Page 42 of Without You, Scotch and Sammy 2

I took him out for pizza again, and though last time was because I worried he was hungry, this time it was because I just didn’t want to go home.

I want to see her so desperately my bones ache, but when I do, I get angry. I don’t want to be angry anymore, but when I try to talk myself down, I remember the time she stole from me, and the baby I’ll never know.

I keep going around in circles, and though I’m exhausted and would actually love to go back home and just call a truce, maybe enjoy some baby snuggles and somehow objectively ask Sammy how her life has been otherwise, I can’t find that inner peace I so desperately need.

One single look into her beautiful eyes, and my fingers twitch to catch hers and hold on. One look at how fit and stunning she is and how soft and straight her hair looks, it all takes me back to painful places and the anger rolls around again. Because without anger, I hurt. And even more than wanting to get over the anger, I want to stop hurting.

I drop Mac home at six, then drive back to my apartment and look around the parking lot at the back of the garage. My bike is still under the tarp, but there are no other cars. I have no clue if she’s here or not, since the hotel is within walking distance, and she walked here this morning.

I climb out of the car and slam the door shut. Walking toward the stairs, my heart stutters when I find a folded-up stroller frame at the bottom.

That’s not mine.

So I guess they’re here.

I move up the stairs quietly, because I’m not a total asshole and I saw the way she flinched earlier every time we made noise while Lily slept. I don’t want to wake the baby if she’s sleeping, so I take my boots off before I reach the top landing, and silently open the door.

I walk into the dark apartment, though I see the TV flickering in the next room, and I place my boots on the floor in the kitchen. I empty my pockets and dump my keys and wallet, and grit my teeth when coins noisily roll along the counter and drop to the floor. “Shit.”

“It’s okay,” Sammy calls out shyly. “She’s awake.”

Her voice is still pretty. Goddamit, I’ve missed her.

I take my cell from my back pocket, checking the screen and finding a couple texts from Nancy, but I don’t open them. I just toss my phone down and grab a soda from the fridge.

My gaze comes up at the soft shuffling of socks on carpet, then Sammy emerges at the doorway between the two rooms with a snuggly Lily resting on her chest and a slight limp to her shuffle. “Hello.”

I nod, and cracking the can in my hand, I take a long swallow.

“I’m sorry we’re still here… I wasn’t exactly sure where we were with everything, but either way, I wanted to stick around to tell you I was sorry.”

I nod again and lean against the fridge.

“You said you had a spare room, and that you weren’t leaving, so…” She shrugs shyly. “I have to do everything right to make sure I keep her, so I guess, with your permission, we’ll be staying here.”

I nod and drink some more.

“I’ll keep her as quiet as possible. We won’t be a bother--”

“Don’t have to keep her quiet. I won’t be here that much anyway.”

Hurt flashes in Sammy’s eyes, but she nods. “You don’t have to stay away because of us. We’ll hang around our room when we’re here. We’ll stay out of your way. I won’t make a mess and I won’t screw with your DVR or anything.”

I shrug again. “Whatever. I don’t watch much TV anyway, so I doubt there’s much to screw around with.”

“Lily only has formula, and I’ll buy my own groceries. We won’t touch your stuff. I just need a little electricity for her bottle warmer. I’ll pay rent and all of the utilities from now until we leave.”

“It’s fine, Samm-- It’s fine.”

“I just want to make this as easy as poss--”

“Where are your folks?”

Her lips freeze on her last word, and her eyes bore into mine. “My folks?”

“Yeah. Where are they? They don’t live here anymore. I checked. Did they die yet?” I can only hope.

“They live about three days drive from here, last I checked.”

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