Page 59 of The Man I Love

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 beingasked, 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 theycoulddo 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 waftof 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 withone 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.

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