~ Twenty-Four ~
The doorbell chimed a few times, and Sam got up to answer it, but was only halfway down the steps to the foyer when she heard the key, and the front door swung open.
Colton was standing there. He didn’t see her at first, because he was working the key out of the lock, and glancing toward the alarm panel, frowning when he realized it hadn’t been armed.
Then he looked up and saw her.
The change in his expression was truly something to behold. The frown seemed to literally melt away, replaced by a slow smile that gradually widened. Sam stood in place, watching him look her over, feeling her heart quake at the naked wanting in his eyes. Not desire. This wasn’t sexual. It was the look someone had when they finally lay eyes on a long-lost and very dear friend, whom they hadn’t seen in much too long a time.
“Sam,” he said.
“Yup.”
They both stood in place.
“This where you’ve been?” he asked, noting her bare feet, the leggings and tattered t-shirt.
She hadn’t gone to her mother’s for dinner after all, not able to contemplate how to even begin to lie to her about all the things that were going on in her life. Between moving out of Colton’s and now a pregnancy … She could only imagine how her mother would react.
Even Leah had agreed that Sam wasn’t a good enough liar to pull it off and was better off staying away until she was willing to put everything on the table.
“Yeah. Right here the whole time.”
“Your sister’s a big, fat liar,” Colt said, but he was still smiling. “And she threatened to have me shot.”
“All in the pursuit of a good cause,” Sam teased.
“What happened to your tenants?”
“There are no tenants. I kept it listed on Airbnb.”
Colt frowned again. “You lied to me?”
Sam nodded.
“Why?”
She shrugged, then inclined her head in the direction of the steps. “You want to …?”
Nodding, Colt shut and locked the front door, then followed her upstairs.
They sat across from each other—Sam on the couch, and Colt in the chair Leah had vacated just a few hours earlier. They stared at each other until he sighed.
“It’s been a kinda shitty week,” he said matter-of-factly.
Sam smiled a small smile, but already felt the tears pinpricking at her eyes. “For me, too.”
“Why’d you lie about having tenants?”
“I don’t know. I guess I wasn’t sure about …”
Colt nodded and looked down. “About us. Right. And I confirmed all that for you, huh?”
“No.”
He looked up. “No?”
“No.” Sam shook her head. “And, wait … if you thought I had tenants, what’re you doing here?”
“I was planning to tell them I was the property manager, and fish for information on when you might be coming over again,” he admitted.
Sam laughed. “And what if they recognized you? What then?”
“I’d have winged it,” he grinned. “Maybe told them that people are always telling me I look like that basketball player, Colton Green.”
Sam worried a loose thread on the edge of her seat cushion and looked down, spotting the pregnancy test that still sat on the coffee table, atop a pile of magazines. Colt hadn’t noticed it yet, and since he was a guy, there was no telling whether he would even know what it was if he did. He might have to pick it up and see the indicator in the window before he would even have an inkling about what it was.
“I don’t know what I’d do, Sam,” Colt began. He was shaking his head. “I don’t know what I’d do if you weren’t in my life in some type of way. I mean … if you don’t want … if this … if what you …” He paused and took a breath, licked his lips then tried again. “If you don’t want to be with me in the way we have been, then …”
“Colt, no. I do.”
His shoulders sagged. “Then what the hell you doin’ over there?”
Sam practically vaulted herself over the coffee table and into his lap, and then they were kissing, and he was holding her so tight it felt like he might break her, and when the kissing stopped he nuzzled the side of her neck, her shoulders and beneath her chin.
“Stop sniffing me,” she said, squirming.
“No. I can’t.”
Sam took his face in her hands to still him. She looked him in the eyes and exhaled deeply.
“Colton. There’s something … I can’t even think how to tell you, so I think I’m going to just show you, okay?”
“Okay?” He became very still, seeing something on her face that told him that might be for the best.
Sam reached behind her, keeping one eye on Colt as she did. Finding the pregnancy test, she held the wand tight in her fist.
“We fucked up,” she said. “Well … I fucked up.”
Colt pulled back a little, his eyes wide. “Did you just cuss, Samantha?”
Then she held up the wand, inches from his face.
“Fuck,” he said.
One of Sam’s favorite teachers ever was Mr. Mosley.
He was her—and Drew’s—instructor for AP English. He read to them every class, even if only a few minutes. He said there was nothing like hearing language spoken aloud.
‘On the page, language can be … flat,’ he said slamming his palm atop a book and making everyone jump. ‘When you read aloud, it lives.’
Mr. Mosley was prone to flamboyance when he read. His intonation kept everyone rapt in their seats, and even when he had to change voices to portray different characters, he did so with exuberant expressions, sweeping gestures with his hands, and walked about the room, assuming their personalities.
At first, it all seemed a little weird to Sam, and over-the-top. But there was never a time when she didn’t listen to every word, and watch every movement, which was precisely Mr. Mosley’s point—to get and keep their attention.
One class he chose a book, and author Sam had never heard of. The book was ‘Whoreson’ and the author was Donald Goines. The boys listened in fascination, leaning forward and more attentive than they had ever been before, and Sam sat like stone, stunned by the unmitigated vulgarity, the bad language and sexual situations, but just as riveted as the boys.
She wasn’t even sure if this was cool, to have a teacher read a book like that to a bunch of teenagers. When the reading for the day was done, it ended at a scene where a particularly obscene word was used. Everyone, even the boys had their chins on the desk when Mr. Mosley was done.
‘That,’ he said, when he looked up from the ratty paperback in his hand, ‘believe it not, is as important a piece of fiction as any other we’ve read this term.’
Sam raised her hand, honestly and earnestly curious about the question she was about to ask.
‘But all the cussing,’ she said. ‘I mean, can that be considered literature?’
‘Was it expressive?’ Mr. Mosley asked.
‘Yes, but …’
‘Did it communicate meaning, tone, place, time, or character?’
‘Yes, but …’
‘Well, Samantha,’ he said, smiling at her. ‘Then it served its purpose. Soon, you’ll learn that in life, as in literature, sometimes only a well-placed cuss-word will do.’
The class erupted in laughter.
“Fuck,” Colt said. He sat forward, almost spilling Sam onto the floor at his feet. “Does this … is this …?”
Sam nodded, and he felt his heart begin to gallop. He examined its canter, trying to decide what it was telling him. Excitement. It was telling him he was excited. He waited, searching for fear, expecting that it would soon arrive, albeit a little slower in pace than the excitement. But it didn’t come.
He looked at Sam, and her eyes were all sparkly and wet. He put a hand on her cheek, and then on her stomach.
“Why you lookin’ like that?” he asked her. “You worried?”
Sam shrugged.
“Scared?”
She hesitated, then nodded.
Colt closed his eyes and gently rubbed the tip of his nose along her jaw, and down her neck. “Don’t be. I got you. You know that, right?”
When she said nothing, he opened his eyes, and looked at her, cupping her face in his hands.
“Sam. You believe me?”
She nodded, but it still seemed noncommittal.
“You didn’t fuck up,” he said. “I did. As soon as I knew I wanted you, as soon as I knew what this was going to be, I should have … that thing with Janelle was just some selfish, greedy, immature shit. Nothing like that will ever happen again … I swear on …” He put his hand back on her stomach.
“Don’t do that,” Sam said shaking her head. “Life is so random, Colton. You can’t make that promise.”
“I’m making that promise,” he said firmly. “Right here, and now. My word is my bond. I’ve got you. I’ve got … him.” He looked down at her abdomen.
That last bit produced a smile, and Sam rolled her eyes. “Oh, here you go. Deciding it’s a boy already.”
Colt shrugged. “Or a beautiful little girl, like her momma. Doesn’t matter to me.”
“I’d kind of like a girl,” Sam said shyly.
“Then we’ll have one,” Colt said. “I promise.”
At that Sam laughed. “How are you going to promise something like that?”
“Because if this one is a boy, we’ll knock out a girl next time.”
Sam’s chin dropped, but Colt tipped it back up. “I’m serious,” he said.
“Colt …”
“I mean it. We should get …”
“No. Don’t say it. We’re not ready for that.”
Colt sank back into his seat, a little deflated. The news was good news. And whether Sam wanted to believe it, or not, he wasn’t messing this up, and he wasn’t letting her go.
Seeming to sense his deflation, she pressed her forehead to his. “I love you so much, but …”
“But what?” he asked, frustrated. “What?”
“Just because you can’t figure out how to be without a person doesn’t mean you’re supposed to be with them.”
“Wow. That’s what you think?”
Sam said nothing.
“Well, I don’t believe that,” he said, shaking his head. “I can’t figure out how to be without you because I’m supposed to be with you. It’s as simple as that. It’s been that way, always.”
Sam sighed, and relaxed against him, but she still didn’t speak.
“You want to … you want to move back in here?” he asked. “Or …?”
“No,” she sighed. “I’m going to rent it for real this time. I want to be with you. It sucked being here on my own. I definitely want us to live together.”
“But not get married.”
She shook her head. “No … let’s not do that right now. I mean, let’s see how … Let’s concentrate on this baby, and on … telling our families, and just being together. I want to try that for a while. Y’know?”
‘… let’s see …’
‘… try that …’
‘… concentrate on …’
She still wasn’t sure of him, and of them. She was still scared. And Colt couldn’t lie. It hurt like hell to know that she couldn’t quite make herself believe that he was here for keeps.
And a baby? He hadn’t even begun to fully process that yet. He’d be damned if he was going anywhere, damned if he ever did anything to jeopardize what he had right here.
“Okay,” he said finally. “We’ll try this for a while.”
Neither of them spoke for a long while after that. They just sat there together—Sam’s head on his shoulder, Colt’s arms around her—in the silence.