Page 92 of The Man I Love

Samantha didn’t stop him.

When she turned around, Tristan was in the door frame, his hands braced along the molding like it was taking all his strength to keep himself there.

She opened her mouth to speak, to explain that she hadn’t known why Steven kept coming over, but he shook his head, stopping her.

“I was unfair to you yesterday,” he said in a soft voice.

She was so surprised by his words that her throat closed with emotion.

“I shouldn’t have raised my voice,” he began again, “but hearing you’d called Steven ...” He shook his head. “It was me you used to call when you needed help, and I ...”

She opened her mouth to speak, but he stepped closer.

“You didn’t have a choice. I wasn’t there for you. And you did exactly what made me fall in love with you in the first place. You didn’t give up. I left you broken and disappointed, yet you did what you needed to do.”

His eyes locked onto the fruit basket that sat in the middle of the dining room table. It took up half the space, but he didn’t even seem to care about it. “I’d be lying if I said I was okay with him being here. I’d be lying if I said that him being around our child doesn’t make me crazy inside. I’d also be lying if I said I wasn’t scared to death that you’ll one day regret not choosing him over me.”

Tears rushed to her eyes, and she moved toward him, but a gush of water whooshed to the ground at her feet.

Her eyes widened, and she looked down at her legs. A steady flow of fluid ran down her thighs, audibly hitting the wood floor. She froze, and everything seemed to echo inside her ears. “I think my water just broke,” she stated.

Panic filled her chest, and she glanced around the room. “I don’t remember what to do.”

“I’ll call the doctor,” Tristan offered as he rushed toward her.

She nodded. “My phone is in the nursery.”

He jogged into the room, coming back a moment later with the phone already ringing. A contraction hit her like a tidal wave and her knees buckled. She stumbled forward, bracing her weight against the chair and focused on the wall ahead of her.

“Breathe.” Tristan was instantly behind her holding onto her hips. “In and out, just like in birthing class.”

She wasn’t sure how he got there so fast, but he was whispering in her ear, telling her everything would be okay, and she latched onto every word. He continued to talk to her as the contraction intensified, adding pressure to her back and hips that helped ease some of the intensity that grew by the second. “You good?” he asked when things had started to calm.

She nodded, even though her chin was quivering.

He began racing around the apartment again, gathering her bags, shoes, and other belongings. Eventually, the doctor came on the line, butSam was in the middle of another contraction and couldn’t talk.

“Hi. Yeah. Her water broke about fifteen minutes ago,” Tristan said. “Ummm…about every six minutes?”

By the time he hung up the phone, his face was white. “He wants us to go to the hospital,” he said.

“Now?” For some reason she started crying.

Tristan grabbed a pile of towels out of the closet and wrapped one around her waist.

“Can you call Renee?” she asked when they were down in his truck. The contractions were coming so fast she could barely think straight. She wasn’t ready for this. Wasn’t prepared. This didn’t seem right. It all felt too fast.

Tristan called Renee on speakerphone after fastening his seatbelt. “Hey, sis, it’s me. Sam’s water just broke,” he said to her voicemail. “We’re on our way to the hospital. Contractions are less than five minutes apart. If you get this, call me.”

He disconnected the call and reached across the center console, placing one hand on her thigh. “You’re doing great, baby,” he said. “You’re in control, and you can handle this.”

His words made her smile. They were the affirmations he’d memorized from their birthing class.

She grabbed his hand, squeezing it tightly as another contraction rolled over her body, this one climbing to a newlevel. A sudden realization made her panic. “We don’t even have a name,” she said, her laborious moan making her words seem more pathetic.

Tristan put the truck into reverse, glancing over his shoulder as he backed out of the lot. “That’s because we’re terrible people.” He turned to face her, threw the truck into drive, and winked.

Despite herself, she laughed. “Ow, ow, ow?—”

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