Shameless (38 page)

Sam wrapped him tighter in her embrace and kissed the top of his head over and over, not able to get enough of him. Finally, they came apart and lay back on the bed, spoon-like.

John realized his hand rested on the fullest part of her belly. Slowly, he splayed his fingers, pressing lightly on the solid mass.

He’d worried he wouldn’t be able to get his mind off her pregnancy while they made love. He thought he’d be preoccupied by that, feel strange about it. But instead, it had aroused him. The thought he’d created this little life inside her, the life that had swollen her belly and pressed against him every time their bodies came together… It was a powerful feeling.

“What’s it like to be pregnant?” he whispered into her hair.

“Like nothing you could ever imagine,” she said, squeezing his hand. “It’s the most amazing thing knowing I have this little creature, this little human being inside me. That one day soon, I’ll actually be able to hold it in my arms, to kiss it and cuddle with it and love it.” She craned her neck and peered into his eyes. “And I have you to thank.” Lifting her head, she kissed him then snuggled back into his embrace.

John was a bundle of conflicting emotion. In some ways, he was proud to be responsible for her happiness, for her pregnancy. But on the other end of the spectrum, his heart felt stomped on. “I’ll actually be able to hold it in my arms, to kiss it and cuddle with it and love it,” she’d said.

And love it
.

He closed his eyes. What he wouldn’t give to have that freedom, that simple joy of loving a child. His child. If he was a religious man, he’d either curse God right now or pray like mad to Him. He wished he could complain like so many do that life is unfair. But he knew better. Life was what you made of it. He’d made his bed twenty years ago, and now, like it or not, he still had to lie in it.

Just then, the baby kicked hard against his palm, and he pulled his hand back in surprise. “Holy—” He replaced his hand. “What do you have in there, a soccer player?”

Sam giggled. “Imagine that kick against your bladder.”

He shuddered. “No thanks.” He rubbed her belly, wishing the baby would move again.

Sam moved his hand to her left side, pressing his fingers against what used to be her waist. He felt a hard little mound. “I think that’s the butt,” she said.

He pressed again. “You’re kidding. You can tell?” The hard mound disappeared then there was a rolling sensation beneath his palm. “Oh, my God. Is it turning?”

“Uh, huh. Isn’t that the weirdest thing?”

After some more movements that had John convinced this kid would be the next Gabby Douglas or David Beckham, the baby finally stilled.

John wrapped her into his arms, knowing this closeness would end. It had to. And how would he possibly react when it did?

John left to pick up Brian, leaving Sam to shower and dress. The boy wasn’t stupid and would most likely put two and two together, but they didn’t want to flaunt their recent tryst.

Sam was just finishing up tossing the salad when they returned. She flashed a bright smile at John and one at Brian.

“Brian, it’s so good to see you. If you didn’t eat too much with your mom, I’d love it if you’d join us for a late dinner.”

“Are you kidding?” John ruffled Brian’s hair. “This kid’s always shoving food in his mouth. Eats me out of house and home. Gonna have to get a second job to support my grocery bill. Of course he’ll join us. Right, Bri?”

Brian blushed under all the attention and pulled out of Sam’s embrace. “Yeah. I guess I’m a little hungry.” He glanced at Sam’s tummy. “Wow. You’re huge.” John gave an embarrassed cough and disappeared outside to check the chicken on the grill. Brian’s cheeks and neck reddened, and he stammered, “I’m sorry. I meant—”

Sam grinned and gave her belly a slight shake. “Don’t apologize. You’re right. I am huge. This kid is going to be a monster. A little heavyweight.”

The boy’s skin tone returned to its natural coloring. He grabbed a Dr. Pepper from the fridge and sat on a bar stool. “When’s it due?” He swigged the pop and wiped his mouth on the back of his sleeve.

Sam tore lettuce into bite-size pieces. “In about eight weeks.”

“You excited?”

She glanced across the counter at him and smiled. “Can’t wait.”

He gulped the rest of the drink then set the can on the counter. “I think you’ll be a good mom.”

Sam stopped what she was doing. “Well, thank you, Brian. Why do you say that?”

He shrugged, the blush returning. “I dunno. I just think you will. Mr. E thinks so, too.”

A funny tickle skittered through Sam’s body and lodged in her heart. “He does?”

Brian nodded. “Yeah. He talks about it a lot.”

“Really?” A sweet warmth swept over her.

He shot her a funny look. “So what’s the deal with you two anyway? I mean, I know Mr. E is the father, I mean that he helped you get, um—” He cleared his throat, his face reddening. “But you guys act like you’re together, you know, like a couple, but he keeps sayin’ that you’re not.”

She thought how to answer this. “Well, he’s right. We’re not really a couple.”

“But you like him.”

She sighed, smiling. “Yeah.”

“And he likes you. I mean he’s
always
talking about you. No offense, but I get kinda tired of it sometimes.”

Her smile broadened. “No offense taken.”

“If you guys are so hot for each other, I don’t get what the deal is.”

Sam sighed. “It’s a long and complicated story, Brian. John and I both have our reasons for doing things this way. It just—” her voice caught, “—wouldn’t work between us.”

He looked at her like she was an idiot. “I know what Mr. E’s problem is. He’s scared to have kids.”

Her eyebrows rose, and she wondered how much John had shared with him.

Brian continued, “I mean, his dad sounds like he was a major asshole. So maybe Mr. E thinks he wouldn’t be a good father either. You know, not having a good role model or nothin’.” He chugged the rest of his Dr. Pepper and crushed the can in his fist, something John always did.

She reached her hand across the counter toward him, splaying her fingers against the tile. After a moment, she pulled her hand back and resumed making the salad.

The chicken was moist and flavorful, the marinated vegetables grilled to perfection, but they could have been eating macaroni and cheese out of a box and John didn’t think he’d have recognized the difference.

He watched the two other people at his table. Sam and Brian had been discussing the care of houseplants for some minutes now. She had explained to Brian about her brown thumb and wanted his advice since he was becoming so knowledgeable in horticulture. John didn’t know if she truly had a brown thumb or if she was merely trying to make Brian feel good about himself. Either way, the boy clearly enjoyed every minute of the conversation.

“So, I should clip off the dead leaves?” Sam asked Brian, spearing a grilled onion with her fork.

Brian shoved a huge bite of chicken into his mouth and nodded. After a few chews, he said, “The dead leaves suck the nutrients from the healthy part of the plant, so if you get rid of ‘em, the plant will do better.”

John pushed at his food. He’d never thought of himself as someone who needed or even wanted domesticity in his life, especially after his failed marriages, but he could get used to this. Sam and Brian in his house, sharing meals with him every day. And Sam sharing his bed every night.

The thoughts were as disturbing as they were appealing, he thought a few minutes later as he brought out dessert of fresh berries and cream. Because they were nothing but pipe dreams. Weren’t they? Brian would likely move back in with his mom soon, and Sam… well, his thoughts shouldn’t travel that path. Should they?

If only his past didn’t stand as a barrier between him and Sam. If only he wasn’t so scared, so
petrified
, to chance a relationship with her, to chance being a real father to the child she carried. Sam hadn’t given him any indication she’d changed her mind about wanting him in their life. He knew she cared about him, but she’d never hinted at anything more. Had she? She was still just as dead set against getting married — especially to someone with his track record — as he was against being a father. Wasn’t she? Wasn’t
he
?

Christ
. His emotions were as jumbled as a boxed jigsaw puzzle.

Looking at her now, laughing and animated as she spoke with Brian, her hand rubbing her belly that carried the child he helped create, John wanted to shout from the rooftops that he loved her, that she was carrying his child.
His
child. But confessing his feelings to her would topple the delicate balance of their relationship. Wouldn’t it?

“John?” Sam asked.

His mind snapped back to the present and he cleared his throat in embarrassment. “Hmm, what?”

“I said, Brian and I voted you as dishwasher tonight. I’m going to help him with a term paper.” Her amused expression sobered as she stared at him. He thought he recognized his tangled emotions reflected in her eyes. Didn’t he? Or was he just imagining it?

“I notice that neither of us ate much at dinner,” John stated later after Brian retreated to his bedroom to study.

Sam sat at the opposite end of the couch. “Yeah, well, I wasn’t too hungry.”

“I thought you were always hungry these days.”

She looked away and said nothing.

After a few moments of not entirely comfortable silence, he said, “It was nice having dinner together. You, me, Brian. It was kind of like we were—”

“A family,” she interjected in a whisper.

His eyebrows lifted. “You felt that, too?”

She nodded. “Kind of scary, isn’t it?”

He shifted on the cushion and stretched his legs out in front of him, shoving his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. “Yeah.”

Neither spoke for a while. Finally, John said, “We need to talk about this.”

She shook her head. “No.”

“Sam—”

“No. Not right now. This has been a beautiful evening and I don’t want to ruin it by talking about—” She swallowed hard. Twice. “—About us. I’ll start crying. And I don’t really feel like crying right now.”

John stared straight ahead. “Why couldn’t things have been simple between us?” he asked after a time. “Just two normal people meeting each other under normal circumstances, going out on normal dates, developing a normal relationship.”

Sam glanced away and didn’t say anything. What could she say? Her friends had warned her this would happen if she got involved with John. She’d thought she could handle it. She’d thought she was so jaded to love and romance that she had nothing to worry about.

She’d been wrong.

It was pretty clear to her that she was in love with John — she, who wanted to raise this child alone. He was all she thought about besides the baby. He was in her daydreams and night dreams. She’d never felt like this in her life. It had to be love. And she was pretty sure that he reciprocated the feeling — he, who was dead set against children and marriage. Was there any hope of reconciling all these opposing attitudes? He hadn’t indicated he’d changed his mind about having children or becoming involved with her. Had he?