Ian

We need to talk? Everything was fine when she left last night. What the hell happened between then and now? Calm down, man. First things first.

Me 4:17 PM: I’m on my way.

Me 4:17 PM: What’s wrong?

I hand off what I’ve been working on to Josh. He’s the foreman of this crew and a solid guy, plus I’ve known him long enough he doesn’t even ask for an explanation. I load up the truck and head for home, trying not to overreact.

I pull in to the garage, throw the truck in park and hurry inside expecting to find Samantha, arms crossed, anger on her face, ready to let me have it. About what, I don’t know yet. To my surprise, the house is empty. No Sam. No drama. Just me and still no clue.

Me 4:32 PM: Hey, I’m home. Where are you?

Me 4:32 PM: And what’s wrong?

The phone buzzes at me almost immediately.

S.R. 4:33 PM: I’m home, can I come over? Now?

Me 4:33 PM: Sure.

Me 4:33 PM: What’s WRONG???

What the fuck? I know I’m typing the words. I can see them clearly in the message history. Why the hell won’t she tell me what is going on?

Now, in the safety of my own home, I start to overreact; my mind is running wild, speculating about this or that being the issue.

Sam knocks gently as she enters through the door from the garage and while I still have no clue what we need to talk about, her face says she is anything but angry.

“There you are. For the love of God, what is going on?” I ask.

She runs into my arms, tears streaming down her face.

“Whoa, there now beautiful—whatever is wrong, we’ll figure it out. Just talk to me.”

I grab a bottle of water for her and pour a whiskey for me and take a seat to try and get to the bottom of this—whatever this is.

* * *

“Ian. Are you ok? You haven’t said anything in a really long time. I know you must be upset with me, but I promise one hundred percent this was NOT the plan.”

Before Sam’s words can bring my focus back to the present, I flash back to Gail’s pregnancy with Will. It was probably the only time in our marriage I was truly happy. I could dismiss her shitty demeanor as discomfort from the pregnancy, and I even thought our little bundle of joy might be the answer to all the problems she and I had been struggling through for years. Yeah right. I never minded midnight feedings, or the two am diaper changes that followed. Getting back up at five to go work all day was no problem either. I had a family to take care of and that little face looking up at me was all the motivation a man could need to get his ass in gear.

“What? Yes. No. I mean—I’m OK. I don’t know what to say, but I’m OK. More important, how are you, darlin’? How far along are you? Are you taking prenatal vitamins yet? What Dr. are you seeing?” I ask. “I’ve got a thousand questions, but don’t know where to start.”

“You aren’t angry with me?” Sam asks.

“Angry? How the hell could I be angry about something so wonderful?’ I know this is not the time to laugh, but the thought has me almost in stitches. Being angry in this moment, for something I had an equal part in—that’s petty enough to put me right down at Gail’s level. I think not.

“Samantha, I don’t. I mean. I know we haven’t really said it before. And I don’t want this situation to cheapen the sentiment behind the words. But. Well, I love you. Shit. I am in love with you. And. I mean, I don’t know what you’re planning, or if you even have a plan yet. But I’m here. I will be here. For you. With you. Beside you, if you’ll let me.”

“Oh, Ian. I love you, too. I am in love with you, too. Thank you. Thank you for being so understanding. For … being you. I don’t have any plan yet. I don’t know what I’m going to do, about school, or after,” she says, her eyes welling up again.

“OK. Alright. We’ll just take this one step at a time, OK?” I ask while I dig through the contact list on my phone. “I’m with you now. We’ve got this.” I find the name I was searching for and tap out a quick message before turning my attention back to Sam. “How are you feeling right now? Do you need to lie down? Are you hungry? Are you having any cravings yet?” I’ve had all of a couple hours to process this information, and I’m already thinking about craving runs to the grocery for a pint of Ben & Jerry’s, or McDonald’s for a fresh order of french-fries and a strawberry shake just to put a smile on her face. I look forward to those small gestures to remind her that she is the highest priority and whatever, whenever, she needs something, I’ve got it.

“The nausea is gone for now, but I haven’t eaten today. I’ve been in bed all afternoon worrying about how I would tell you and how you would react.”

“Well, love… That’s just silly. Let’s get you fed.”

Thank God for dark tinted windows. I think to myself as Rick waves at my truck as I’m backing out of my driveway and he’s pulling into his next door.

“Shit that could’ve been awkward. I have no idea what I’m going to say to them,” Sam says. “I mean, how do you tell your parents their little girl is about to be a mother?”

“If you never said anything, do you think they’d find out? Kidding. Only kidding,” I laugh. I feel my phone buzzing in my back pocket while we drive to dinner and am anxious to see if it’s the response I’ve been waiting for. With a casual check of the message while we are seated I share the information with Sam.

“Samantha, I took a small liberty before and contacted an old friend, he’s a doctor. I didn’t give him any personal details, I promise you, I only told him I have a friend who’s just found out she’s pregnant. Anyway, he said we can come by his office and he will run some tests and make sure you and the baby are healthy. He can even recommend an OB-GYN in the area, if … I mean, if you were to decide to stay around here that is. Would you be OK with that? I don’t mean to overstep, but I want to know the woman I love, carrying my unborn child no less, is healthy and happy, and has everything she could possibly need or want.”

“OK? Yes, I think I’d be OK with that,” she says sarcastically. “I had considered going to my pediatrician, can you even imagine?”

“Excellent. I’ll text him back and get an appointment set up for tomorrow. Now, about your parents?”