by Mary Calmes
"The fuck you will," he snapped at me. "Just wait, I'm going with you."
"No, Sam, you can't do that. Dylan hates you—you bein' there won't help."
"It'll help."
"No, it really won't."
"Listen," he said, walking over to me, his hand heavy around the back of my neck. "You're mine. I go where you go, and anywhere that you go at three in the goddamn morning I go too."
He had no idea what he was even saying, but it was very cute, and so I wrapped my arms around him, squeezed tight, and told him to button his jeans and find a shirt. I slapped his ass hard when he turned away from me.
He muttered to himself all the way back down the hall.
* * * *
There were hurried introductions made when we arrived at Dylan and Chris's apartment and I called Sam my boyfriend because it was easier than the explanation would have been.
His smile over the title was huge.
"It's only for tonight," I told him.
"Whatever you say," he grinned back.
We all took turns trying to extricate Dylan from the bathroom. I tapped on the bathroom door and tried to talk my best friend and partner out. She wouldn't budge. Her husband was so sweet, I thought Dylan's mother was going to cry, his own mother giving him a look like he was the second coming. The door didn't even crack. Her father tried, then Chris's father tried, and then her sister went with the funny, sarcastic approach. We all laughed, even Sam smiled, but nothing from Dylan but her screams as the contractions ripped through her.
"Can I try?" Sam asked me from where he was leaning next to the china cabinet. Arms crossed, ankles crossed, he looked very calm.
"Sure," Chris invited him with a sweeping motion of his hand. "Come one, come all."
Sam pushed off the wall and moved across the room to the door. He tapped gently and we all watched him, riveted.
"Hey, Dylan—it's me, Sam. You know, Detective Kage. The one you fuckin' hate."
I really needed to work on his swearing.
"Don't you have something you wanna say to me?"
And the reaction was instant. The door slammed open and she came roaring out of the room. "How dare you even speak to him again, you selfish sonofabitch! I hate you for hurting him, I hate you even more for leaving, and I hate you most of all for coming back! You... don't... deserve him! Get the hell out of his life, you poisonous manipulating asshole!"
The room was silent except for Sam, who stepped close and took her chin in his hand and lifted it so he could look down into her eyes.
"Oh ho, the lady's a tiger."
She breathed deeply, staring up at him.
"Feel better?"
She shivered once, and there was water on the floor beneath her.
Sam didn't even flinch.
"My water broke," she said in the tiniest voice I had ever heard.
"Yep," he nodded, the lopsided grin there that I loved. "So let's go to the hospital."
"I can't walk," she said, looking at her husband, then her dad, then me.
"It's okay," he said, and scooped her up in his arms. Like she weighed nothing at all.
There wasn't another man in the room that could have lifted her, even if he had help. He was at the door seconds later, holding her cradled against his chest, her arms wrapped around his neck, her face lying on his shoulder. Even nine months pregnant, she looked tiny and fragile in comparison to the big and strong that he was. The picture of them together would be forever ingrained in my memory.
"J, get a trash bag for Dy to sit on in the car and the bag she packed for the hospital. C'mon, Chris, let's do this."
Chris seemed rooted to the spot he was standing in and just stared back at Sam.
"Let's go, buddy," Sam coaxed him.
"But I was going to drive her in—"
"I'm a cop. I have a cool blue light and a siren in my car.
Who's gonna get you there faster?"
"Okay, you win," he agreed, rushing around the house, hurrying everyone out as we all followed Sam down the stairs.
Four flights down carrying a very heavy pregnant woman and he wasn't even winded as he put her gently in the passenger seat after I spread the trash bag. The SUV was huge, but all the parents still had to take a separate car.
Three in the backseat was all the room there was.
"Why do I need the trash bag?" Dylan asked as Sam pulled away from the curb, blue light going off like a strobe. "My water already broke."
He chuckled, reached out and touched her cheek, petting her. "Oh sweetie, you're so pretty."
She had to smile—no way not to.
"That's amniotic fluid, dear, it doesn't stop until the baby's out."
"Oh," she said, looking over her shoulder at Chris. "Did you know that?"
"No."
She questioned her sister Roxanne and then me. None of us had any idea. When she turned back to Sam she explained that she thought there was just one big gush like in the movies.
"Nope," he assured her.
"How come you know so much?"
Talking kept her mind occupied and Sam knew all about diversionary tactics.
I was surprised at the amount of things Sam knew about babies. He had himself delivered four when he was a uniformed officer: one in a bank during a robbery, two in cabs, and one in the back of his squad car. All his sisters had kids and had recounted their birth stories to him and the rest of his family in grisly detail. He had Dylan laughing as he talked about his sister Jen's birth video and how it had accidentally turned up at the local video store. When she had a contraction he made her count through it, and told her how well she'd done when it was over.
As we were all climbing out of the SUV in front of the hospital, I felt a hand on my back. I was faced with Roxanne, and she was smiling at me.
"You keep that man, Jory," she sighed deeply. "Gorgeous and built like that.... God! Those arms of his and the way he carried Dy.... Christ. Does he have a straight brother?"
I laughed, because basically, before me, Sam was that brother. Chris caught my arm and pulled me in beside him as we walked behind them through the parking lot.
"I wish I could carry her like that."
"He's just big, so he can."
"I wish I was too."
He sounded so sad and I got it as we stopped at the nurses' station and they looked up at Sam, all doe-eyed and sighing. It was so romantic, the man carrying his wife into the hospital, able to stand there forever bearing her weight, and so gentle as he lowered her into the waiting wheelchair. They were disappointed to learn that Chris was Daddy instead of Sam.
Dylan made them wait to take her as she grabbed Sam's hand and pulled him down so they were level. His eyes glowed as he looked at her.
She sighed deeply. "I hate you."
He nodded, tipped his head toward me. "I know. He hates me too."
"Don't think we've bonded, because we haven't bonded."
"Okay," he said, leaning forward, kissing her forehead as he rose to tower above her. I realized then she was still holding his hand.
We all sat down to wait and Sam put his arm across the back of my chair and his hand in my hair. When he kissed my temple before getting up, I found all eyes on me.
"What?"
"Jory," Dylan's mother smiled at me, "you and Sam make a beautiful couple."
"Thank you."
"You do," Roxanne chimed in. "And I don't mean this to be taken the wrong way, but he's very much a man's man and you're prettier than most women I know. It fits. It makes sense that if a man like that is gay, a man like you would be his partner."
I wasn't sure how to take all that.
"Like I said," Dylan's mother spoke softly, "you make a striking couple. He so obviously adores you."
That part I liked hearing.
Sam returned with hot chocolate for everyone, and when he took his seat back beside me, he slouched down low, laced his fingers with mine, and closed his eyes.
"Sam, they'll be out any minut
e," I assured him.
"It's her first baby, right?"
"Yeah."
He chuckled. "Wake me when she delivers."
"Wait, what?"
He snickered, raised my hand, kissed the palm, and then settled back and sighed deeply. I thought it would be like the movies. No such luck.
It was still faster than it could have been, and ten hours later Mica was born. He was wrinkled and he had a lot of hair and I could see his Japanese ancestry very clearly. Dylan pointed out that all babies were born looking Japanese. When I looked at Sam as he held the baby, he nodded.
"Okay, so I get it," Dylan sighed, watching Sam hold her son as I sat beside her in the hospital bed. "He's absolutely beautiful and gorgeous and every other word you wanna use, but seriously, you need to watch yourself and not get too involved too fast. Go slow."
"I can't," I confessed seriously. "I'm already in love with Mica."
She rolled her eyes. "Please don't make me smack you. I don't have the energy."
"Okay." I smiled at her. She was radiant. I had never seen her look better.
"We both know I'm taking about Sam Kage."
I grunted.
"Jory, honey... please take it slow with him this time."
Too late, I thought but said nothing.
She sighed heavily, her head on my shoulder, her hand in mine. "Thank you for rescuing me. I was a little out of it."
"It was Sam."
"Make no mistake," she kissed my cheek. "You make him like this."
Like she could know what my effect on Sam Kage was. I watched him pass the baby to Dylan's mom, and his eyes were on me.
"You know it's really a big deal that he was here with us,"
Dylan told me. "It feels like he's going to be permanent this time, doesn't it?"
And I didn't tell her that I had been thinking the exact same thing.
"What are you wearing?" She had finally noticed the inside-out Diva T-shirt.
"Just never mind."
It was nice to see her laugh.
* * * *
My eventful night ended with Sam and I cooking breakfast together at four in the afternoon, having been up since three in the morning. Sam checked in at work, having called out earlier in the day, and I got hold of Sadie and told her that I'd be back in the office the following morning. She was still at the hospital visiting Dylan, and told me that she had checked e-mail and phone messages and had rescheduled all my appointments for the following week. The office was closed on account of the baby. I told her Aubrey Flanagan was coming in on Monday, and she responded truthfully that she couldn't care less. She just wanted to hold Mica.
Sam made omelets and we sat and talked. Afterwards I did the dishes. He passed out on the couch around six and I left to go home and shower and change. I made sure to leave a note.
Chapter Six
The knocking on my front door brought me from my bedroom in only my jeans. I was surprised to find Brandon Rossi on my doorstep.
"Hey," I said, pulling my T-shirt on as I looked at him.
"What's up?"
"I called your office earlier and your assistant said you were all out today."
I was guessing Sadie had routed the office phone to her cell for whatever reason. "Yep. We're closed due to the baby."
He gave me a ghost of a smile. "I have no idea what that means."
I grinned back. "My partner Dy, she had her baby last night."
"Oh, well, give her my congratulations."
"I will."
"Your assistant gave me your address, I hope you don't mind."
"No," I lied. I would have to talk to Sadie about that.
He cleared his throat, smiling sheepishly. "Look, Jory, I just wanted to come over here in person and say how sorry I was about the other night. Adam and I just completely lost track of what we were doing."
"Sure." I smiled at him. "Don't worry about it."
"But see, I really wanted to spend some time with you, and Adam, he... he's crazy about that girl and—"
"Adam's done, man." I smiled slowly, seeing a familiar head of hair appear as he climbed the stairs. I loved his hair... the golden brown waves, how thick it was, and all the colors in it, streaks of copper, wheat, and bronze.
"What do you mean by that?"
"I mean that Aubrey Flanagan is now dating Rick Jenner.
Adam needs to let it go."
"Are you kidding me?"
"No." I smiled over his shoulder at Sam. The way he was looking at me with his dark eyes brought back the night before. I felt the heat in my face.
"Are you okay?" Brandon asked. "You're all flushed."
"Fine," I said.
"What?"
"What?" I was listening now.
"Jo—"
"Excuse me," Sam yawned, stepping around Brandon to walk past me into my apartment. He slapped my ass hard on his way by and I couldn't contain my gasp or the smile that followed.
"Who's that?"
"That's Sam." I rubbed the bridge of my nose. "So, I'll see ya round. Thanks for coming by to apologize, that was really nice of you."
"Jory." He reached for me as I tried to retreat into the apartment. "I want to take you—"
"C'mon, Brandon," I said softly, brushing his hand off my shoulder. "You can see I've got company, so—"
"So I'll call you later." He smiled and turned to go.
"Don't do that," I called after him.
He turned to look at me. "What?"
"Don't call me. We're not gonna be friends and we're not gonna date, so there's no point."
He stood there staring at me. "Wow. I had no idea I only had one shot at impressing you."
"Bra—"
"God, Jory, you should put that on cards and pass them out when you meet people."
"Whatever," I said, closing the door.
But he hit the door before it clicked shut and it was just dumb luck that it caught my lip and split it.
"Crap," I groaned, pressing the back of my hand to my mouth.
"Jory," he said, reaching for my face. "I just wanted to say some—"
"What the fuck is going on?" Sam roared from the kitchen.
It was completely accidental, but Brandon wouldn't even live long enough to explain. I looked at him with wide eyes.
"Run."
"Jory, I—"
"Run." I panicked as I heard Sam moving behind me in the apartment.
"Baby, are you... what the fuck!" His voice dropped low, turning to ice as he charged toward me.
Brandon hit the doorframe, bounced off of it, and ran. I heard his feet pounding on the wooden floors outside in the hall and then there was silence.
"Sam," I called him before he could get out the door. "I need you."
He was back in front of me in seconds, his hands on my face, frowning.
I grabbed hold of the lapels of his topcoat and looked up into his eyes.
"I will beat that fuck 'til there's nothing left."
I chuckled. "It was an accident."
"What the fuck was he doin' over here anyway? And how'n the hell does he know where you fuckin' live?" he growled at me, hand on my throat, so gentle as he looked me over. "We gotta ice that."
"Stop swearing," I told him. "And I'd like to point out that you know where I live too."
"So what? You belong to me. Of course I know where you live."
I nodded, smiling up at him.
"Shit," he glowered at me, grabbing and dragging me into the kitchen. Sam's ministrations were almost more painful than the bump that had caused the split lip.
When he was done, I stood and stared at him.
"What?"
"I was going back to your place."
"Yeah, the note covered that," he grumbled.
I smiled at him before I left for my bedroom to pull on a sweater. While I was fastening my belt buckle he leaned in the room, holding on to the doorjamb.
"You should have woken me up. I would've driven you over here."
"It's fine."
"I woke up and you were gone... I didn't like it."
"So that's why you came? Just couldn't wait for me to come back?" I teased him. "Or maybe you thought I wasn't coming?"
"No, I just wanted to talk to you and I couldn't wait."
"Wait for what?"
He walked slowly into my bedroom. "I like your place."
"Thanks." I smiled at him. "It's bigger than the old one."
He nodded. "So what now, J?"
"Whaddya mean?"
"I mean... was I gonna sleep over here with you? Were you planning to spend the night at my place? Were we getting dinner and then doing our own thing? I dunno what's going on 'cause you're not talking. I've told you how I want things to be, but you haven't said anything."
I stared into those dark, smoky blue eyes of his.
"J?"
I took a deep breath. "I was planning to pack a bag and sleep at your place tonight, if I wouldn't upset your morning routine too much."
The light that came into his eyes was very satisfying. "No, you wouldn't upset anything. That'd be great."
"Okay." I smiled at him. "Sit down and talk to me while I pack."
He watched intently as I put things into my duffel and afterwards carried it out for me as I followed him down to his car. When we were inside but he didn't start the engine, I turned to look at him.
"What?"
"Last night you said it was just for the night... did you mean it?"
I looked at him, studying his face. "Obviously not."
"Don't be funny, okay? I know this is really fast for you so I'm trying to not push, but it's killin' me 'cause there's stuff I want you to say and... I'm not sure what to do. Should I leave you alone for a little while or what should I do, J? Tell me what you want me to do."
"This is fast, Sam, you know it is. I mean, I just saw you Sunday, now it's Thursday night, and—"
His phone rang, cutting me off. He ignored it, intent on me. I couldn't. "You better get that."
He answered while I looked out the window, trying to figure out what I was going to do. I was split right down the middle. Half of me wanted to throw caution to the wind and beg him to move in with me, the other wanted to run away as fast as I could. I was terrified to lose him and terrified of getting hurt again. When he cleared his throat, I looked back at him. The crooked grin made me smile.