26. Chapter Twenty-six
26
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
July
Present Day
The sound of a rooster’s crow startled Samantha from a dream—one about Tristan—that was so hot and heavy she immediately shifted to see if she was still dressed. She was, but Tristan’s heavy thigh was now tangled with her own, his hand on her belly, and his face so close to hers on his pillow that they practically touched noses.
She immediately turned away, taking a full breath.
He moved. “Sorry, I?—”
“It’s okay…”
His voice was groggy and husky. She slipped her thigh from beneath his heavy one and rolled toward the edge of the bed. “Habits,” she murmured. And it was true. That’s all it was...right?
She placed her feet on the floor and sat on the edge of the bed. The light was still dim through the window, showing the sun hadn’t fully risen in the sky. She got up to use the restroom, but when she turned around his eyes were on her stomach.
Her shirt had risen slightly while she slept, and her cotton panties were now visible for the whole world to see.
Not the whole world.
Just him.
His eyes drifted up to hers, and she held completely still.
He hadn’t touched her, yet she could feel him all around her. It had been months since he’d looked at her that way. With heat. With desire, and somewhere along the way she’d convinced herself she was no longer desirable. Her stomach too round, her skin too stretched— yet here he was, telling her with absolute certainty that wasn’t true. Every cell in her body lit on fire. She swallowed, remembering what usually came next.
Her eyes fell to the floor, and she slipped into the bathroom, locking the door behind her. She needed air. Needed time to process all that happened. The good—because for the first time in months they had talked as though they were friends. And the bad—because they had crossed lines, and she wasn’t sure how to get back.
For the rest of the morning, they were silent. They just packed up their things and were back on the road after sunrise. By noon, heat overwhelmed her again. The cab was sticky, and sweltering, filled with the repulsive heat of Utah. She comforted herself knowing they only had about seven hours left until they reached her apartment. For the millionth time on this trip, she cursed the moving truck company for thinking this truck was fit for human occupancy. She wasn’t sure if it was possible, but the air blowing around the cab seemed hotter than the heat, which visibly rose from the street in translucent waves.
Samantha shifted in her seat, counting every minute, every second, until she was finally home.
“Are you okay?” Tristan asked—which was the same question he’d asked at least a hundred times since they’d left New York.
She closed her eyes and tried to pretend she was at the beach somewhere. “I’m fine.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.” But even to her own ears, she sounded irritated.
Discomfort spread like a disease over her entire body. Her nerves were razor thin, but she was determined not to take her frustration out on him. “It’s the hormones, I think. My body feels like it’s on fire.”
“Let’s stop, get a cold drink somewhere?” His eyes met hers in the rearview mirror.
“We just stopped. If we keep stopping, we’ll never get anywhere.”
“We can stop again.”
“No.” And it was final. She didn’t want to stop. She didn’t want a drink. She just wanted to hurry and get this trip over with, so she never had to see this moving truck again.
He didn’t say another word after that—but twenty minutes later the truck began to slow, and she opened her eyes to see they’d veered off the interstate.
“What are you doing?” she asked, sitting up.
“Detour.”
She looked out the window, seeing no signs sending them in another direction.
He took a right, then another, and soon parked the truck in front of a body of water. Groups of people and families were splashing around, and before she could ask what they were doing here, Tristan hopped out of the truck.
His hands then gripped the edge of his T-shirt as he walked around the cab toward her door. He lifted it over his head, then opened her door, and tossed it on the dashboard. “Come on,” he said. “Let's go for a swim.”
She almost laughed. Out of discomfort, or the pure audacity at what he’d just done, she wasn’t sure. “I’m not going swimming, Tristan. I don’t even have a bathing suit with me.”
“Who cares?” He took off his boots, one at a time, and threw them into the cab. “Come on.” He flashed his devilish grin, then stood there with his hands on his hips.
She licked her lips, because the sight of him standing at her door wearing only Levi’s was too much. Part of her wanted to give in––but she couldn’t. Not because of the heat, because he was utterly irresistible. His hair messy, his face full of stubble, and his smile so infectious that a part of her wanted to shove her hands into his hair, yank him forward, and kiss him in a way that would ruin her. Instead, she shook her head and crossed her arms at her chest. “You go.”
He shrugged his shoulders. “Suit yourself.” Then he walked to the edge of the water until his bare feet disappeared into the lake. The sun was on his back, making his bronze skin almost golden. It was moments like this where she wished things were different. Where she could throw caution to the wind and not care about a broken heart. But she had to stay strong. She had someone else to think about today.
She pulled in a breath and rested her hand on her stomach, but he turned around at that moment and his expression fell—as though he’d expected her to follow him.
She raised her brow. “Having fun?”
He shook his head, widening his arms in exasperation. “All you’ve done is complain about the heat. Will you just get out of the truck and into the water already?”
She shifted in her seat and shook her head. “I’m good.”
That must have set him off. His grin turned impatient as he stalked toward her. Her eyes widened, and a giggle bubbled up from her throat. She knew that look.
Pushing back in her seat, she fumbled to lock the door, but it was too late. In a flash, he was in the truck, unbuckling her seat belt and sweeping her out of her seat.
“What—” she pushed at his chest as he cradled her in his arms, “—are you doing, Tristan Montgomery?” All the air rushed from her lungs, but her attempts to wriggle free left him completely unfazed.
He walked directly into the water, not caring that she still wore her shoes. The more she struggled, the deeper he went.
“Tristan!” she yelled. “Put me down!”
Her voice wavered between indignation and disbelief, and before she could stop herself a nervous giggle escaped her
He didn’t put her down. He threw her into the lake!
“Oh G—!” Before she had time to even hold her breath, she was submerged in the icy water. Her feet hit the bottom of the lake, and she pushed up, her head surfacing a second later. She wasn’t sure if it was the shock of what he’d just done, or the freezing temperature of the lake, but she instantly began shaking. She spit ice water from her mouth and turned to face him again.
“Feels good, right?” he asked, grinning with boyish mischief.
“People are staring at us,” she hissed through clenched teeth.
“So?” He grinned wider and pushed her head under the water again.
“I can’t believe you did that!” she sputtered as she came up, water streaming down her face. Her ears pulsed with anger, her vision blurred by rage.
“Do you feel better?” he asked, his tone annoyingly calm.
“No, I don’t feel better! My shoes are soaking wet!” She scooped up a handful of water and hurled it at him with as much force as she could muster.
He only laughed, his grin somehow widening. “They’ll be dry by the time we’re back in the truck.” He splashed at her, sending a wave of water crashing into her chest.
“If you think I’m getting back in that truck with you, Tristan Mont?—”
She didn’t finish, because a perfectly aimed splash hit her square in the face.
She backed up a step, unbelieving, and suddenly, she was transported back to middle school. Her competitive spirit ignited like a blowtorch, screaming for her to get revenge. She stalked toward him, but his smile became infectious.
This was what he wanted. He’d intentionally brought her here, intending to start this fight, but she didn’t care.
She splashed his face. Once, twice, and a third time, trying to wipe that smug expression. “I can’t believe you!” she yelled between each splash. “Who do you think you are?—”
BAM! More water pummeled her face.
“That’s it,” she said, and something inside her flickered to life. She no longer cared about the people around them or the fact that she was making a complete spectacle of herself. All she cared about was getting.
Tristan.
Montgomery.
The water around them turned into a chaotic tidal wave as they splashed with reckless abandon. She could barely see through the spray, but when she squinted, she noticed Tristan’s face turned in the opposite direction. Her heart leapt—it was her chance.
Without hesitation, she lunged, swooping her arms around his neck and pulling him backward, sending them both tumbling into the water.
He came up sputtering, wiping over his face to clear his eyes, but soon her leg was swooped out from under her, and she was yanked toward his chest. She froze, feeling his bare skin pressed against her wet shirt and breasts.
His face was close to her ear, his arms cradling her body like a child. “Truce,” he whispered softly, causing goosebumps to travel over every inch of her skin. It all happened so fast. Lust ignited in her abdomen, at first like a small candle, but then his jaw brushed her hairline and that flame grew hotter, setting her body on fire.
Despite the heat, which spread like wildfire, she found herself trembling, remembering the last time he held her this close. Who was she kidding, memories of everything she’d so desperately tried to forget came rushing back. His scent, his touch, his voice, and every instinct told her to move away from him before it was too late—but she couldn’t. Her body wouldn’t let her.
He went utterly still, his eyes boring into hers, and his grip softened at her rib cage.
A sexual charge shot through her, from the tip of her toes, all the way to her lips. His hands moved along her back, and his ragged breath became like a symphony in her ear. His lips then found her cheek. Not kissing but resting. Her head fell against his shoulder, and she let out the breath she’d been holding since he’d left her in the kitchen six months ago. She couldn’t hold back anymore. Couldn’t resist. She wasn’t sure what was happening, but she wanted it. Wanted it more than anything she’d ever wanted anything in her life.
“Samantha,” he whispered. It was one word, but she understood him. He was asking for a second chance. Practically begging.
Passion scorched her insides, and she could barely think anymore. Why was she holding back all this time? What had even happened in the first place?
He set her feet on the ground and turned her to face him, his thumb grazing her bottom lip. His eyes locked onto hers, intense and searching, asking silent questions she didn’t have answers to. Then, without hesitation, he dipped his head, and his mouth claimed hers without asking for permission.
The kiss was soft at first, so delicate that she feared even the slightest exhale might blow him away. She held her breath despite herself—just one kiss, one last touch, one fleeting moment to hold onto…
Then the kiss became bolder, more urgent, and his tongue slipped inside her mouth. Soon all resolve was shattered, and the pent-up emotions from the past six months were yanked to the surface. He lifted her from the water and kissed her harder again, this time more passionate, yet filled with something that had nothing to do with sex. It was urgent, yet slow. Loving, yet desperate. It was the best kiss she’d ever experienced—so perfect it made her dizzy. And yet, her heart raced in a way that wasn’t entirely pleasant, her mind screaming for it to stop, to pull away, to breathe before it consumed her completely.
She felt like a steam kettle ready to explode, like if she didn’t get away, she would die. With urgency like she’d never felt before, she pushed at his chest, feeling like she couldn’t breathe. He immediately put her down, almost dropping her in his haste.
If the water hadn’t been beneath her, she would have stumbled backward. She was hardly strong enough to stand—but she did, backing away on shaking legs as though he were something dangerous.
She spun away, her breaths coming in panicked gulps as she struggled to clear her thoughts. Tears threatened to spill, but she clung desperately to the fragile thread holding her together.
“Samantha.” Tristan was behind her again. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.”
“Are you sure?”
She opened her mouth to repeat herself, but then Renee’s words came to her out of nowhere. She couldn’t ignore them anymore. Couldn’t stop them from screaming inside of her head. How can you move on when you haven’t even talked about what happened?
She stopped walking, then lifted her chin with the knowledge that she couldn’t hide from this any longer. She couldn’t pretend like the last six months without him hadn’t gutted her. It wasn’t fair to him. It wasn’t fair to them.
She spun to face him, and her body shivered. “You left,” she said softly. “You left, and didn’t even give me a chance to explain.” Her words came without warning, with no transition from the passion they’d just experienced to this—yet—he understood. Finally, after all these months, the anger, the hurt, and all the things they’d never talked about were coming to the surface.
He raked his hands through his hair and met her eyes, as though silently asking if this was really where she wanted to have this conversation. Right here? Right now? With all these people watching?
She held her ground, wrapping her arms more tightly around her abdomen as she waited for him to speak. It was now or never. Because she wasn’t sure she’d ever have the guts to bring it up again.
“My father was in your apartment”—his voice was raw, full of gravel—“do you even know what that felt like?”
She could feel his emotions radiating from two feet away. “You should have let me explain”—her hands trembled, but she no longer tried to hide them—“but you ran. You left without even giving me a chance.”
He looked down to the water, closing his eyes to shut her out, but she continued anyway.
“You saw your father and thought the worst of me.” Her voice became more frantic.
“It happened so fast?—”
“I ran through the streets looking for you.”
His eyes met hers.
“I was so desperate to find you that I missed my gallery opening.” Tears ran down her cheeks.
Genuine remorse flashed in his eyes, but he remained silent and perfectly still.
She glanced away, for the first time acknowledging how much she mourned that night. It was her big event, and she’d missed the whole damned thing because of him. He needed to know––to see and feel her anguish. He needed to know what he’d left behind when he’d gone.
“I’m sorry.” His voice was soft, and ragged. He stepped forward.
She held up a hand. “I believe you are. I believe with my soul that you’re sorry, but that’s not good enough anymore.”
His eyes narrowed. “Sam?—”
“Fool me once—shame on you. Fool me twice…”
His eyes narrowed. “What does that even mean?” He searched her face like she’d lost her mind. Like he had no idea what she was talking about. But she’d run it through her mind a thousand times. She wasn’t crazy.
“You always assume the worst of me. You never trust me.”
He still didn’t seem to understand, “What are you talking about?”
She decided to spell it out for him. “At Renee’s wedding, when I was saying goodbye to Steven—you assumed the worst of me then. You wouldn’t even answer my phone calls so I could explain.”
His face fell with acknowledgment. He remembered. All those years ago when he’d again thought the worst.
“I gave you the benefit of the doubt back then—we’d only been together a few days and trust takes time to build. But apparently, two years wasn’t long enough either, was it?”
His hands were in his hair now, tugging on its length.
“And the thing is, it’s not just you and me anymore. I still love you, Tristan. Sometimes, I think I love you more than myself, but we’re having a baby. A baby will be here in only a couple months whether we’re ready or not.” Her hands trailed down to her belly.
“It broke me when you left. I wanted to die, it hurt so much, and it wasn’t until I realized I was pregnant that I found the will to live. Every night I would lay awake thinking about how I would ever do this alone. How could I possibly raise this child without you, but the truth is, I can’t—and I don’t want to. You’re going to be an amazing father, Tristan, and your child needs you.”
His eyes were red-rimmed, but he shook his head as though he didn’t understand. Or maybe he just didn’t want to hear any more?
“I spent the last six months forgiving you. Promising our child that I would move on, and I did. I forgive you Tristan, I forgive you for everything, because this child needs two loving parents. A mother and a father who work together and are there for everything. But to do that, this”— she waved a hand between the two of them— “can never happen again. Because it would kill me the next time, and I swear to God, I will never let my baby see me that broken.”
His face was contorted, but he took a step closer.
She held up her hand. “The physical part”—she choked back a sob—“has always been easy. We have chemistry, you and me.
For so long I thought it was fate—like a gravitational pull, we had no control over.” She paused for a long time, letting her words sink in. “If it were just you and me, I wouldn’t care. I’d ride this wave over and over until we hit rock bottom. But I can’t. I won’tbecause I need to keep loving you—as my baby’s father. And I need you to keep loving me—as your baby’s mother—and I don’t think that will happen if we ever hurt each other like this again.”
He was crying now, but she forced herself to turn in the opposite direction, knowing if she stayed, she’d have to pull him into her arms and comfort him. She kicked off her shoes when she got to the shore, then picked them up one at a time as she headed back to the truck. She felt empty inside, but she climbed into her seat and fastened her seatbelt. She didn’t look back to see what he was doing, even though she desperately wanted to. She couldn’t— because she’d left a piece of her heart behind in that lake, and she didn’t have the strength to watch it die.