Page 47 of The Man I Love

It had been four weeks since The Gallery opened, four weeks since he’d disappeared, and now he stood in her living room. This fact should have surprised her—but it didn't. He’d called three times yesterday and once this morning. When she didn’t answer, he’d gotten on a plane and showed up on her doorstep.

Stupid, stubborn man.

She glanced down at her hands, noticing the slices of bread now balled together as if they were dough. “It’s okay, Margaret,” she said again, trying to keep her voice even. “You can go.”

“Are you sure?” Margaret asked. “I can call the cops.”

Samantha shook her head, realizing how protective Margaret had become of her since she’d become pregnant.

She could feel Tristan’s gaze on her. Feel the intensity in the room rise with each passing second.

Margaret eventually walked back downstairs, and Sam waited until she was gone before moving to the fridge. “I was about to make a sandwich,” she said, filling her arms with a jar of peanut butter and jelly. “Can I make you one?”

Tristan didn’t answer. He came into the kitchen with footsteps that were hard and slightly uneven. “I tried to call,” he said quietly.

“I know.”

She placed the jars on the counter, then took two new pieces of bread from the bag and set them on her plate.

“You didn’t answer.”

He moved closer, but the limp in his step made her pause—had Margaret actually hit him with that stick?

She opened the jar of peanut butter, smearing a thick glob across the bread.

He was beside her now, his presence so close it made every hair on her arms stand on end. “Why?” he asked, his voice calm, yet laced with a heat she could feel on her skin.

Her eyes fluttered closed, and she resisted the urge to lean into him. “Do you really need me to answer that?” She turned around.

He was less than six inches away, a total invasion of her personal space, but that was who he was. What he did.

“Samantha—” His jaw flexed, but there was a quiver in his chin that was almost her undoing.

“You disappeared!” she said through clenched teeth. “You ran away without giving me a chance to explain!”

She focused on her sandwich, on spreading the peanut butter over the breaking bread, then tried to open the jelly. “You didn’t call me for weeks.” Her tone softened. “The only reason I knew you were okay was because of Renee.” She slammed the jar back on the counter when it wouldn’t open. “I thought we were stronger than that! I thought we could get through anything.”

She forced the two slices of bread together, no longer caring about the jelly, and shoved the sandwich into her mouth. “But I guess I was a fool to think that way, wasn’t I?” she asked with her mouth full. “I guess I was a fool to think you’d stick around to the end.”

He grabbed her wrist, turning her to face him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

His grip was gentle, but his touch burned her skin. “It’s my own fault for being so naïve,” she whispered. “Like father, like son.” The fire in her belly had been so hot that she hadn’t been thinking correctly.

His entire expression changed in an instant and he dropped her wrist. She almost choked on her sandwich. How could she say that? “Tristan I—” But it was too late. She reached out to touch him, but he shrugged away, so hurt he wouldn’t even make eye contact.

The apartment went completely silent, and a shiver shot up her spine.

He walked toward the steps, and she realized he was about to walk away again. Panic filled her chest. No…no…

STOP!But her mouth was dry…her throat completely closed.

NO!

His boot hit the first step, causing every cell in her body to scream. “I’m pregnant!” she blurted out.

His steps halted, and he turned on his heels.

Everything became silent.

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