What the ever-loving fuck is going on?
I wake to bright sunshine streaming in though the crack in my curtain, but that’s not what’s giving me a pounding headache this early Saturday morning. No, it’s the thunderous noise coming from outside.
Grumbling, because I’d wanted to sleep in after an emotional couple of days, I slide from my bed. My sheets, a tumbled mess from all my tossing and turnings, pool at the foot of my mattress.
Ever since my fight with Zander, I’ve not had a decent night’s sleep. I put my hand on my stomach, and once again, tears well up inside me. I haven’t even told my family about my pregnancy, and I’m not sure what the future holds for us, but I vow to my baby to be the best mother I can be.
Zander is an amazing father, and even though he doesn’t want me, he said he’d fight for his rights. But he doesn’t have to fight. I’m not about to keep his child away from him. I love him, and care for him, and no matter what he might have said to me, I would never strike back and use our child as a pawn.
Slowly, I make my way to the window and pull open the curtains.
I stand there, dumfounded, as huge tractors and other types of construction equipment fill my yard.
Another big bang hits the side of my house, and I nearly jump from my skin. That’s when my sleep-deprived brain jolts awake, and understanding dawns.
There is a construction crew outside—and they’re working on the wrong house!
Panicking, I tug on a pair of yoga pants, grab last night’s T-shirt off the floor, and don’t even bother combing my hair. I need to put a stop to this before they do any more damage and I’m responsible for repairs. Business might be picking up, but I have a long way to go before I can afford renovations to my home. I dress quickly, run to my front door, and swing it open.
“Hey,” I yell, not to anyone in particular, but my voice is swallowed by the noisy equipment. I step outside and, barefoot, I run around to the side of the house, where the most noise is coming from. Once there, I find a crew of men cutting into my exterior wall.
I gulp and wave my hands frantically. “Stop, please stop!”
“It’s not safe for you to be out here, especially with no shoes on,” a man says from behind.
My heart jumps into my throat at the sound of Zander’s voice.
I spin around, and when I come face to face with him, my world goes a little fuzzy around the edges.
“What are you doing here?” I rush out. My God, it’s the crack of dawn on a Saturday morning. Why would he be up and at my house so early?
Wait, has something happened?
“Where’s Daisy?” I ask. “Is she okay?”
“Isn’t that just like you.” He waves his hand. “All this going on and your concerns are with Daisy.” He takes a step toward me. “She’s fine. She’s with Quinn.”
“Zander, what’s going on? You need to help me stop these guys. They’re tearing into the wrong house!”
“No, they’re not,” he says.
I shake my head, try to make sense of it all.
Zander puts his arm around my waist, and I let him lead me away. We step into the house, away from all the dangerous equipment and noise, and he closes the door behind us.
“What’s going on?” I ask, planting my hands on my hips. “Why is there a construction crew tearing down my wall?”
“It’s all part of our agreement, and I’m simply holding up my end of the deal.”
“What deal?” I ask, unable to decipher his cryptic words this early in the morning.
“I told you, as long as we were together, I’d do repairs around your house. You wanted an exterior entrance to your office, and I hired the right people to do it. My skill set only goes so far,” he says, his grin so adorable, it takes all my strength not to hurdle myself at him.
But then I remember where we stand.
My heart crashes a little harder in my chest as he hovers in my entranceway, his presence overwhelming me. “But we’re not together,” I remind him, and take a measured step back. Being close to him, feeling his heat, catching whiffs of his scent, it’s all messing with my mind. “You accused me of some pretty horrible things, then walked out, remember?”
His nods, and his nostrils flare as he rakes a shaky hand through his mussed hair. Cripes, he looks like he hasn’t slept in a week. At least he’s in clean clothes, unlike me.
“Come with me,” he says, and takes my hand. He leads me to the kitchen, and he reaches for two wine glasses. I blink, unable to figure out what’s going on as he goes to my fridge and fills the crystal stemware with milk. “No alcohol. We have to think of the little one,” he says as he fills the goblets.
I stand there staring at him, waiting for him to make the next move. He hands a glass to me and holds his up in a toast. Our eyes lock, hold, and I almost laugh—hysterically. I’m not worried about having bad sex for the next seven year, because I won’t be having sex at all. How could I ever be with another man after him? He may have hurt me, but that doesn’t mean I don’t still love him.
“Never have I ever been such an asshole,” he says.
I put my glass down, in no mood for games. “Zander—”
“Never have I ever made such a colossal mistake in my entire life,” he continues.
His words pound against my ears, and I go still a moment, to mull over what he’s saying to me. Silence takes up space between us as we stare at each other, and I finally break the quiet with, “I have to agree.”
“Sam, this is all my fault,” he says, his eyes so full of pain it softens something inside me. “I take full responsibility for everything. Everything—including the pregnancy.”
“Pregnancy takes two people, Zander. You’re not fully responsible.”
He sets his glass down and takes my hands in his. “I ruined everything. Not you. I should have been better than the men you’ve had in your life. You deserve so much more from me.” He glances at my belly. “So does our little one.”
Oh my God, what is happening?
“The things I said to you…there was no excuse. You see, Sam, I wanted you in my life. I wanted for us to be together, and I wanted to have a family with you.”
“Wanted?”
He cups my face, lightly brushes his thumb over my cheek as my pulse pounds against my ears. “I still want. I want all those things, with you.”
“I…I want those things with you, too. I never…meant to get pregnant.”
“I know that. I’m a dick for the things I said to you. I sabotaged us. Because I was scared. Because I—”
“I understand,” I say, cutting him off as my heart swells, presses against my rib cage. “You had plenty of reasons to be afraid.”
“But don’t you see, I shouldn’t have been afraid with you.” He dips his head, his mouth close to mine. “Not with you, Sam. Never with you. You are the kindest, most honest woman I know. I swear to you, if you’ll forgive me, I’ll never be afraid again.”
My pulse beats against my throat as my mind recalls all the cruel things he said, the things he accused me of. “You really hurt me.”
“And I plan to spend the rest of my life making up for that. I want us to be together. I want this baby for us, for Daisy.”
My gaze moves over his face, searches for signs of uncertainty. But I find none. “Are you really sure that’s what you want? I don’t want you to resent me down the road, or think I ever tried to trap you.”
He picks up our glasses and hands one to me. “Never have I ever trusted anyone, or wanted to be with anyone, more than I want to be with you,” he says. He holds his glass out and doesn’t drink, because he’s telling the truth.
I lift mine, bring it to my lips—and his mouth drops, deep worry taking up residency in his eyes. He knows if I drink, it means I’ve trusted someone more than I trust him. Wanted to be with someone more than I want to be with him.
I press the goblet to my lips, and his entire body tightens. He lids drop, and he clenches down on his back teeth with an audible click.
I let him suffer for a split second…then lower my glass.
His lids lift, his blue eyes full of hope and love as they move over my face. “Sam?”
“Never have I ever wanted to be with anyone more than I want to be with you.” I say, and he lets loose a breath. “But I couldn’t make it too easy on you, Zander. You did hurt me.”
“Never make it easy on me, Sam.” He exhales loudly once more, and holds his glass up again. “Never have I ever loved anyone the way I love you.”
I don’t take a drink, and he takes my glass from my shaky hand. He sets both goblets on the counter and pulls me in to his arms and kisses me deeply.
I hug him to me, absorb his warmth and comfort.
“I am so sorry, Sam. I want to take care of you, and love you the way you deserve to be loved. I want to help you around here, support you in your practice. I want you to move in with me, and if the commute becomes too much, we’ll find you another location, or turn a part of my—or rather, our—place into a practice. Anything you want. But those are thoughts for another time. Right now, I’m asking for your forgiveness, even though I’m not sure I deserve it.”
My heart soars as he lays his on the line. I can’t stay mad at him. I love him with all my heart and then some. “I accept your apology.”
“Hmmm,” he says, his eyes narrowing like he’s deep in thought.
“What?”
He cocks his head playfully. “I’m not sure how I feel about you accepting my apology so readily.”
“Really?” I ask, confused, but I know he’s up to something by the mischievous grin on his face.
“You see, I came here ready to tie you to the bed and grovel until you forgave me.”
“Maybe there’s still a part of me that’s angry,” I tease.
He scoops me up and carries me to my room. Once inside, her sets me down and runs his knuckles over my cheek. “I love you, Sam.”
“Never have I ever loved anyone the way I love you, Zander.”
He presses his forehead to mine and blinks rapidly. His breath is coming a bit faster now. “Will you marry me, Sam? Will you be my wife, and Daisy’s stepmother?”
“No,” I say quickly.
His head jerks back, worry backlighting his gorgeous blue eyes. “No?”
“I don’t want to be Daisy’s stepmother.”
“I…I’m sorry. Yeah, maybe that was pushing it. I guess, ah…you’re not ready for that. You don’t want a ready-made family. I think…I—”
“Zander,” I say, and press my finger to his lips to quiet him. “I want to be your wife, and I want to be Daisy’s mother, not her stepmother. I want us to be a real family. I want to legally adopt her.”
He takes a shuttering breath, water pooling in his eyes. No longer able to hold back my own tears, I let them fall freely, and they slide down my cheeks and wet my T-shirt.
Zander sniffs and wipes at his face. “You’re killing me here, Sam.”
Laughing, I wrap my arms around him and kiss him deeply. “Now, what was this you were saying about tying me up?”
He picks me up, and I wrap my legs around him as he carries me to the bed. As he falls over me, kisses me with all the love and passion inside him—all the trust—it dawns on me that we didn’t get what we once had back…but what we have here now is so much better.