Page 82 of The Man I Love

“I’ll be there,” he said without hesitation, his eyes searching hers as though asking what it all meant.

“I’ll text you the address when I get home,” she said, pivoting on her heels before he could say more.

The moment she was alone in her car, she took a deep breath and squeezed her eyes shut, resting her forehead on her fists, which gripped the steering wheel so tightly that her knuckles were white.

“Please don’t let this be a mistake,” she whispered. “Please don’t let me fuck everything up.”

31

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

August

Present Day

Samantha arrivedat the birthing class five minutes early, but Tristan was already there—the only single guy in a crowd of couples. He looked awkward and out of place, pushing himself off the wall when he noticed her. His face was clean-shaven, his hair styled back from his face. He must have showered after she’d left him. He wore blue jeans and a soft gray T-shirt that made him look painfully attractive. Stares from everyone in the class followed him as he walked across the room until he stopped directly in front of her. “Do you come here often?” he asked, adding a flirtatious tone to his voice that after all these years, still gave her goosebumps.

She wasn’t in the mood—and rubbed her forearms briskly to relieve them. “How long have you been here?” she asked, her tone slightly anxious as she took in the eccentric space. The scene could have come out of amiddle school dance—right down to the snack table in the corner of the room that was full of fruits and crackers.

“Just a couple minutes,” he answered, tilting his head to the side as though analyzing her reaction.

A woman Sam assumed was the birthing instructor made eye contact and moved in their direction. “You must be Samantha,” she said in greeting, holding out her hand for a shake. “My name is Avery. I believe we spoke on the phone?”

“Yes, that was me,” Sam answered.

“And I’m assuming this is your partner?” She turned toward Tristan.

“Tristan Montgomery,” he replied. “Thank you for having us.”

The instructor grinned, obviously charmed by his manners, then walked over to a stack of yoga mats, and handed him one. “I’m so glad you two could make it,” she said.

She continued toward the middle of the room, not wasting another second, and raised her arms overhead to get the group’s attention. “Good evening, everyone. Welcome back.”

The entire room quieted instantly and turned in her direction.

“As you can see, we have some new friends joining us this evening, so let’s give them a warm welcome.”

The entire class erupted in applause and Samantha’s cheeks grew warm. She didn’t like attention on a good day, but today her emotions were razor close to the surface. Tristan’s news about his company felt like a rug had been snatched from under her feet while she was still standing on it. He’d kept the secret for too long, and the unsettled feeling in her chest had been growing ever since she walked out of his office.How many others knew about it? Why hadn’t they said anything?

Because—the reminder pounded in the back of her mind—she’d told everyone to mind their own business.

Because—her internal voice nagged, dripping with irritation—every time they tried to talk to her about Tristan, she suddenlybecame busy, or found a way to direct the conversation to something else.

“Let’s start by introducing ourselves,” the instructor announced. “Marcy and Peter” ––shepivoted toward the couple on her left— “will you go first?”

Marcy swallowed a bite of foodandthen handed her plate to her partner. “Of course.” She wiped her mouth, then waved her hand in the air like an eager high school cheerleader.

“Hi everyone”— she giggled— “I’m Marcy, and thishandsome devilis my husband, Peter. I’m thirty-five weeks along, and we’re anxiously awaiting our little boy, Luke.” She then promptly sat down on their waiting yoga mat, and her husband followed without a word.

“Hi, I’m Hope,” the next couple began. “This is my husband, Scott, and we’re having a girl. We will name her Sarah.”

Couple after couple began introducing themselves, all of them married, joyfully sharing the name they’d picked out for their child. Samantha became hyper-aware of how unprepared her and Tristan were for this baby.

Not married. No name. Barely speaking until a few days ago.

When the welcome train finally stopped at their feet, she was incredibly self-conscious. “Hi, I’m Samantha,” she began. “This is Tristan—we’re not together. He’s only my father—I mean...” she closed her eyes before opening them again. “He’sthefather. We don’t know what we're doing.” She sat down on the mat, feeling completely mortified, but Tristan remained standing—like she hadn’t just given a group of complete strangers way too much information they never asked for.

Tristan flashed his white teeth, smiling in that relaxed way of his. “We’re having a baby girl, and we’re still arguing—I mean”—he winked at Samantha— “decidingon the name.”

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