by Marie Force
“On the way home from the Feds game.”
“Okay, thanks,” Sam said, glad to hear Nick had been able to arrange the last-minute outing for himself and Scotty. She walked to the house three doors down from hers, dashed up the ramp and gave a quick knock on the door before going in. “Anyone home?”
“Back here, Sam,” her stepmother, Celia, said.
Celia and Skip were at the kitchen table eating dinner while watching the news. Sam kissed them both and helped herself to a bottle of water from the fridge, downing half of it in one big gulp.
“Tough day at the office, dear?” Skip asked.
“Yeah.” Sam took a seat at the table. “I’m totally dehydrated, sweaty and frustrated.”
“We saw the warning the department issued asking people to stay inside,” Celia said as she fed Skip a bite of chicken. “It’s such a shame that people need to be afraid like this.”
“Believe me, I know. It’s infuriating to all of us, but until we get these bastards, we have to take precautions.”
“Any leads?” Skip asked.
Sam told them about Tamara Jackson’s connection to Trace Simmons, the search of Simmons’s home and finding the car at AU.
“It’s a start,” Skip said.
“It’s slow going.”
“Always is with this kind of thing. You have to dot the Is and cross the Ts one step at a time.”
“I hate that. I want to figure it out and lock them up right now.”
“My poor, impatient baby girl,” he said with an indulgent smile.
“Yeah, yeah, that’s me. Couple of other developments today,” she said, telling them about Stahl and the Alford plea as well as the meeting with Forrester.
“Forrester’s office didn’t give any indications?” Skip asked.
Sam shook her head, took a roll from the basket on the table and tore off a bite. “Just be there at two tomorrow.”
“I’m not worried about an indictment, and you shouldn’t be either,” Skip said.
“That’s good to know, but until I hear him say the words, I’m sweating it.”
“Try not to lose any sleep over it.” Celia patted Sam’s hand. “You’ll know one way or the other tomorrow.”
“Imagine those headlines in addition to all the others,” Sam said with a wry smile.
“What’re you thinking about Stahl?”
“That I’m not settling for anything less than an admission of guilt, even if that means I have to live through a trial to get it.”
“Good,” Skip said, “because I’ll let you accept that plea over my cold, dead body.”
“I speak for Celia and the rest of your family when I say we don’t want to talk about your cold, dead body.”
“What she said.” Celia used her thumb to point to Sam.
“That son of a bitch needs to own up to what he did, not slink off to prison without having to admit it.”
“Couldn’t agree more, Skippy. Glad we’re on the same page, as usual. I’d better get home and see what my boys are up to.”
“Scotty was here earlier,” Celia said. “He’s in a full-on depression over the start of school.”
“I used to feel the exact same way,” Sam said. “Remember?”
“All too well,” Skip said, half his face lifting into a smile. “You went into a funk every year around this time that lasted for weeks. Especially before the dyslexia was diagnosed.”
“School was the seventh circle of hell for me.”
“And somehow you ended up with a high school diploma, a college degree and a graduate degree,” Skip said, the expressive side of his face beaming with pride. “I have no doubt that our Scotty will find his stride and go all the way. He’s one of the smartest, sharpest kids I’ve ever known. He actually reminds me a lot of his mom at that age.”
Sam smiled and bent to kiss his forehead. “That’s nice to hear. I often think he’s just like Nick.”
“He’s a lot like you too,” Celia said. “Nurture is every bit as important as nature.”
“You guys are good for my morale.”
“We love you,” Celia said bluntly.
“Love you too.” Sam kissed her stepmother’s cheek as she left the kitchen to head home, thankful for the family that surrounded her in good times and in bad. She’d been back in touch with her mother recently after a twenty-year estrangement that had stemmed from her parents’ contentious divorce. Sam and her sisters had helped to see their mother through the aftermath of a lumpectomy for Stage 1 breast cancer earlier in the summer. Fortunately, the doctors had gotten it all and had recommended no further treatment. Brenda had spent a day with them at the beach, and it had gone well. Sam’s relationship with her was slowly but surely improving.
Brenda was now settled in a townhouse in Arlington, Virginia, so she could be close to her three daughters and her grandchildren. It was still somewhat odd, Sam thought as she walked to her own house, to be back in touch with her mother after all this time, but it was nice to put that negativity in the past where it belonged. One thing she had learned was that no one knew what went on inside a marriage except for the two people in it, and that included her parents.
Speaking of marriage, Sam was thrilled to see the street lined with black SUVs, which meant her husband and son had gotten home while she was at her dad’s. She went up the ramp to their house, and Eric opened the door to admit her.
“Thank you,” she said to the agent. In the kitchen, she found Nick leaning against the counter, drinking a beer. His face lit up with pleasure at the sight of her.
“This is a nice surprise,” he said, reaching for her. “I didn’t expect to see you until much later.”
Sam snuggled into his embrace and brought him up-to-date on the latest with the case. “We’ve done all we could today. Now we wait for the lab and to see if the shooters will strike again.”
“I heard about the warning to citizens. Pretty hard-core.”
“Had to be done.”
“You like the gangbanger for the shootings?”
“I don’t know. It doesn’t add up. If he was intent on getting Tamara back, killing her brother would put a damper on the romance. Plus, there’s nothing to indicate he has above-average skills with a gun.”
“True.” His hand made a soothing circle on her back.
“What’ve you done with the boy child?”
“I sent him to take a shower and get his backpack ready for tomorrow.”
“How’d he take that directive?”
“As you might imagine.”
Sam laughed.
“I used to love the first day of school,” Nick said.
“You were one of the dorks who ruined the curve for the rest of us, weren’t you?”
“Maybe.”
“How many times did you make the honor roll?”
“May I decline to answer out of fear of being mocked for the rest of my life?”
She looked up at him. “How. Many. Times?”
“All the times?” he said with a weak smile.
“Oh my God! How did I not know this before I said, ‘I do’?”
“You knew I got an academic scholarship to Harvard. How do you think that happened?”
“I’ve honestly never thought about how, but now that I know, this may be grounds for an annulment.”
“Nice try, babe,” he said with a laugh. “As if I’d ever let you go for any reason, and besides, I think you can only get an annulment before the marriage is consummated. Since we’ve consummated ours about six thousand times, I’d say you’re screwed in more ways than one.”
Sam laughed. “You think you’re so smart.”
“I know I’m smart, and now you know it too.” Looking down at her, he said, “By the way, that’s twice you’ve mentioned leaving me in one twenty-four-hour p
eriod. Should I be worried?”
“Not even kinda.” She closed her eyes, laid her head on his chest and let out a deep breath, relieved to be back in his arms after a hellish day. He always made her feel better, even when boasting about his impressive academic record. “If we ever have biological kids, do you think they’ll get my school brains or yours?”
Only because she was pressed so tightly against him did she feel his entire body go rigid over the fraught subject of babies.
“I don’t know,” he said. “Hopefully, we’ll get the chance to find out.”
“What if we have a kid who’s just like me? A classic underachiever in school. Wouldn’t that make you crazy?”
“Not at all. I’d be so in love with any kid of ours that I’d be more afraid of spoiling him or her rotten than what kind of grades they get.”
As usual, he said the perfect thing. “That’s good to know.”
“Anything you want to tell me, babe?”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
SAM’S INCLINATION WAS to keep it from him until she knew for sure, but wrapped up in his arms, she couldn’t do that to him. “I’ve been feeling weird lately. I asked Shelby to get me a test, and she said she’d leave it under the sink in our bathroom.”
With his hands now on her shoulders, he held her back from him so he could see her face. “For real?”
“I don’t know.” Her throat closed around a lump of emotion that made her crazy for being so emotional over this issue, even after all this time.
“Let’s go take the test.”
“Right now?”
“This very minute.”
“Nick… I have other stuff I need to talk to you about.”
“We’ll get to that.” He took her hand and gave a gentle tug. “This first.” Without much participation from her, he got them both upstairs and into the bathroom in the master suite with minimal fuss. Bending to look under the sink, he retrieved three different pregnancy tests and put them on the counter.
Shelby was nothing if not thorough.
While Sam looked on, feeling a surreal detachment to the scene unfolding before her, he took the three wand thingies out of the boxes and packaging.
“You want me to go in with you?”
The question snapped her out of the detached state to shake her head. “That’s where I draw the line.”
“Get in there and start peeing.” He nudged her toward the separate room that housed the toilet. “Hand them out to me when you’re done.”
“That’s kinda gross.”
“Just do it, Samantha.”
She took the sticks from him and went into the adjoining room, all thumbs as she unbuttoned her shorts. Was this really happening? Could it be, after all this time… Don’t get ahead of yourself. One step at a time. She peed on the first stick.
“Here’s one.”
Keeping to the minimal fuss routine, he reached into the room and took it from her. She did the other two and handed them out to him. Her hands trembled as she righted her clothes and joined him in the bigger part of their master bathroom where he had lined up the tests on the counter.
“How long does it take?” he asked.
“A few minutes.” She had far too much experience with this ritual for someone who’d never had a baby.
He wrapped his arms around her and brought her head to rest on his chest. “Hold on to me, Samantha. Either way, we’ve got this. A plus or a minus won’t change anything that really matters.”
She clung to him and his sweet words and told herself he was right. A baby would only make an already-beautiful life more so. Not having a baby wouldn’t take anything away from what they already had.
Once again, she felt the change in him because they were holding each other so tightly. When all the air seemed to leave his body in one long exhale, she had her answer and blinked back tears of disappointment. By now, she ought to be used to it.
“We’ll keep trying,” he said gruffly. “We’ll try and we’ll try until it happens. Think about all the fun we’ll have trying.”
Tears ran unchecked down her face, wetting his shirt, but he never let her go. He held on until she got it all out, running his hand over her hair and her back, whispering more sweet words of love and giving her everything she needed to get through this latest setback.
“If it’s meant to be,” he said, “it’ll happen. And if not, we’ll be just fine. I promise. We have everything we need and then some. We have more than I could’ve ever dreamed of.”
“I’m sorry,” she said between sobs. “I shouldn’t have told you. I hate to disappoint you.”
“Samantha, of course you should’ve told me. I’d never want you to be disappointed alone. This is our project. We’re in it together no matter what. Don’t keep something like this from me in a misguided attempt to protect me.”
“I don’t ever want you to be disappointed because of me.”
“Sam, honey, look at me.”
She lifted her face from his chest and looked up at him gazing down at her with his heart in his gorgeous hazel eyes.
“There is nothing you could do that would disappoint me except stop loving me.”
“That’s not going to happen.”
He used his thumbs to wipe away her tears. “Then we’re all set.” Hugging her again, he made everything better with the way he loved her. “How about we have dinner with our son, who has requested pizza for the last night of summer vacation, and then spend some time in the loft? I want to be alone with my wife tonight.”
“That sounds good.”
“You said we have other stuff to talk about?”
That stuff seemed unimportant after the pregnancy news—or lack thereof. She nodded. “We’ll talk about that later. I just need a minute to get myself together.”
“Take all the time you need. I’ll order the pizza.” He discreetly scooped up the pregnancy tests and took them with him, presumably to dispose of them in a way that wouldn’t add to the headlines swirling about them. “And Samantha,” he said, looking back at her from the doorway, “never forget how much I love you.”
“I never could.”
He gifted her with a smile that lit up his entire face. “Good.”
Sam bent over the sink and splashed her face with cold water, hoping to get rid of the puffiness so Scotty wouldn’t see that she’d been crying. She felt like such a fool for thinking this time might be different. Once again, her body had betrayed her by sending out a false alarm. She’d be wiser next time, less likely to jump to conclusions. If she ever did get pregnant, she’d be one of those women who found out they were having a baby when they went into labor.
That thought made her laugh because she’d always wondered how anyone could not know they were pregnant until the baby arrived.
Taking a cold wet washcloth with her, she stretched out on the bed and applied the compress to her eyes, which were still leaking with tears despite her fierce desire to move on from this latest in a long string of disappointments related to her fertility.
Perhaps it might be time to try something more, she thought, groaning at the idea of going through fertility treatment again. The last time she’d done that, while still married to Peter, she’d nearly come undone from the stress, the hormones and the sheer agony of one disappointment after another.
But it might be different with Nick by her side to weather the storm along with her. That was something to think about after this latest crisis in their lives played out one way or the other. If Nick was forced to become president, the last thing they’d need was fertility treatments on top of that madness.
After thirty minutes, she got up to go into the bathroom to check the damage to her face, which was still red but not as puffy as it had been. She applied some concealer and brushed her hair, determined to present a cheerful front for her son, who was al
ready glum enough about the start of school. He didn’t need a depressed mother too.
When she felt ready, she went downstairs to join them in the kitchen where a pizza box was open on the counter. Normally, she avoided pizza and the hellacious calories that went with it, but tonight, she helped herself to two slices of the meat lovers and took her usual seat at the table.
Nick glanced her way, his brows raised in question.
Sam nodded to let him know she was okay. “How was the game, buddy?” she asked Scotty.
“It was great. Big win by the Feds. They need everything they can get between now and the end of the month if they want to make the playoffs.”
“If they keep playing the way they did today,” Nick said, “they’ll make the playoffs with room to spare.”
“If they do, can we go to another game?”
“I don’t see why not.”
“Maybe you’ll be president by then,” Scotty said with a smirk.
“Shut your filthy mouth,” Sam said around a mouthful of pizza.
Scotty cracked up laughing. “At some point, we need to talk about what we’re going to do if it actually happens.”
“Not yet,” Nick said. “We’re still operating from a place of full denial.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Scotty said. “This whole town is about to go mad with the hearings starting tomorrow, and you’re in denial.”
“Yep, and that’s where I plan to stay.”
“Don’t you want to be president?” Scotty asked.
“Um, well, no, not really.”
Scotty’s mouth fell open with surprise—and pizza. “Seriously?”
“Seriously. Being VP is more than enough for me.”
“Does the DNC know you feel that way?” he asked.
“You’re far too smart for your own good, mister,” Nick said, his eyes dancing with amusement and affection.
Sam could tell he was pleased by the smart questions from their son, who paid attention to the details when it came to their careers.
“And no, the DNC doesn’t know that.”