ll call you later so we can talk about this.”
“Don’t.” She shook her head.
He tilted his head to the side. “Why?”
“Because we will never work.”
“You don’t know that, Samantha.” He stepped closer.
“I’m in love with Tristan,” she explained—but the words surprised even her. It was true. Uncontrollably, and undeniably, she loved him, and she didn’t care if the whole world knew.
Steven lifted his chin as though to arguebut then paused, his focus shifting toward the hall again. “I’ll let myself out then,” he said, as he walked toward the front door.
Samantha didn’t stop him.
When she turned around, Tristan was in the door frame, his hands braced along the molding like it was taking all his strength to keep himself there.
She opened her mouth to speak, to explain that she hadn’t known why Steven kept coming over, but he shook his head, stopping her.
“I was unfair to you yesterday,” he said in a soft voice.
She was so surprised by his words that her throat closed with emotion.
“I shouldn’t have raised my voice,” he began again, “but hearing you’d called Steven ...” He shook his head. “It was me you used to call when you needed help, and I ...”
She opened her mouth to speak, but he stepped closer.
“You didn’t have a choice. I wasn’t there for you. And you did exactly what made me fall in love with you in the first place. You didn’t give up. I left you broken and disappointed, yet you did what you needed to do.”
His eyes locked onto the fruit basket that sat in the middle of the dining room table. It took up half the space, but he didn’t even seem to care about it. “I’d be lying if I said I was okay with him being here. I’d be lying if I said that him being around our child doesn’t make me crazy inside. I’d also be lying if I said I wasn’t scared to death that you’ll one day regret not choosing him over me.”
Tears rushed to her eyes, and she moved toward him, but a gush of water whooshed to the ground at her feet.
Her eyes widened, and she looked down at her legs. A steady flow of fluid ran down her thighs, audibly hitting the wood floor. She froze, and everything seemed to echo inside her ears. “I think my water just broke,” she stated.
Panic filled her chest, and she glanced around the room. “I don’t remember what to do.”
“I’ll call the doctor,” Tristan offered as he rushed toward her.
She nodded. “My phone is in the nursery.”
He jogged into the room, coming back a moment later with the phone already ringing. A contraction hit her like a tidal wave and her knees buckled. She stumbled forward, bracing her weight against the chair and focused on the wall ahead of her.
“Breathe.” Tristan was instantly behind her holding onto her hips. “In and out, just like in birthing class.”
She wasn’t sure how he got there so fast, but he was whispering in her ear, telling her everything would be okay, and she latched onto every word. He continued to talk to her as the contraction intensified, adding pressure to her back and hips that helped ease some of the intensity that grew by the second. “You good?” he asked when things had started to calm.
She nodded, even though her chin was quivering.
He began racing around the apartment again, gathering her bags, shoes, and other belongings. Eventually, the doctor came on the line, butSam was in the middle of another contraction and couldn’t talk.
“Hi. Yeah. Her water broke about fifteen minutes ago,” Tristan said. “Ummm…about every six minutes?”
By the time he hung up the phone, his face was white. “He wants us to go to the hospital,” he said.
“Now?” For some reason she started crying.
Tristan grabbed a pile of towels out of the closet and wrapped one around her waist.
“Can you call Renee?” she asked when they were down in his truck. The contractions were coming so fast she could barely think straight. She wasn’t ready for this. Wasn’t prepared. This didn’t seem right. It all felt too fast.
Tristan called Renee on speakerphone after fastening his seatbelt. “Hey, sis, it’s me. Sam’s water just broke,” he said to her voicemail. “We’re on our way to the hospital. Contractions are less than five minutes apart. If you get this, call me.”
He disconnected the call and reached across the center console, placing one hand on her thigh. “You’re doing great, baby,” he said. “You’re in control, and you can handle this.”
His words made her smile. They were the affirmations he’d memorized from their birthing class.
She grabbed his hand, squeezing it tightly as another contraction rolled over her body, this one climbing to a new level. A sudden realization made her panic. “We don’t even have a name,” she said, her laborious moan making her words seem more pathetic.
Tristan put the truck into reverse, glancing over his shoulder as he backed out of the lot. “That’s because we’re terrible people.” He turned to face her, threw the truck into drive, and winked.
Despite herself, she laughed. “Ow, ow, ow?—”
“What?” He started, his voice laced with concern. “Are you okay?”
“Don’t make me laugh,” she said, hitting his shoulder lightly, but a small smile crept across her lips despite the pain. Slowly, the tension in her body began to ease, her breaths becoming steadier.
In that moment, she realized there was no one else she would rather be doing this with. Tristan had a way of grounding her, of making the chaos around them feel manageable, even during moments like this. He was the perfect blend of concern, humor, and excitement, and he was exactly what she needed.
Ten minutes later, after a nerve-racking drive down the interstate, they pulled up to the hospital. Tristan was out the door the second he threw the truck into park. He ran inside the building in a flash and returned moments later with a nurse pushing a wheelchair.
“I think I can walk,” Sam said as she climbed out of the truck, but Tristan was at her side, holding onto her arm.
“It’s hospital policy, ma’am,” the nurse explained.
Soon Sam was wheeled through triage, down a hall, and brought up to a room that was already set up for her.
“Put this on, and I’ll be back in a few moments to check on you,” the nurse said, handing her a blue and white gown.
Tristan followed her into the bathroom, and his hands were shaking as he faced her. She wasn’t sure if it was adrenaline or fear, but she found herself whispering, “It’s okay. You’re doing great.”
He smiled and lifted her arms overhead, taking off her shirt. He unclasped her bra next, and she leaned into him as she breathed through another contraction. He then helped her step out of her panties. “Breathe,” he said, as he assisted her into the hospital gown.
There was nothing sexual about the undressing, but the birth instructor was correct. It was the most intimate moment of her life, being taken care of by him.
She turned to his chest after he’d fasted her ties, and looped her arms around his neck, letting her body hang.
“You got this, baby,” he whispered into her ear. “It’s almost over, you’re doing great.” His words were quiet, charged with an emotion that melted into her, steadying her trembling resolve. She latched onto his voice like it was the only thing anchoring her in this storm.
When the contraction ended, she gulped in breaths of air to prepare for the next one. They were coming faster now, with no time to recover in between.
The nurse knocked on the door, asking if they were finished. They stepped out of the restroom, and Sam was soon hooked up to a handful of machines—a blood pressure cuff, a heart rate monitor, and various other devices to track both her and the baby.
Half an hour later, the nurse returned to check on them. The contractions had grown more intense, making Samantha want to crawl out of her skin and pace the halls, but the nurse insisted she stay put.
Now standing in front of the monitor, the nurse took a few notes before stepping out of the room—only to return a minute later with the doctor in tow.
“Good evening, Mrs. Smiles,” he said, placing his hand on her bed rail. “How are you feeling?”
She clenched her jaw and nodded her head, trying her best to remain calm.
He gave the nurse a nod, then his eyes flicked to the monitors again. “You’re doing great,” he said, but his brows furrowed slightly.
A couple more nurses rushed into the door and started disconnecting machines. Samantha sat up. “Is something wrong?”
The doctor's eyes met hers, and his smile seemed forced.
. “What’s going on?” she asked, squeezing Tristan’s hand.
“We’re taking you in for an emergency C-section, Samantha,” the doctor said.
“Is the baby okay?” Tristan asked, but everyone began rushing around the room and no one would answer the question.
Everything was disconnected within minutes and her bed was pushed out into the hall.
“It will be okay,” Tristan said into her ear. “I’m here with you. I won’t let anything happen.”
Tears streamed down her face as she pushed herself up in bed, grabbing hold of his hand. Her breaths came in shallow gasps, and all she could do was focus on Tristan’s face—on his beautiful eyes, which she hoped their daughter would inherit.
Then another contraction consumed her, and her vision began to tunnel.
“She’s crashing!” someone yelled. “Move it!”
Fear squeezed her throat, and she felt Tristan’s fingers tighten around her palm.
“Name her Sawyer,” she said to him.
He gritted his teeth. “Nothing,” he said, “is going to happen to you, Samantha. Do you hear me? I won’t let anything happen to you.”
Soon they stopped at a pair of double doors, and a nurse was at her bedside. “It’s time,” she said to Tristan, pushing him away from the bed.
He stood tall. “I’m the father. I’m going with her.” His voice was guttural.
She placed her hands on his chest and held him back. “She’ll be fine. We’ll take care of her.”
“I’m not leaving her!” Tristan shook his head. “I won’t leave her!”
“I’m sorry.” The nurse pushed him away, then followed the rest of the crew and Samantha through the double doors.
Samantha began to sob. “No!” she screamed, “No!”
Tristan fell to his knees in the hall.
“I love you, Tristan,” she screamed. “I love you…” The doors started closing, and then everything in the world went black.