Page 42 of The Man I Love

“No!” Sam yelled. “No, I can’t...” Her body shook. “I can’t do that.”

“Okay.” Renee grabbed her shoulders, forcing Sam to look into her eyes. “Listen to me.” She gently shook her head. “You don’t have to answer. You don’t have to talk to him now, you hear me? It’s okay.”

“Wh-wh-why? Why did it take him so long?”

“I don’t know,” Renee smoothing away hair that was stuck to her cheek.

“Wh-what does he want?”

“I wish I knew.”

“I- I ca-n’t talk to- him now.”

“You don’t have to.”

Samantha sat back on the bed, laid her head on her pillow, and closed her eyes. “I-I-I’ll call him back l-a-ter.”

“Okay,” Renee whispered.

The song ended, and the room fell into silence again, but Sam’s thoughts were now filled with Tristan. Where had he been? Why was he calling? And more importantly, how would she tell him about the baby?

18

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

February

Six Months Earlier

Los Angeles

“Hi,this is Sam. Leave me a message.”

Tristan stared into nothingness as the smell of disinfectant permeated his nostrils. He’d planned to hang up if she didn’t answer, but the second he heard her voice, his body stiffened. “Hey, Sam—it’s me.” The words came out on autopilot, and he cringed, realizing the first words to Samantha inthree weekswould be heard through a message.

Hang up.

Hang up.

Hang up, you bastard!

But he didn’t hang up, he went silent. Silent for too long. “I’m just calling”—his eyes closed with remorse—“to say I’m sorry.”

He hated the way he’d left things. Hated that it had taken him so long to pick up the phone. He still didn’t fully understand what had happened that night, but he knew he should have stayed and talked it out. He should have been stronger.

Waiting three damned weeks to call her was a mistake—but each passing day had made it harder. Every day added weight to the phone, especially when his life was already crumbling under the weight of so many failures.

And now, finally, he was here.

He dropped his head back on the headrest and stared at the ceiling, wondering how he’d fucked things up this badly.

He took a breath, then another, and looked around the waiting room. It was filled with people. Some looked bored, others distressed.

“Call me back when you get this,” he finally said, then pulled the phone from his ear, and let it fall heavily onto his lap.

What. The fuck. Was that?

Blood was pounding at his temples, making his head throb with pain. He squeezed the bridge of his nose, trying to ease it, to get a grip on his emotions, but it felt impossible. In a few moments, they would take him back and prepare him for surgery, and the fact that he still hadn't talked to Samantha tied his stomach in knots.

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