Reunited by Their Pregnancy Surprise

by Louisa Heaton

  ‘Let’s go back to the hotel.’

  She nodded, understanding his intent, and together they left the dancing group.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  NEITHER OF THEM said anything on the way back to the hotel. They walked with purpose, through the evening light, and in their hotel room, surrounded once again by luxury, Emily suddenly realised just how much of a long day they’d had—the flight, the taxi ride, dinner, exploring Paris, and then telling Sam how bad things really were.

  She felt she wanted to refresh herself. Wash away the travel. Take a few moments to prepare herself for this. They hadn’t been intimate for such a long time and she wanted it to be perfect.

  ‘I’m going to take a shower.’

  Sam nodded.

  Inside the shower room, Emily turned on the hot spray and removed her clothes. Stepping beneath the powerful refreshing water, she gasped at the feel of it on the back of her neck before turning around to face the water and look for soap.

  That was when she became aware of the fact that Sam had joined her. She heard the glass shower door open and then sensed his presence.

  Smiling to herself, she sighed in delight as she felt Sam’s hands slide over the skin around her hips, before he slid them over her belly and pulled her back against him.

  Emily closed her eyes with pure elation. She could feel him. Every familiar inch of him. His hands sliding over her breasts…his fingers splaying as they rubbed over her sensitive nipples. Leaning back into him, she allowed herself to enjoy the moment as his lips caressed her neck. She had not felt his touch for so long! Too long.

  The last time Sam had joined her in the shower had been in this very shower, on their honeymoon. They’d just come back from visiting the top of the Eiffel Tower, watching the city from its viewing platforms and taking photographs. They’d hired bicycles and cycled around Paris in the midday heat, and by the end of the day they’d both been sweaty and tired. They’d fallen into the shower cubicle with giggles and laughter, holding onto each other as they kissed each other and covered each other in foam, their limbs sliding over each other.

  Here they stood once again.

  It gave Emily a strange sense of déjà-vu. Shivering, she closed her eyes as Sam’s hands once again sought her peaked nipples. The heat and spray of the water, the feel of his fingers upon her, the way he kissed and nipped the skin on her neck and collarbone, his lips brushing like feathers…it was utterly delightful.

  ‘Oh, Sam…’

  He turned her to him and cupped her face, bringing her lips to his.

  Oh, I’ve missed his touch…

  A few weeks ago she could never have dreamed that they would be like this. She’d stood over a suitcase, planning to leave him! She’d felt angry at him, frustrated that he would never talk to her, or allow her to explain how she was feeling. He’d never listened—he’d ignored her, stayed away.

  She’d never believed she would have this again.

  Those days she’d spent worrying about what would happen when he woke from his coma had been swept away by the realisation that Sam couldn’t remember the last two years. That, for him, their relationship was in a totally different place. And the baby! He’d not reacted badly to the news either—which she didn’t want to think about. Didn’t want to question.

  All that mattered was the touch of his hands upon her, the feel of his arousal against her, the clear signs that he wanted her, wanted the baby, that he was happy despite his memory loss. And that they were reconnecting.

  We can get through this. We can do it together.

  A wave of tiredness swept over her, but she pushed it away. All these hours they’d spent awake—the travelling, the waiting in the airport, the long day. Her exhaustion was catching up with her, but she couldn’t let it overwhelm her. She had waited for this moment with Sam. Had craved this intimacy between them. Something which had been sadly lacking for too long.

  How many nights had she lain awake in bed, waiting for him to come home? Waiting for him to come to bed just so she could feel the security of him next to her on the mattress even if he did turn his back?

  Too many times.

  How many times had he stayed away? How many times had he left her wondering where he was actually sleeping? So she’d had to go tiptoeing through the house at night until she found the room that he was in?

  Too many to count.

  How did she know whether he would do it to her again? It had to be in him, didn’t it? The rejection of her. The rejection of the baby. Even if it wasn’t in him now it was part of him. He had already done it to her. He just couldn’t remember. When would it start? Was it already brewing? Was he already having secret thoughts that he was holding back? What if he used her right now and then in the morning cast her aside?

  Feeling afraid and confused, Emily turned her back to him. She needed a moment. To think. To breathe.

  Sam ran his fingers through her long wet hair and reached past her for a shampoo bottle. Squirting some into his hands, he began to stroke it into her long locks, gently massaging her scalp, making sure he touched every strand, every length, trying to make the experience pleasurable for her.

  She pressed her hands against the wall of the shower cubicle and gave in to the massage. It felt so good to be loved by Sam again. Cherished. But she wasn’t sure what she should be thinking. Should she just enjoy what he was initiating? Or turn and tell him the full truth? Take the bull by its very sharp, pointed horns and tell him everything?

  Emily pressed her hands against the tiled wall, feeling its reassuring, very solid presence.

  I can’t. I’d risk everything. It’s best he doesn’t know I was going to leave him.

  The head massage was soothing. Too soothing. She felt as if she might almost drop off to sleep, it was so nice.

  Emily held her head under the shower so that the shampoo would be washed away. The hot suds ran down her body, trailed by Sam’s hands, his fingertips, a feather touch down her back, over the swell of her hips and bottom and the sides of her thighs.

  Then he was reaching past her for conditioner, and as he smoothed on the cold creamy hair product, smoothing it down the hair that almost fell to her waist, she let out a long sigh of pleasure.

  She dipped her head under the spray once more, then turned to him. The heat within the shower was becoming too much. ‘I need to get out. Cool down.’

  He kissed her shoulder. ‘I won’t be a minute. Get into bed. I’ll join you soon.’

  Emily stepped out and grabbed a large fluffy bath towel, which she wrapped herself in, and then left the steamy shower room.

  The hotel suite felt much cooler, and it was as if there was more air. Breathing more easily, she removed the towel and rubbed at her long hair, then padded across the suite in her bare feet towards the bed. She smiled as she slipped beneath the covers.

  Tonight she would reclaim her husband.

  Tonight she would get him back for good.

  *

  Sam turned off the shower and grabbed a towel to wrap around his waist and another to rub at his wet hair.

  The shower had felt good. But it was even better to have shared it with Em. It was time for them to grow close—especially as he’d spent the last few days stuck in his office at the house, trying to catch up on all the paperwork that had accrued in his absence. Trying to look at business growth charts and financial losses, turnover and profit, stock ordering systems and staff training reports, and all the other reams of paper that had just seemed to grow out of nowhere and had almost brought on a headache.

  Two years’ worth of catching up had caused him to fall asleep there more than once! He felt sure that Em wasn’t approving of that, but she hadn’t complained. Not really. She’d given him a worried look or two, whenever she’d popped in with a coffee, or to say goodnight, but that was to be expected after his accident.

  Now they were in Paris, and for him it felt like the first time. Sitting across from Em in that restaurant and seeing the love i
n her eyes for him had warmed his heart. And then later, when they’d danced together, it had been clear they hadn’t touched for an age, and it had been painfully exquisite to take her in his arms once more and see the hope and elation in her eyes.

  He was eager for them to improve their relationship. To find the marriage they’d had at the beginning, before the arguments had started. They’d been good together once, but hearing how he’d been with her had rung too true. He could imagine himself trying to avoid the question about having babies—could picture himself staying away, thinking that if he did that at least then they wouldn’t be arguing. That somehow he’d be trying to save her from pain.

  Sam threw the towel he’d been drying his hair with to the floor and stepped out of the shower room. He’d only kept her waiting for a few minutes—he felt sure she wouldn’t have minded.

  Em lay in the bed, her naked back to him, her still drying hair spread out over the pillow.

  Smiling, he lifted the covers, removed the towel from his waist and slid in next to her, his hand roving over her naked hip and around her thigh.

  ‘Hello again, gorgeous…’

  He waited for an answer, and when he didn’t get one he propped himself up in bed and peered over at her face.

  Was she asleep?

  ‘Em?’ he whispered. ‘Em?’

  She breathed steadily, her eyes closed, her face in a truly relaxed state.

  She’s exhausted! Must be all those hormones…

  His hand resting on her belly stilled. There was a slight—ever so slight—roundness to it that hadn’t been there before.

  Our baby.

  Sam laid his head down onto the pillow as he spooned his wife. How would he deal with what was to come? Could he do it? He’d have to, wouldn’t he? The baby was already happening. Already growing within her.

  He wasn’t surprised that he’d not been able to find a way to tell her about Serena. He had always kept that part of him close. Tightly boxed away, never to be shown the light. But perhaps by doing that—by not telling Em—he had caused a different rift. One he could never fix. He hoped not. He hoped that there was still happiness ahead for them both. Perhaps he could find a way to tell her about his baby sister?

  Sam swallowed hard. I’m not sure I can. He’d spoken about it to nobody. Even his own family didn’t talk about it to each other. He’d learnt that from them. You take the hurt, you stamp it down and you bury it—bury it deep, where no one will ever see it. You don’t mention the disturbed soil, you don’t mention the empty crib, you don’t say anything when you see someone crying. You stay away from all of that.

  It had worked for him thus far, hadn’t it?

  No. Your wife was miserable!

  He would have to hope this trip would give him time. Time to find a way through his concerns and fears about being a good, protective father.

  Because it was real. The baby was in there, growing. He had seen it on the scan and it had taken his breath away.

  Maybe a son. Maybe a daughter. Like Serena. If it was a girl, would he ever truly relax? Would he stand watch over her every night? Checking her breathing? Checking she was still okay?

  Was that even possible? Not twenty-four hours a day. But how could he keep his baby safe? If something happened to their child Emily would be distraught! She might blame him.

  And if it were a boy? Would he be any more relaxed? No. He supposed they could get a baby monitor that alerted you to your baby’s breathing. He supposed he could get a camera for the baby’s room, too. But would any of that make him feel better?

  Sam wasn’t sure. But what he did know was that they were against the clock. He had six months to get his head around this. Six months either to accept what was happening and get on with it, or…or what?

  Sam cradled his wife’s abdomen. The baby was safe for now.

  He could only hope that it would stay that way. And they were making inroads in their marriage too. Coming here. Spending time together away from work. But there was work to do here too…on their marriage.

  It took some time, but eventually he fell asleep, his eyes finally closing on the shadows crossing the room and the constant glow of light touching the ceiling, coming from the Eiffel Tower…

  *

  ‘Let’s hire some bikes,’ Sam suggested, a big smile on his face.

  Indulgently, Emily smiled back, tearing a piece from her croissant as they breakfasted alfresco on their hotel suite balcony. It was a beautiful summer morning and she’d had an excellent night’s sleep, waking to find herself snuggled into Sam’s warm, inviting body.

  ‘We did that the last time. And I don’t want to get exhausted again.’

  Em felt terrible for having fallen asleep last night. They’d both been expecting to become more acquainted, and yet the second she’d lain her head upon the pillow she’d gone off to the Land of Nod. Waking this morning to see the sunlight streaming through the windows, and having a distinctly empty memory of any recent lovemaking, had made her feel incredibly embarrassed and awkward. She’d slipped out of his arms and gone outside to the balcony.

  ‘I meant those little moped things. I heard someone say yesterday that they rode around Montmartre and had an amazing time. Let’s do that. No energy required.’

  The buttery croissant was light and fluffy in her mouth and she swallowed it whilst smearing another piece with jam. ‘Okay…sounds fun. What do you want to do in Montmartre?’

  ‘Whatever takes our fancy. Let’s just ride around and explore.’

  ‘Okay.’

  It sounded a great idea. They hadn’t done that before, and she relished the idea of finding somewhere new to explore together. They needed to spend time like that. Who knew what might trigger his memory? Why not try something different?

  ‘It’s going to be another lovely summer’s day.’

  ‘It’s always a lovely summer’s day when I’m with you.’

  She smiled. ‘Ditto.’

  ‘I’m going to get dressed. You enjoy breakfast. You need your strength. Don’t want you flaking out on me.’

  The croissant went dry in her mouth and guilt made the breakfast suddenly unpalatable. She hadn’t meant to fall asleep last night, but the second she’d got into the bed she’d relaxed and closed her eyes for just a moment…

  Sam must have felt so disappointed when he’d got out of the shower and found her fast asleep. Yet he was being so gentlemanly by not mentioning it.

  But what could she do? It was done now, and he was obviously trying hard to not focus on it. She should do the same thing, too, and get ready for their day in Montmartre.

  When she went into the bedroom she gasped to see a box upon the bed, tied with a bow. ‘What’s that?’

  ‘Open it.’ Sam grinned.

  Puzzled, she sat on the bed and untied the bow, sliding off the ribbon before opening the box. Whatever was inside was wrapped in pale pink tissue paper, and when she opened that she gasped out loud. ‘Oh, my goodness! When did you get this?’

  Inside the box was the beautiful powder-blue dress that she’d spotted in the airport shop when they’d passed by at Charles de Gaulle. She’d pointed it out to him, had oohed and aahed at the dress in the window, but they’d hurried on, eager to get to their destination.

  How had Sam arranged this?

  ‘Sam…’

  ‘I couldn’t resist. I know it probably won’t fit you in a few more weeks, but…I wanted you to have it.’

  She stood up and draped it against her, checking herself in the mirror. ‘I love it, Sam—thank you. I’m going to wear it today.’

  ‘On a moped? Why not wear it tonight, when we get back? We could go out for a meal.’

  She nodded. ‘Perfect. Thank you.’

  ‘You’re worth it. I love you.’

  She stroked his face, loving this side of Sam. ‘I love you, too.’

  He grinned. ‘Okay. Get dressed and let’s get ready to ride!’

  *

  At first Emily wasn’t t
oo good at riding the moped. But after a few false starts, where she kangarooed along the road, and a bit of extra tuition from a patient Sam, they finally got going and rode through the city, out towards Montmartre.

  They stopped and parked on the Rue Jardieu, to get off and have a good look around the area, famed for its street painters and artists. They walked towards the Square Willette and gasped in awe at the sight of the Basilica de Sacré-Coeur—the beautiful, pure white Byzantine church that looked down the hill at them as if surveying all that it could see.

  ‘That’s just beautiful, isn’t it, Sam?’

  ‘It is. Should we go take a look around?’

  She nodded.

  They took their time—walking through the square, then up the terraced stairs, past a musician playing the harp, to whom they gave a few coins—and finally they stood in front of the wonderful, imposing building.

  There were three arches, and above them bronze statues of a saint and a king, welcoming them in, After taking a photo or two, they stepped inside, into the cool interior.

  The beautiful three-domed church was lit by dozens of stained glass windows, surrounding the building, and they walked around quietly, respecting their reverent surroundings.

  Emily felt the need to slip her hand into Sam’s, and she watched as Sam stopped to light a candle and stood back to stare at it, as if in contemplation.

  She frowned, wondering who the candle was for. Sam still had both his parents and all five of his siblings. Was it for a grandparent? It seemed a strange thing for him to do, and she wondered about the Sam that she didn’t know. There had to be something. Back in his past. And it was something he clearly hadn’t forgotten about after his accident. An old memory? An old pain?

  She knew Sam had secrets, and it had always pained her that he’d never chosen to share those with her. Why hadn’t he? Was it because of the arguments, the distance between them? Why hadn’t he told her about them when they weren’t arguing? He’d had time. They talked to each other about most things back then. It hurt to think that he was keeping part of himself hidden, that he didn’t trust her.