Samantha lay one hand on top of his, and with the other, she reached up and stroked the side of his face as their heads touched and they stood still.
“It’s wonderful, Ryan.”
The sound of emotion clogging her throat threw him off, but he figured with everything that had happened in the last week, she was entitled to some space and time to deal with all the changes.
“Look around while I take care of our stuff. The kitchen is that way,” he said with a finger point, “and there’s a half-bath next to the pantry.”
After giving her a gentle squeeze, he let go and stepped back. He sensed some hesitation on Samantha’s part and wondered what it was about.
“Ryan,” she murmured softly. “Can I decorate for the baby?”
“Absolutely. This is your home too. Do whatever you want, honey. I’ll show you the upstairs in a bit, and you can pick one of the bedrooms for the baby.”
He lightly caressed her stomach, and this time, it was him choked with emotion. When he bought the big family house, he secretly hoped to fill it one day with what his heart really wanted—a woman who loved him, a house overrun with kids, and definitely a dog. Recognizing that all of those emotional wants were within his grasp was a humbling experience.
“Hey, everything’s going to be okay. I know this seems like a lot to take on, but we’ll do it together. Right?”
Her sigh wound around his heart and tugged. She was more precious to him than she realized. With much of their high-strung emotions directed at the baby, Ryan realized he had some work to do with Samantha. Things being what they were, they’d skipped right over the romantic declaration of love and fidelity and went straight to insta-family.
By the time he’d dragged their bags upstairs and handed over an enormous tip to their driver for being so helpful, he was sweating like crazy and anxious to get back to Samantha.
After filling a sports bottle with ice and water, he slugged down half, refilled it, and then went to find her. She was in the little den he used as an office, curled up on the end of a loveseat with her legs underneath her bottom, and a pillow wedged under an arm.
And on her lap? One of his sketch pads, which she was lazily browsing.
She looked up when he approached with a look of wonder on her face.
After a couple of years crammed into the teacup space of her tiny apartment, Ryan’s big, family-sized house was a bit overwhelming. And all she’d seen so far was the downstairs.
She found touches of Andi everywhere and laughed. The little downstairs powder room was decorated in a style Samantha recognized. They called it the Harley Look and had joked around about how easy Andi handled male clients after they got a load of her nod to testosterone.
Galvanized sheet metal hung on the wall behind the toilet, and all the accents were a manly blend of rustic looking wood and metal. It was actually kind of cool, and she had to admit, Andi had done quite a job. But what cracked her up, in the bathroom at least, was that in the midst of the masculine industrial space was a small crystal dish filled with pink and white potpourri rose petals.
The kitchen was picture-perfect and had a cozy breakfast nook with a curved window looking out on two side-by-side trees covered with bright yellow lemons.
As her eyes drifted around the immaculate counters and noted the lack of personal effects, she imagined a highchair next to the big island and a slew of baby bottles in the sink.
That was about the time she started to feel nervous. Thank god Ryan’s office was less open and magazine perfect. She wandered around the room, checking out what was in his bookcase, and stopped to inspect a grouping of framed pictures. There was one of him and Ali as kids dressed like Thing One and Thing Two. It made her smile. Another featured Ryan and his parents at what appeared to be an award’s ceremony. What struck her about that picture was how devastatingly handsome he was in a suit and tie.
Another picture, the biggest one, was the two cousins, Ry and Ky, when they were teens. They were proudly posing on a dock, each of them holding up an enormous fish.
The last one was a family portrait with a Christmas theme. It hit her, as she studied the happy picture, that next Christmas, she’d have a newborn.
The realization hit her hard.
She found the sketchbook after settling on a comfortable loveseat. Hauling the heavily used pad onto her lap, she flipped through the pages admiring Ryan’s obvious artistic talents and came to a dead halt when she found an entire page full of drawings depicting her.
Once the shock wore off, she studied his work. She noticed right away that he had a particular fascination with her hands—whether waving, holding up her chin in a relaxed pose, or just as part of the bigger drawing.
Flipping to the next page, she gasped and froze. Tears stung her eyes, and she was forced to sniff a few times.
It was her. A close-up of Sam’s face as she snuggled with a swaddled baby tucked in her arms. Finding so much emotion drawn into her expression, she struggled to keep it together.
He’d been drawing her while they were apart.
Sam counted her heartbeats and sat there in stunned silence as she took in what the image meant.
In all those weeks when they’d been apart and he hadn’t asked whether she got her period, it had been easy to assume he was hoping for a dodged bullet.
The emotional portrait in her lap told an entirely different story.
A slight noise in the doorway made Sam swing her head up to see if it was Ryan. It was. He was watching her as he crossed the room. In that brief instant, she saw him in a new light.
Expecting guys to share their feelings or open up about what secretly fed their dreams was an exercise in futility. But what she held in her hands told her so much more than mere words in a conversation.
He really did love her and had even included their child in the telling portrait long before the outcome of their wedding affair was settled.
She started to cry.
“No, no,” he said as he came to her side and took the sketchbook from her hands. “Honey, please don’t cry. I don’t think my heart can take it.”
It was astonishing how quickly she went from a teary sniff to shuddering sobs. With her face buried in his shoulder, he held her tight after dropping onto the loveseat and gathering her into his arms.
“Sam, you’re killing me,” he groaned. “What’s the matter?”
She was in the midst of an ugly cry and had to rub her fingers beneath her nose to stem the snot flow.
He pushed the hair back off her face and held her head in both hands. “Look at me,” he commanded. She raised her eyes and gazed at him through the tears. “Now, tell me what’s wrong.”
Chomping down on her lip, she stifled one last sob and attempted a watery smile.
“You drew the baby.”
The way he reacted was so damn endearing she had to destroy her lip to keep the tears from starting up again.
“Uh-huh.”
His deer-in-the-headlights look told her a lot about the man he was.
“Um,” he stammered. “I love you?”
Only Ryan would make a statement into a worried question.
“You love the baby, too.”
“Oh my god, Sam. You don’t even know. Every time I thought about a kid that we would make together, it gutted me. I had no idea that having a baby with the woman I loved would mean so much.”
“I suck,” she groaned.
“What? No, you don’t. Okay, maybe there are times when sucking is something you do extraordinarily well, but I’m guessing by your expression that wasn’t what you meant.”
“Know what, Mr. Smarty Pants,” she snipped with an indignant giggle. “Just for that, you don’t get a sappy, romantic lead-in.”
“Huh?”
Sam crossed her arms and stared at him like a librarian looking down her nose at a rowdy kid.
“I love you, okay?”
There was a long pause as he stared a hole through her and then he stoo
d up, scooped her off the sofa, and carried her out of the den office.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
He strode up the stairs with her in his arms without any heavy breathing.
“Have a bed to introduce you to. I’m thinking you need to do some rolling around, maybe some crawling too. Find out if you are okay with the mattress.”
A short laugh erupted from her throat.
“Rolling and crawling? I dunno, Ryan. Sounds exhausting.”
The shit-eating grin on his face when they made it through the bedroom door and he’d deposited her on the bed melted her panties right off.
“Not to worry, babe,” he assured her as he started taking off his shirt. “I’ll do all the work.”
Releasing a comical sounding, long-suffering sigh, she flopped back on the bed in a sprawl and said, “Well, I suppose.”
His good-natured laugh bounced off the walls. “Yep, yep,” he drawled. “That’s what I want. Total surrender.”
“Oh, goody,” she teased. “Then we should get along just fine.”
“Do you have any idea how hard it’s been for me not to show up on your doorstep? Hmmm? That man of yours, Sami. Jeez. Laid down the law before you even got off the plane. Said you guys needed at least forty-eight hours to settle in before we were allowed to talk.”
Sam chuckled. “The no-talking thing was a bit of a stretch but hey. I know what you mean now about the growling alpha act these Sommerfield men are so good at.”
She knew damn well why the guys cut off contact between them. Ryan admitted to telling Kyle about their pregnancy but was quick to assure her his cousin wouldn’t let the cat out of the bag to his wife.
Telling Andi she was pregnant was all on her.
Last night, she and Ryan FaceTimed with her parents. After charming her folks with his good-son manners, he announced their intention to live together. In Florida. Her parents were shocked first and elated second. Anything that cut her loose from the ‘difficult years,’ as her mom liked to refer to Sam’s life in L.A., was good with John and Judy Evers. In fact, they were thrilled she would be living so close to Andi.
Telling them about the baby was easier than Sam imagined. Ten seconds of ‘what the fuck’ followed by her mother’s emotional grandma-to-be meltdown turned what might have been a tense exchange into a full-throated expression of love and support for whatever they chose to do.
Less than three minutes after the video chat ended, Sam’s phone rang. It was her dad with just five words to say. “Let me talk to him.” Ryan gave her an anxious look, took the phone from her, and then walked away.
She waited on pins and needles. Making several circuits around the great room and kitchen, Sam nervously chewed a fingernail and stopped to water the aloe plant sitting next to a kitchen window.
Wondering what her dad was saying set butterflies loose in her belly.
When Ryan reappeared, he had the look of a man who’d walked the green mile only to find a last-minute reprieve waiting at the end.
“I think he’s calling off the hitmen,” he told her with a sardonic delivery. “But that didn’t stop him from gathering shotgun ammunition.”
“What does that mean?” she questioned. “My dad doesn’t have any guns.”
“You’re familiar with the expression, shotgun wedding, right?”
Yeah, Sam thought as she pushed the memory to the back of her mind. To be continued. She sure had a lot to share with Andi.
“I like this whole setup you have going on here,” she told her friend. They were rambling about Andi’s project studio—a large open room with floor-to-ceiling built-ins, tons of storage, and a convenient tile floor resembling wood planks that were easy to clean.
“Check this out,” Andi said, waving her closer. “It’s a vinyl cutting machine. With this, I can fashion wall decals and make labels using any font, color, and size I need. Used it extensively at a remodel my company did for a children’s treatment center. Picture Spiderman coming from the ceiling and a simple-to-read tag on every toy bin. Love it.”
“Speaking of the business, what’s lined up? Is Tara taking off making waves?”
“Pfft,” she snorted. “Ya know what, Sam? Tara is one of those people that when she’s good, she’s really, really good. But off the reservation, she became a complete nightmare. Her ready-to-quit assistant was elated when she resigned and has been holding down the fort until you’re ready to come on board.”
Oh, lord. There it was again. The offer of the to-die-for job where she’d be in a position to put her organizational skills to good use. Before she even thought about accepting Andi’s generous offer, she needed to come clean about being pregnant.
“We need to talk about that, Andi.”
“Yeah, whatever, Sami. Cut the crap. I’m not taking no for an answer. I need you,” she whined. “Especially now.”
“Why especially now?”
“We’d better sit down.”
“Andi. Come on. What’s the deal?”
Her friend grabbed Sam’s hand and yanked her toward an overstuffed sofa that looked like a shabby décor window display. It was pink and white, had big, heavily padded arms, and cushions you sank into.
“I’ve got news,” Andi drawled. She was smiling but had a little smirk happening at the same time.
“Okay.”
“I’m having a baby.”
Sam blinked in slow motion. Did Andi just say she was having a baby? A scowl of concentration stuck on her face.
“What do you mean?”
Andi barked out a laugh. “Kyle and I. We’ve been having nonstop wild and crazy sex. For months. Stopped all birth control before the wedding. One of us must be incredibly fertile because boom! Pregnant.”
“You’re pregnant?”
“Earth to Sami. Yes. Pregnant. Knocked up. Bun in the oven. Baby on board. You knew we were going to try. Why the shocked surprise?”
“Uh. . .”
“Told Dolores, by the way. Right away, my loving parent started counting on her fingers and decided we’d been, and I quote, fornicating before the wedding. She was less than thrilled. Called me a breeder. Honest to god, Sami, her sleazy reaction didn’t bother me at all. Matter of fact, I laughed.”
“Bitch.”
“So you realize what this means, right? John and Judy are going to be honorary grandparents. I can’t wait to tell your mom.”
Sam’s spine snapped to attention at the mention of her parents.
She grabbed Andi and pulled her into a huge bear hug. “Congratulations. I’m so happy for you.”
“But oddly speechless,” Andi observed calmly. “What’s going on, Sami?”
Sam fanned herself with her hand and chuckled. “Oh, my. This is quite a pickle.”
Andi’s questioning gaze never wavered. She took her friend’s silence as a jumping off point and simply went for it. Head first.
“Me too,” Sam quipped with a sharp chuckle. “Pregnant. Knocked up. Bun in the oven. Baby on board.”
Andi’s expression of stunned shock was hilarious. And then the screams of delight and wails of laughter broke out.
“Holy shit, sweetie! Do you know what this means?”
With a dry snicker, Sam said, “Yeah. It means not all birth control is created equal.”
Andi shot up from the sofa and pulled Sam’s hands to join her. They laughed and danced in a circle, whooping and hollering as they shimmied and shook in the ways of the mighty goddess princesses who’d gone before them.
They were waving their hands in the air and shouting Ya Ya with complete, unabashed abandon when Kyle and Ryan appeared in the door.
Kyle, with his tongue-in-cheek wit, looked at them and said, “You two do know that yaya in Greek means grandmother.”
“Yes,” Andi told both men with straight-faced sincerity. “Well, be that as it may. We’re calling Ya Ya for every alpha bride and girlfriend who ever lived!”
“Yaya,” Sam snickered.
“I’m
going to assume some secrets have been shared?” Ryan asked.
She and Andi started screeching like lunatics. “Oh, my god! We’re pregnant.”
Kyle looked at Ryan and shook his head. “Did you hear that? They’re pregnant. Not, we’re all pregnant,” he drawled with a swirling hand motion to indicate all of them.
Andi launched herself at Kyle and hugged the crap out of him. She went to Ryan and wrapped her arms around his waist as he flung an arm over her shoulders.
It was Andi who brought the house down and sent them all into a fit of laughter when she looked at Sam and quirked a goofy grin.
In her very best Yoda-infused voice, she declared, “The sperm is strong with these Sommerfield men.”
Yes, it was.
“Feel better?” Ryan asked Samantha as they waited in the drive-thru line for their Whataburgers.
“My parents know. Check. Andi and Kyle know. Check-check. I like their idea of telling yours and Kyle’s parents at the same time. Cut out the middleman.”
He laughed. “You mean the phone?”
It was lighthearted banter, and he was enjoying every second. This was the simple, juicy awesomeness of their relationship. They genuinely liked each other and established an instant rapport to prove it.
Loaded up with enough takeout for a block party, they headed for home and chatted about the newlywed’s happiness and how the universe truly did move in mysterious ways.
He didn’t intend to blurt out what he did, but worrying about holding it in as pee ran down his leg was kinda stupid. Weird comparison, but there you have it.
“Your dad wants an answer about the getting married thing.”
Her reply made him do a double take. “How nice for him.”
Hmm. His hands tightened on the steering wheel as he considered her answer. She either was signaling a don’t-go-there warning or something else was going on in her head.
The Wedding Affair (The Affair Series Book 2) Page 23
