22. Chapter Twenty-two
22
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
July
Present Day
The next morning, Sam opened her eyes at eight, still exhausted. Sleep had come in short sporadic waves, and her thoughts always came back to Tristan. Memory after memory floated in and out, and she seemed to have thousands of dreams, from teenage angst and adulthood grudges to steamy moments in their relationship.
Her stomach rolled with the baby’s movements, and she placed one hand on her abdomen. Mornings were the baby’s “awake” time, and the tiny flutters, hiccups, and small movements seemed to come at a rapid pace this morning. Sometimes she’d lie in bed for hours, her eyes closed as she relished the movements she knew were fleeting. In a few short weeks her baby would be earth-side, and she’d have to share him or her with the world. Right now, these movements felt like a secret. One only the two of them knew about, and she cherished every second.
With a sigh of regret, she rolled to her side and pried herself from the mattress. She’d already spent too much time procrastinating, and they needed to get back on the road if they were ever going to make it back to L.A.
She pulled a T-shirt from her overnight bag, yanking it overhead as she entered the bathroom. “It’s time to get up, little one. We have a long day ahead of us.”
After brushing her hair and teeth, she stepped out to the hallway wearing blue denim shorts and a white T-shirt which felt a little too small. She yanked the hem down her stomach as she moved around the tray of dishes stacked outside of Tristan’s door.She paused, taking a hair tie off her wrist then whisked up the hair off her neck and into a bun. They’d eaten the same meal last night. The same dishes, the same crumbs, their discarded trays only a few inches apart. She took a deep breath and continued down the hall, realizing they’d eaten a meal together, only separated by a wall six inches thick.
She arrived in the elevator feeling unsettled, but when she found Tristan already in the dining room eating breakfast, she took a deep breath of bravery.
She gathered a plate of breakfast from the buffetand sat in the seat across from him. “Good morning,” she said, setting her plate noisily on the table.
“Good morning,” he smiled.
Warmth swept over her skin as she thought about their encounter in the hall. Vowing to do better today, she placed a napkin over her lap, loaded her fork, and took a large bite of pancakes.
She found him staring at her plate.
“Did you eat?” she asked with her mouth still full.
He nodded. “Yes.” But his eyes were transfixed.
That’s when she realized it wasn’t her plate he was looking at. It was the sliver of her belly peeking out from her shirt. But it wasn’t just curiosity she recognized in his expression––it was desire. Heat crept up her body, and she adjusted in her seat, pulling her shirt lower. Even now, at eight months pregnant, one look from Tristan Montgomery could make her melt inside.
It had been so long since a man paid attention to her that she’d almost forgotten what it was like. She took a large drink of orange juice and shifted her gaze to her food.
“You should have woken me,” she said, knowing how hot it would be outside.
“Wasn’t necessary.”
She scooted forward, causing a high-pitched screech to fill the dining room. “We could have been on the road by now. It will only get hotter as the day progresses.”
“You were tired. You needed the rest.”
She took another bite of food, ignoring the fact that yet again, he was trying to make decisions for her.
She reached into her bag, flipped open her itinerary, and laid it on the table. “We need to get gas before we leave. The bathrooms on the road are questionable, so make sure to use the restroom before we leave the hotel.”
Tristan sat back in his chair seeming amused. “You weren’t kidding, were you?” he asked.
“Kidding about what?”
“Your itinerary.” He snatched it off the table. “Can I look?”
On autopilot she reached out to grab it––but paused––she really had no reason to keep it from him. Sure, his lack of manners infuriated her, but she’d meant to send him a copy weeks ago and had simply forgotten.
“Go ahead,” she finally conceded.
She continued to eat her breakfast, trying to ignore him as he flipped through the pages, but as his grin widened it became almost impossible. She could almost guess what he was smiling at. Her lists had always been a joke between them. Each one color-coded with bright metallic ink.
“What’s this?” he asked as he flipped to the very last page. The pink and blue columns were instantly identifiable.
“Nothing,” she said. Okay, so there was one page she wasn’t ready for him to see. She reached out to take the binder, but he lifted it higher, extending it out of her reach.
“What is this?” he asked softly, searching her face with an expression she couldn’t place.
She swallowed hard and lifted her chin. “What do you think it is?”
For a second, he only stared at her, his face growing paler than she’d ever seen it. “Baby names,” he said, as his eyes landed on the page again.
She sat straighter, sensing there was so much more happening at this moment than she realized. All the air left her lungs as she waited for his reaction to her innermost personal thoughts.
It was odd to think of them as thoughts, but that’s what they were—or maybe they were daydreams. She’d been adding to the list for months. Every time she found herself worried about the future. Every time her thoughts lingered to things beyond her control she found comfort in dreaming about their baby.
His brows furrowed with intense concentration as he read over the page. Nodding at times, then frowning at others. Eventually they’d have to agree on just one name, but until a moment ago this list had been hers alone. The realization that she now shared it with him made her chest ache. She wouldn't be making decisions alone. Tristan was there now.
After a while, Tristan looked up, and confusion marred his handsome features “Barkley?” he asked.
Caught off guard, she wiped over her mouth with a napkin and sat up a little straighter. “Yeah... like the basketball player.”
A grin began to form at the corner of his mouth then spread until it consumed his entire face. “Charles Barkley?” he asked. “But you don’t even like basketball.”
She bit her lower lip. “I’ve always loved his ‘I am not a role model commercial, and––”
Tristan shook his head. “I still don’t think?—”
She crossed her arms at her chest. “What’s wrong with Barkley?”
“Nothing,” he said, clearing his throat. “It’s a fine name” ––his fingers smothered his mouth a little–– “for a German Shepherd.”
Water slipped down the wrong pipe, and she coughed. She hadn’t thought about the name in that way before. Using a napkin to wipe her lips, she couldn’t stop the laughter from bubbling out of her mouth. “Jerk,” she called out, but was quickly relieved when he only smiled back at her.
“It’s not as easy as you think,” she began again, setting her napkin back on the table. “Baby names are hard.”
He shrugged, but there was something in his expression which piqued her curiosity. Like he was a little boy wanting to give his opinion in a room full of adults.
All the humor left her chest, replaced by something else. “Have you thought of any names, Tristan?” For some reason, she’d never considered it. Never thought about him having the same daydreams she had about their child.
He paused for a moment, as though thrown by the question. “Names?” he asked, adjusting in his chair as though uncomfortable. In an instant, his expression became very serious. His brow furrowed and he leaned back in his seat. As though her question was the most important question he’d ever been asked before.
She was suddenly filled with regret––thinking about all the months he’d missed of her pregnancy. “Have you thought of any names for the baby, Tristan?” she asked again, her heart squeezing at the thought of him shutting down.
He shook his head, making her stomach drop. “A few.”
She pulled in a relieved breath, while at the same time trying to get a grip on her emotions. “I’d love to hear them.”
Tristan shifted, pushed himself farther away from the table, then looked down to his feet—like a schoolboy asked to solve a math equation in front of the entire class.
“Come on,” she whispered, “just one.”
His ocean blue eyes lifted to hers, and his jaw grew taught in the way that told her the question weighed on him. “Sawyer,” he said softly, yet his voice was somewhat unsteady, as though saying the name aloud made him emotional. “For a girl.”
She broke eye contact, feeling lightheaded, and pushed away from the table. “I’ll have to think about that one,” she said––but not because she didn’t like the name. It was her reaction to him that scared her a little bit. She felt both emotional and sick at the same time. For months she’d convinced herself their relationship was over, yet one look from Tristan Montgomery could make her question everything.
“Sawyer is a strong name,” he insisted. “Girls named Sawyer don’t get pushed around.”
Her heart did a little flippy thingbecause the fact he’d thought in such detail about a name for their child made every blood vessel in her heart burst open. She covered her mouth with a napkin, not wanting him to think she was laughing, because it was quite the opposite. She almost wanted to cry.
“And for a boy?” she couldn’t stop herself from asking.
“I thought you said one ?” His grin was shy, almost boyish.
She calmed a little, then adjusted her chair and lifted her head up.
“Not Barkley,” he said when their eyes met. “That’s for damned sure.”
Sam didn’t think it was possible, because yesterday she’d almost died of heat exhaustion, but today was even hotter. Every ten minutes, she shifted in her seat, trying to find comfort, but every position only made her more uncomfortable.
“I’m going to call the moving company to fix this damned air conditioner,” she said under her breath, but it was an empty threat and they both knew it.
The air conditioner wasn’t broken, but impaired, and as ferocious as her bark, her bite was minuscule. They needed to get back to L.A., and the last thing she wanted to do was be stranded in the middle of nowhere, waiting for a repairman.
She rolled down the window to appease her sweaty skin, hoping the air on this tree-lined road would be refreshing, but as soon as the window cracked, gnats zipped into the cab. “Damn it,” she muttered, rolling up the window again as she spit one from her mouth.
Tristan’s brows pinched together as he watched her with concern. “Are you really that hot?” he asked.
She scoffed at the questionbecause, try as she may, she found it incredibly irritating that he wasn’t. “Yes,” she said frankly. “And you would be too if you were thirty weeks pregnant with our child.”
Tristan wiped over his smiling mouth, then turned toward the windshield, trying to hide his amusement.
She wanted to be angry with him for laughing, but she couldn’t quite muster it. Their relationship had started to feel normal again for the first time in months. She didn’t want to say or do anything to ruin that.
He reached into his bag a moment later, then thrust something in her direction. “Here,” he said.
She shook her head, waving off the water bottle he offered her. “I have my own,” she argued, gesturing toward the gallon-sized jug that sat beside her thigh.
He wasn’t deterred. He picked up the icy bottle and proceeded to hold it against her neck. “Here,” he argued. “This should help.”
She froze when his thumb grazed across her skin. For a second, their eyes locked, and an electric current coursed through her. His hand went still, the bottle pressed against her neck with a steady and comforting pressure.
She took the bottle from his hand, as goosebumps pimpled every inch of her flesh. “Thank you,” she whispered.
He shifted in his seat toward the road. “No problem.” Then his hand moved once again back to the steering wheel, but she could tell he’d felt it too.
She wasn’t sure if it was pheromonesor something else, but things had always been like that between them. A physical connection that was undeniable. She forced herself to look away, wondering if she would ever be like that with another man.
Eventually she leaned against the window, the newfound coolness of the water bottle offering her comfort, and swiftly fell asleep.
By the time she awoke, they were parked at a gas station, and Tristan was nowhere to be seen. The meter was clicking away at the pump, and she pushed away from the window, wiped the drool at the corner of her mouth, and tried to find him—but her gaze landed on the open itinerary on the seat. Without being asked, she realized that he’d followed her instructions to their next stop, and they’d finally made it to Ohio.
She let out a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding, and let the magnitude of that simple act sink in. Maybe they could do this. If they could get through this trip without killing each other they could do anything, including raise a child together. For the first time in a long time, she had hope that their future wasn’t lost. Unbuckling her seatbelt, she carefully climbed out of the truck to get some fresh air. Tristan was coming out of the mini mart carrying a brown sack and called across the parking lot to her. “The cafe is over there! Why don’t you go grab us a table?”
A waft of cool air conditioning hit Samantha’s face as she entered the cafe. She glanced around the homey space, inhaling the buttery scent of bread and home cooking that made her instantly relax.
“How many?” the woman with salt and peppered hair called from behind the counter.
“Two,” Sam answered, hitching her bag a little higher as she adjusted its heavy weight on her shoulder.
“Sit where you want,” the woman announced. “Menu’s on the table.”
Sam headed toward a booth in the far corner, but heaviness in her bladder made her turn in the opposite direction. “Where’s the restroom?” she asked.
“Down the hall,” the woman called. “Code is 4224.”
Locked into the single stall restroom, Sam cringed when she caught sight of her own reflection. Her hair was stuck to her cheeks and temples and melted mascara made her under-eyes appear gray and hollow looking. Releasing her ponytail with one swift yank, she let her wild mane fall to her shoulders and scrubbed over her scalp. Her hair had grown rapidly in the months of her pregnancy and now its blond ends landed at mid back.
She moistened a paper towel under the faucet, and began working on her face, wondering how long Tristan had been ignoring her appearance. Try as she may, she couldn’t seem to make herself presentable these days, even after spending nearly four-hundred dollars on a balayage that blended in her blonde ends perfectly.
By the time she returned from the restroom, she’d expected Tristan to be waiting for her at a booth, but he was nowhere to be seen.
She glanced toward the woman behind the counter and set her bag onto a table by the window. “Did a man come looking for me?” Sam asked.
The woman shook her head. “No, honey. No one’s come in here but you.”
Samantha paused for a second, then climbed into the booth, wedging her belly into the small space.
Movement out the window caught her attention, and she noticed Tristan across the parking lot—his cell phone glued to his ear.
She scrunched up her brow, wondering who he was talking to, but quickly dismissed the thought. “Mind your business, Sam,” she muttered to herself.
Tristan walked into the cafe a few minutes later, his hair windblown when he sat across from her.
“Everything okay?” she asked, meeting his gaze from above her menu.
“Fine,” he answered, forcing a smile.
“Who was that?” she asked, mentally kicking herself for being so nosy.
“No one,” he quickly replied.
Chills ran over her skin, and she clutched her menu a little tighter. For the first time since they’d broken up, she wondered if he was seeing someone else. She shouldn’t be surprised. Tristan had dozens of women waiting for a chance to land him. It was something she had a hard time getting used to when they were a couple.
The reality wasthathe had every right to date whomever he chose, but the acidity in her throat begged to differ. Try as she may, she wasn’t sure if she’d ever be okay with seeing him with another woman. Not that it mattered. They’d been broken up for over six months. It was only natural for him to move on. This was the twenty-first century and pregnant ex-girlfriend or not, he had every right to date whoever he chose.
She opened her eyes to focus on the menu but failed. Everything was blurry and distorted. Who was she kidding? The thought of Tristan with another woman tore her up inside.
“Do you know what you want?” he asked, making her head jerk in his direction.
“What I want?” she asked breathlessly.
His eyes narrowed, and he nodded his head. “Yes, have you decided?”
Was that up to her? Was he giving her that choice? She stared at him, blinking,when clarity finally hit. He wanted to know what she wanted to eat , not what she wanted out of their relationship!
“The Cobb salad,” she blurted out. Even though she hadn’t gotten that far in the menu and didn’t know if a Cobb salad was an option.
His eyes narrowed slightly, and she was sure she’d been caught. She’d have to explain why she was acting like a total lunatic. “There’s blue cheese in that, isn’t there?”
She took a deep breath and tilted her head to the side. “Yes, I think so,” she agreed.
His eyes met hers, his brow furrowing slightly. “That’s not good for the baby.”
Taken aback, she shifted her eyes toward the menu again. He was right. Soft cheeses held a risk of Listeria for pregnant women. “How did you know that?” she asked, holding a quiet gasp.
He shrugged, then picked up the glass of water their server had set at their table. “I’ve been reading baby books too, Samantha.”