by Robin Huber
“I want you to come home, Luc. Please. I was wrecked after Joe died, but without you…I don’t know what to do. You and the baby are my entire world, my whole future. I’m lost with you.”
I nod, but can’t say anything over the emotion I’m trying to contain.
“I promise I’ll never lash out at you like that again. I know you were only trying to help.”
I shake my head and say quietly, “I shouldn’t have underestimated how hard the loss was for you. I’m sorry. And I’m sorry that I left.” I press my lips together and shrug. “After being on my own, that flight-or-fight mode is really hard to overcome.”
He holds me tight and says, “I just want you to come home, Lucy. Please…I need you.”
“Okay.”
He gives me an uncertain smile. “Okay?”
“Yeah.” I smile softly. “I need you too, Sam.”
He exhales a relieved breath and reaches for my face. “I missed you so much,” he says, looking into my vulnerable eyes. Then he kisses me softly and rights all the wrongs in the world. He looks down at my round stomach and drops his hands to either side of it. “I missed my girls.”
“We missed you too.”
“How is she?”
“She’s good.” I laugh and wipe a stray tear from my eye.
“She’s gotten bigger.”
“It’s only been two weeks.”
“I know, but I can tell.”
I scrunch up my face and laugh. “Are you trying to say that I look bigger?”
He shakes his head and gives me a sexy smile. “No. You look…” He pulls his hand to his mouth and rubs it over his chin. “Sexy as hell.”
“Sam,” I say, glancing around at the people around us.
“Seriously.” He holds my hand up and drops his eyes over me. “You’re so beautiful,” he says softly, showing me a glimpse of his dimples.
I press my hands to his chest and whisper, “You’re not so bad yourself.”
He grins, putting his dimples on full display for everyone to see, and I could swear I hear a few hearts dropping. He reaches for my hand, holds it against his chest, and says, “Come dance with me.”
“Oh, I don’t think there’s dancing here, Sam,” I say, glancing around as he pulls me over to a dimly lit area of the room, wondering where Sebastian and Paul disappeared to.
“Says who?” He pulls me close and wraps his arm around my back. “I like this song.” He begins to rock me back and forth to the slow rhythm of Dua Lipa’s “Homesick,” and the lyrics settle over me like a warm blanket when Sam whispers them in my ear. “You give me a reason, something to believe in, I know, I know, I know…You give me a meaning, something I can breathe in, I know, I know, I know.”
I look up at him, and he’s the only other person in the room.
“Do you know how much I love you?” he asks.
“As much as I love you.”
“It’s not always going to be easy, Lamb. I won’t promise that. But I can promise it will be easier together. You and the baby are the most important thing to me. Even when I’m feeling sorry for myself and acting like a jerk. Okay?”
I inhale a shaky breath. “Okay.”
“The painting, your painting…why didn’t you tell me about it?”
“I didn’t know Sebastian volunteered it for the show tonight.”
He nods softly and asks again, “Why didn’t you tell me about it?”
“I don’t know.”
“Lucy, I want all of you. The good parts and the bad.”
“I know.”
“Tonight I listened to you tell a bunch of strangers about a storm you were weathering that I didn’t even know about. Was I the storm?”
“No, it wasn’t you. I mean, it was, but it wasn’t you. It was everything. It was you getting hurt, it was Tristan and Joe, it was the baby, even though I didn’t know about her yet. I was just caught up in it all and Sebastian happened to be there. I guess you could say he was my life raft that day.”
“Well, I’m happy he was there for you.” He rocks me slowly to the music. “But I wish you’d shown me the painting.” He stops dancing and looks at me. “It’s really amazing.”
“Thank you.”
“You better not let anyone buy it.”
I laugh softly. “I won’t.”
“Lucy, I love you. Whether you’re mad or happy or scared or sad. I know it’s not always going to be perfect between us, and we’re probably going to have to weather a lot of storms over the years. But I want to be your life raft. And want you to be mine.”
I look at his handsome face and admit, “Sometimes it’s hard for me to tell you when I’m feeling scared or insecure, especially about us. You’ve been dealing with so much lately. But I promise I’ll be up front with you from now on. I won’t ask for your heart without giving you mine in return, completely and honestly.”
He pulls me close again. “That’s all I want.”
“What is this, a dance party?” Bas asks, making his way over to us as the music changes to another Dua Lipa track. He snaps his fingers to the up-tempo beat of “Be the One” and slowly rocks his shoulders from side to side as he closes the space between us. “Hey, Sam.” He grins. “When did you get here?”
I look at Sam, then I look at Bas. “Wait. Did you know he was coming?”
He sways from side to side and turns his palms up. “Guilty.”
My mouth pops open and I give him wide eyes. “You let me mope for the last two days!” I smack his arm and he laughs.
“Well, I couldn’t ruin the surprise.”
“You were moping?” Sam asks, smiling softly.
“Of course I was. I hated the idea of being here without you.”
He wraps his arms around me and pulls me close. “I wasn’t sure, but I didn’t want to miss something this important to you.”
I look up at his sincere eyes and kiss him softly. “Thank you for surprising me.” I look over at Sebastian. “Is that why you were such a freak on the way over?”
“Well, he was supposed to surprise you before the show, but his flight was delayed.”
I shake my head and laugh. “Did you know?” I ask Paul.
“Nope. This was one of the many Lucy secrets I wasn’t privy to.” He narrows his eyes at Sebastian playfully.
Sebastian waves him off and keeps swaying to the music. “He’s still mad that I didn’t tell him about you and Sam when you first got back together.”
“Or that you were pregnant,” Paul says to me.
I wrap my arm around Bas’s waist and press my cheek to his shoulder. “That’s because he’s the best friend anyone could ask for.” I give Paul an apologetic look.
Sebastian smiles and takes my hands, and swings my arms back and forth as he sings, “Oh, baby, come on, let me get to know you, just another chance so that I can show that I won’t let you down, oh no…No, I won’t let you down, oh no.”
I laugh and sway back and forth with him to the music, until he gives my hand to Sam, and he takes Paul’s. I smile at them dancing between paintings and people who are watching and smiling too. Sam lifts my hand and I spin under his arm, but I quickly yank it down when I see an unfamiliar shadow of ink inside his sleeve.
“Did you get a new tattoo?” I ask, pushing his jacket up his arm.
He unbuttons his sleeve and shows me the tattoo on his forearm, and I gasp when I see my face taking up a rather large section of his skin.
My mouth falls open, but all I can say is, “Sam.”
He smiles softly. “Do you like it?”
I bob my head and put my hand over my mouth. “I can’t believe you had my face tattooed on your arm,” I say, blinking back tears.
He looks at me and says, “I didn’t want to go another day without seeing it.”
I release a quiet breath and say softly, “You don’t have to.”
He wraps his arms around me, and I hug him tightly.
“Hey, what do you say we stay in the city for
a couple of days?” he asks, putting a wide smile on my face.
“Really?”
“Yeah. You can show me around like you wanted to. We can see the sights.”
I press my lips together over an amused smile. “You want to go sightseeing?”
“I mean, it might be cool to see the city from the top of the Empire State Building.”
I nod softly. “I’d love to do that with you, Sam.”
“And maybe you could show me that art museum you like so much.”
“The Met?”
“Yeah.”
My excitement quickly wanes when I think about what Paul said. The paparazzi will be worse here. “Do you think it’s a good idea? I mean, with how the media’s been lately.”
He holds his head back and grins. “You worried about me?”
“Always.”
He shrugs. “People can say whatever they want about the Crawford fight. They’re going to do it anyway, whether I’m here or in Atlanta. But this might be our last chance to get away for a while.”
I inhale a slow breath and gaze up at him, relishing the moment and the promise of the next couple of days alone in the city with Sam. “Okay.”
Chapter 20
Lucy
I love the Met for five reasons. One: it’s old. Nearly 150 years old. Two: it’s massive. You can spend an entire day in it and not see it all. Three: it sits on the edge of Central Park. Sometimes when you’re inside, you forget that you’re in the city, because all you see from the windows is green. Four: the art. From Georgia O’Keeffe to Claude Monet, the Met is home to some of the most extraordinary art in the entire world. Five: afternoon tea.
The midafternoon sunlight filters into the café through the floor-to-ceiling windows that overlook Central Park, reflecting off our teacups. I dunk my peppermint tea bag in the hot water a few times while it steeps and Sam does the same. He holds his teacup between his strong hands and I giggle softly. “You’re so cute.”
He studies the sandwiches and scones on the three-tiered silver plate stand and grabs one of the egg salad sandwich wedges. “How am I supposed to fill up on these?” he asks, popping the whole thing in his mouth.
I grab one of the cucumber wedges. “You’re not. It’s afternoon tea. It’s just a snack.”
He picks up a lemon raspberry tart and flicks the raspberry off onto his plate. “Is this supposed to be dessert?”
“Yes.” I laugh.
He leans across the table and says, “Tonight, we’re going somewhere good.” He winks and leans back in his chair.
“Where?” I ask curiously.
“It’s a surprise.”
I purse my lips over a smile. “Okay. But first, I want to show you one more painting.”
He grabs another sandwich wedge. “Okay.”
We finish our afternoon tea and meander through the sprawling galleries for another hour, until we reach Woman with a Parrot. I stare at the painting, recalling the last time I was here with Sebastian and Paul, laughing quietly to myself at Sebastian’s interpretation.
“You wanted to show me a naked woman?” Sam asks, giving me a sideways glance.
“No. Well, yes. But not because she’s naked. Because I love this painting. I love how uncontrived it is. It was very provocative for its time.”
“Because she’s naked?”
“Because of her ungainly pose and disheveled hair,” I say, quoting an article I read about its early reviews. I shrug. “It was the eighteen hundreds. But what I really love are the shadows and light. So realistic.”
He crosses his arms over his chest and studies the painting. “Like on her hair.” He points and drops his head to the side. “The way the light reflects off her curls.”
“Yeah.” I smile up at him. “Exactly like that.”
“I see why you like it.” He wraps his hand around mine and pulls me closer to him. “Thanks for showing it to me.”
“You’re welcome,” I say, yawning.
He gives me a small smile. “You ready for a nap?”
“Yep.”
* * *
I stand in front of the bathroom mirror in our suite with my arms above my head, trying to pin my hair up in an intentionally messy yet somewhat dressy updo, which is no easy task.
Sam walks up behind me in a fitted black suit with a cream button-down shirt that’s open at the collar, and it takes everything in me not to turn around. But I’ve almost got it.
“Can I help?” he asks, taking the bobby pin out of my hand and assessing the situation.
“Sure.” I drop my tired arms and lean on the marble counter while he pushes the pin in place. I hand him another one. “Can you put one on the other side too?”
He studies the back of my head for a few seconds and then, with a very serious face, slowly pushes the bobby pin in. “Okay…” He holds his hands out a few inches from my head and assesses his work. “Done.”
“Yeah?” I tilt my head from side to side to make sure it feels secure, then I grab my mirror off the counter and turn around to inspect his work. “It looks good,” I say, smiling at him. “Thank you.” When I lower the mirror, he’s staring at me.
He drops his eyes over my tummy-hugging short-sleeve scoop-neck dress, which I purchased today out of necessity—my suitcase ran dry a few days ago. It’s a dusty pale blue color, accented with a delicate floral design that cascades over one shoulder all the way down to the opposite corner where the hem hits my knees. I paired it with strappy silver high heels that wrap around my ankles.
Sam puts his hands on the silky material over my stomach, then he looks at me and says, “You are stunning pregnant. Have I told you that?”
I shake my head and gaze up at him.
He pulls his eyebrows together and says, “I used to imagine us having a family one day, and I’d have these visions of you being pregnant, but they didn’t compare to this.” He rubs his hand over my stomach, and I feel a familiar heat begin to smolder beneath my skin.
“Maybe we should skip dinner tonight,” I say, biting my smiling lip.
He wraps his arms around me and pushes me back against the counter, enveloping me in his warm, clean scent as he presses his full lips to mine. He kisses me softly and says, “As tempting as that is, we’re not skipping dinner.” He laughs softly and releases me. “Come on.” He laces his fingers with mine and pulls me behind him.
“That wasn’t nice,” I say, pouting at him as he leads me out of our suite.
“You should have fed me a real lunch.”
I stop in front of the foyer mirror and straighten the dress over my bump, turning from side to side.
Sam watches me with an amused smirk on his face and his dimples go straight to my heart…and other parts of my body I’m trying to ignore. He drops his head and puts his hands in his pockets, then he looks up at me with a grin that sends my heart sprinting. “You ready now?”
My eyes follow his handsome face down to his tailored black suit and shiny tobacco-colored dress shoes, and I begin to second-guess my outfit. “Are you sure this dress is okay?”
“It’s perfect for where we’re going.”
“And where is that again?”
He laughs and takes my hand, then pulls me out of the suite and down the hall to the elevator, where Grady is waiting for us.
“You two look great,” Grady says when we reach him.
“Thanks, so do you.” I wink at him.
He tugs on his suit jacket. “What, this old thing?” he says in his deep voice before he presses the button for the elevator.
“I appreciate you sticking around for the last couple of days,” Sam says to him.
“Anything you need, champ.”
When the elevator doors slide open, Grady ushers us inside. He presses the button for the first floor and we drop forty-eight floors to the lavish lobby below.
Sam holds my hand as we walk through the freezing lobby, ignoring the subtle glances and whispers that follow us wherever we go. Once we’re outsid
e, the warm summer air erases the goose bumps from my arms, and we climb into the back of a waiting SUV, disappearing behind the tinted windows.
I look up at the glittering skyscrapers that tower over the street we’re driving down, admiring the way the lights shine on the city below like a moon, even on a cloudy night. Each time we come to a stop, I listen to the sounds outside—people talking, some shouting, music playing, horns honking.
“I love New York,” I muse.
Sam grabs my hand and pulls it into his lap. “I like it a lot more now,” he says, smiling at me.
We come to a stop in front of Central Park, which is lit by the orange glow of the streetlamps that line its paths. The driver gets out and I give Sam a curious look. “Are we here?”
“Yeah.” He opens the door and reaches for my hand. “Come on.”
I take his hands and step down onto the pavement, glancing up at him curiously as he leads me around the SUV. When I see a waiting horse-drawn carriage, I pull my hand to my mouth and laugh nervously. “Is that for us?”
“What better way to look like a tourist than with a carriage ride through Central Park?” He laughs and pulls me over to it. He climbs up after me and we sit down.
Grady takes the seat next to the driver and the horse begins to slowly trot in front of us, carrying us into the dimly lit park.
Soon, the faint sounds of the city are drowned out by the click-clacking of the horse’s feet against the pavement, and a warm breeze blows through the trees above us, rustling the leaves that glow in the warm, ambient light of the streetlamps, contrasting with the twinkling skyscrapers that tower in the distance. I hold Sam’s hand and snuggle up next to him. “I’ve actually never seen the park at night. It’s really pretty.”
After a few quiet seconds, the horse passes gas, and we both start laughing.
“Super romantic, right?” Sam says, shaking his head.
“So romantic.”
He drops his head and looks over at me with a crooked smile. “Sorry.”
I put my chin on his shoulder and kiss him softly. “This was actually a really great surprise.”
“This isn’t the surprise.”
“What?”