The Man I Love (The Road Trip #2)

34. Chapter Thirty-four

September

Present Day

The room was dark when Samantha opened her eyes. Everything felt hazy and strange—like she was slowly making her way out of a fog. At first, she thought she was dreaming; there was a disconnect between her mind and her body. But then things began to sharpen, and she noticed a nurse standing at her bedside, pressing buttons on a machine.

A sudden memory of Tristan falling to his knees flashed through her mind, and panic seized her chest. She pushed hard against the mattress, forcing herself upright. “My baby!” she cried out, her voice trembling. “My baby!”

“Shhh …” Tristan was at her side, pressing his lips into her forehead., “Shhh …. It’s fine; everything is fine. The baby is perfect.”

A cold sweat peppered her brow, and she shook her head. “Where is she? Where’s my baby?”

Tristan backed away, then reached into the bassinet beside her bed and picked up their daughter.

Tension eased from her shoulders as she saw an angel’s perfect face. Her head fell back on the mattress, and Tristan leaned over her, placing their baby gently in her arms.

“Sir,” the nurse said, “the doctor needs to sign off before she can hold her.”

But Tristan only waved her off and propped a pillow behind Samantha’s back. “Nothing is going to happen to them. I’m here.”

His words were a promise, melting any remaining fear from her heart. He was there. He wouldn’t let anything happen. They were two little words that went beyond here and now. They were a promise for always, until he left this world, for as long as they were with him.

The baby began to move in her arms, and Samantha watched her tiny face squint against the bright lights above her head. Despite her being earthside, Samantha remembered her movements as though they were her own. The tiny squirms that had become a part of her daily life for months. Even though Samantha was meeting her for the first time, she already recognized her. The tiny nose that was so similar to her own, her wise eyes that reminded her so much of Tristan, and the lips that were a perfect shade of rosy, pink, and the exact shade of Renee’s. Emotions like she’d never experienced before rushed through her body; pride, longing, and an overwhelming love that was indescribable.

She glanced up at Tristan, tears stinging her eyes. “I already love her. I’ve never seen anything more beautiful in my life.”

He came closer, his expression almost painful. She understood it. Their hearts now lived outside of their bodies, and life as they knew it would never be the same.

A pink and blue blanket was wrapped around her, and Tristan began to unfasten it, needing to show her every inch. To show her that she was healthyand safe, and that Samantha’s sleepless nights were all worthwhile. She needed it too. The proof that everything was okay. She needed it more than she needed air, and somehow—he understood.

With desperation, she examined all her toes, then her five tiny fingers on each of her hands. “How much did she weigh?” she asked. “Did she cry when she was born?”

“Six pounds, two ounces,” he recited the words as though he’d locked the information to memory. “They said she cried like a banshee.”

She looked up, suddenly realizing that he’d missed her birth too. The nurse must have decided that they needed privacy because she was now gone from the room.

“Of course she did,” Sam whispered as tears rushed to her eyes. “She’s my daughter, isn’t she?”

He nodded. “She is.”

Tristan kissed her forehead, then went on to tell her what happened. The baby’s heart rate had dropped, and she wasin distress. They feared placental abruption, or that the umbilical cord was cutting off her airway. Sam was rushed to the operating room and put under anesthesia, but their daughter was perfectly fine. “She’s perfect,” Tristan said in reassurance.

Sam held her for a long while, allowing her heart to calm, as she memorized their daughter's perfect face. The baby began to squirm and root at her chest, and Sam reached behind her back to untie her hospital gown.

Tristan came to assist her, knowing exactly what she needed. Soon her shoulder was free, and the baby was skin against skin. Samantha took her baby’s hand, turning it backward and forward, examining each perfect wrinkle, as her daughter latched onto her breast.

She was in complete awe that this perfect human had grown inside of her. Samantha looked up at Tristan, who watched them both with amazement.

His eyes were red-rimmed and tired, and she could tell he’d been crying. He pulled a chair to the side of the bed, grabbing hold of her hand. “I thought for a moment that I was going to lose you,” he whispered, his voice so low she barely heard it.

“We’re here,” she whispered. “You don’t have to worry anymore.” But her face contorted with the pain she knew he’d experienced. Even though it was over, the memory of him falling to his knees in the hall was still one of the most terrifying moments of her life.

“I was so scared,” he began, his voice hoarse and shredded. “I was so scared you’d leave this world without knowing how much I love you.”

Tears gathered in her eyes, and she squeezed his hand. “I know, Tristan. I do.”

But his eyes never left hers, and he shook his head. “I came to your apartment to tell you”—he shook his head again—“to explain to you that?—”

“Don’t.” She shook her head firmly, not wanting to bring up the argument again. That was in the past; it was over—none of it mattered now.

But he squeezed her hand harder, as though pleading with her to stop. His gaze shifted to their daughter and lingered there for a long moment, his emotions so close to the surface they trembled in his voice—raw and unguarded.

Finally, he turned back to her, his tone soft yet resolute. “For the past few months,” he began, “I’ve let you tell me what you wanted, what you needed. But I’ve never once told you how I feel. What I need.”

His words were hard for her to hear, and for a moment, she was defensive—but there were no accusations in his voice. No blame.

“Deep down I didn’t think it mattered what I wanted. All I needed was to make you happy. I realize now that my silence was part of the problem.”

His eyes lifted to hers. “Maybe if I would have told you then. Maybe if I wouldn’t have been such a coward...” He closed his eyes, and his breaths became deep. “When I watched you being wheeled away from me, I knew I’d been wrong. All I did while you were in that operating room was pray for one more chance. One more chance, and this time I wouldn’t fuck it up.”

An overwhelming pain filled her chest, but she forced herself to remain quiet.

He dug into his pocket and produced a small blue box. “I bought this over a year ago,” he began, “before you left for New York. I was so caught up in finding the perfect moment that I almost lost my opportunity to give it to you at all.”

He opened the box to reveal a square cut diamond solitaire. “I realize now that my idea of perfection was flawed. Because perfect doesn’t have to be rose petals and champagne. Perfect can be Styrofoam containers and eating dinner on the kitchen floor when I’m with you.”

Tristan pushed himself from his seat, moved the chair aside, and took one knee on the tile floor beside her. “This isn’t the romantic setting I’ve always planned for, but I can’t wait even one more second,” he whispered. “I love you Samantha Smiles, but I can’t love you only as my baby’s mother.” He paused for a moment, letting the words she’d told him weeks ago fill the air between them. “I want more than that, and I think you do too.” His face was raw, but he didn’t shield himself from her. “I want to wake up with you every morning,” he said. “I want our limbs so entwined that I don’t know where you begin and where I end. I want to go to work smelling like your shampoo and come home to find you wearing one of my T-shirts. I want to argue with you about silly things and eat dinners made of Bar-B-Q chips, french fries, and ice cream because neither of us had time to cook. “I want you to call me when you’re having a bad day and let me listen to every word.” He paused for a moment, squeezing her hand a little tighter. “I want you to tell me when I’m an idiot, so I can make it up to you over and over again”—he took a deep breath—“and I need you to forgive me.”

His last words made her breath catch, because she hadn’t been expecting them.

He was right. She’d been angry for a long time, and she’d been holding onto it for dear life. He’d run away, yes, leaving her alone when she was at her most vulnerable, but she realized now he’d been dealing with a lot, too. He wasn’t perfect, but neither was she.

“I know I’m asking a lot. I'm asking you to trust me with the rest of your life, but I’m learning, Samantha, I swear to God that I am.

“Tristan,” she cried, pulling him toward the bed.

“Hurting you,” he said in her ear, “has been the only thing I’ve ever regretted in my entire life.”

She sobbed, her heart almost exploding. “Coming from you, that’s saying a lot.” She laughed.

“I love you, Samantha. And while I can’t promise you perfection, I can promise that until my heart stops beating, I’ll keep choosing you. Overand over and over again. I can’t promise we won’t struggle, but I can promise that I’ll walk through fire to make sure you’re safe. I can’t promise that we won’t fightbecause we’re both too stubborn, and I know that we will.” His forehead came to rest upon hers. “But I look forward to making up with you, repeatedly, because it’s what we do. That’s us.” He was quiet for a long time, and she basked in the flawed perfection of this moment.

“Marry me, Samantha?” he asked quietly. “Make me the happiest man in the world.”

She choked on a sob. “Yes! Of course I’ll marry you.”

Their baby yawned and stretched at that moment, making Sam realize they weren’t alone.

“What did you name her?” Samantha asked, glancing down at their daughter, who squinted at them both.

“Sawyer,” he replied. “Like you asked me to.”

Tristan met her eyes, and she realized she’d missed so much while she was sleeping. “Did you pick out a middle name?” she whispered.

He shook his head. “No, but I was thinking about Grace,” he whispered softly.

She placed one hand on his jaw and nodded. “Sawyer Grace Montgomery.” The name was perfect. Because for the nine months Sawyer grew in her belly, it was grace that she’d needed the whole time.

Tristan climbed into the bed beside her, as she nursed Sawyer again. Tristan’s head rested on her shoulder as they both stared down at the tiny human they’d created. Her tiny hand was wrapped around his finger, and he pulled it to his lips. “I’m going to love you so hard that no man will ever be good enough for you,” he said to her, his voice gruff and full of emotion.

Samantha smiled, as she remembered her own father saying the same thing. She’d held him up on a pedestal her whole life, only to later realize that everybody made mistakes—even amazing fathers.

She touched her daughter’s cheek, causing Sawyer to stir in her arms. “Then one day…” she whispered quietly to them both. “You’ll meet a boy…” She pulled in a deep breath, as every moment between them flashed before her eyes. “At first you might think you hate him.”

Her voice was low and reflective as she thought about their first kiss at the lake when she was sixteen years old. “But then you’ll wake up—and realize”—she turned to look at Tristan again —“that one day, when you least expected it, he turned into the man you’ll love for the rest of your life.”