Love and Neckties (Rockland Falls Book 4)

by Lacey Black

  I shake my head, my eyes still glued to my midsection.

  “Well, thank you, Doctor,” Harper says, reaching her hand out for him to shake.

  “I’ll get your discharge papers in order and have the nurse bring them in.”

  “Thank you,” I whisper before he leaves the room.

  The silence in the room is deafening. I can no longer hear the beeping of the machine, no longer hear the busy commotion in the emergency room vestibule. All I can hear is the rapid beat of my heart. The swoosh of blood through my ears. Pregnant? How is that possible? I mean, I know exactly how it’s possible, but…pregnant?

  “Freedom?” Harper whispers beside me. She takes me hand, careful not to jar the IV sticking out of my hand. When I look at her face, I see a mixture of shock and excitement, and I’m certain it rivals my own. “Are you okay?”

  Am I okay? That’s the million-dollar question. I just found out I passed out because my blood sugar was crazy low, I was dehydrated, and apparently, pregnant to boot. Am I okay?

  I realize quickly the answer is yes. Yes, I’m more than okay. I’m ecstatic and scared and worried. Worried I’ll be an absent parent, like my own. Worried I’ll make too many mistakes and mess up an innocent life for the rest of theirs. Worried I’ll have to do this alone.

  But as quickly as that thought creeps in, I dismiss it. Samuel won’t let me do this alone. I know it in my bones. He may not have signed up for this, but he’s loyal and committed to a fault. So even though he may not be mine anymore, I know he’ll be there for his child.

  Our child.

  The tears are falling before I can stop them, and this time, I don’t. I let them slide, unchecked, down my face, as the weight of the day finally sets in. Strong arms wrap around me as Harper practically climbs onto my bed and holds me tight. She doesn’t say a word, just lets me cry and is there for me. Like she always is. The one person I can always count on.

  No, that’s not true.

  I know Mary Ann, Marissa, Jensen, and the rest of their gang is there for me. They have been since I was a teenager with knobby knees and mismatched clothes.

  And Samuel.

  He’s always been there too, even if I didn’t really notice it at the time. But now, looking back, I see him, waiting in the corner, always willing to lend a helping hand, even if he grumbled about it first.

  “I’m okay,” I whisper, wiping the wetness from my eyes.

  Harper grabs a Kleenex from a nearby counter and brings it to me. “I take it this was an unplanned surprise?” she asks softly.

  “Yeah,” I tell her, blowing my nose in the tissue and then reaching out my hand for another.

  She brings the entire box to me and sets them on the bed beside me. “Apparently Snuggles isn’t the only hussy in town.”

  The laughter that bubbles from my chest is freeing, and the next thing I know, we’re both practically rolling on the floor—err, the bed, since I can’t get up at the moment. “Oh my God, I so needed that,” I tell her through my giggle fits.

  “Sorry, you know I love you,” she says.

  I reach for her hand and place mine around it. “Yeah, I do. Thank you for being here with me.”

  Harper grins. “Nowhere else I’d rather be,” she says as she takes her seat beside me again. “And I assume since you didn’t know, Samuel doesn’t know yet.”

  “Obviously.”

  “Well, he’s going to be so excited,” she says, gazing off at the wall. “He’ll make a great dad.”

  “Yeah,” I reply softly.

  She picks up on the tone of my word, though. It’s sad and resolved. “Free, what’s going on? You’ve been a little gloomy today, and even though you’ve tried to hide it, I’m certain you’ve been crying. What’s up?”

  Sighing, I glance down at my flat stomach. “It’s over.”

  “What’s over?” she asks, concerned and a little alarmed.

  “Samuel and me. I signed divorce papers.” Just saying the words brings back that moment again, when I found them in the drawer. The unexpected popping of the happiness bubble I thought we lived in.

  “What?” she gasps harshly. “Why?”

  I shrug. “You know as well as I do things aren’t always what they seem. And you also know your brother. He’s very…set in his ways.”

  “Anally-retentive?” she asks with a smile.

  “That, yes. And I think this entire thing has been difficult for him,” I tell her. “I mean, who falls in love after they accidentally get married in Vegas, right?” I ask with a laugh, but even though I try for humor, it hurts the same, because I know the truth.

  I fall in love after accidentally getting married in Vegas.

  Me.

  Hell, I loved him before Vegas.

  But he’s not built that way. I knew it before, and I definitely know it now. Even if the quickie wedding was his idea, it was the booze talking, not him. Samuel would never willingly do anything so rash, so rushed, and so impulsive. That’s not how he’s wired, and that’s okay. It’s part of what makes him him.

  Latham appears in the doorway, rubbing his neck. “Uhh, hey.”

  Harper instantly smiles. “She’s being discharged. We’re waiting on the papers, and then we’ll take her home. I can run and fill the prescription,” Harper is saying, but Latham seems…nervous.

  “Listen, so remember how we agreed to not call anyone?” he asks, his eyes on me. The hairs on the back of my neck stand up as I slowly nod. “Well, here’s the thing,” he starts, but is cut off by the commotion coming from behind him. Samuel bursts through the doorway, almost knocking Latham down. He doesn’t say a word to his brother-in-law, his eyes are wild and locked on me.

  As he approaches my bed, I catch Harper moving away out of the corner of my eye. She heads over to the doorway, where she and Latham slip out of the room to give us privacy. “What are you doing here?” I ask, trying to sit up a little straighter in bed. I’m sure I look a fright, with my hair all askew and my fancy hospital gown hanging awkwardly off my shoulder.

  “What am I doing here?” he asks, a little winded and definitely a bit frazzled. “I came to see you.” His eyes scan my body from head to toe, as if searching for injuries. “Are you okay?” his voice is hoarse and thick, his eyes landing on the IV sticking out of my hand, and the I swear he blinks a few times rapidly.

  “I’m fine,” I reassure him, hating how my body aches to lean into him, to find comfort in his arms.

  I don’t know if he’s been home yet, if he knows about the signed papers, but the more I look at his frazzled appearance, at his older T-shirt and the shorts he usually wears to bed, I can tell he’s been home. While I might be used to seeing him like this, the world is definitely not accustomed to seeing him in anything but a suit and tie.

  He takes the empty seat beside me and carefully reaches for my hand. I almost pull it away. Not because I don’t want him to touch me—oh God, do I want him to touch me—but because it’ll make it that much harder for me to walk away.

  “What happened?” he asks as he strokes my knuckles, careful to avoid the tape around the IV.

  “I passed out at Kiss Me Goodnight. Harper and Latham returned after taking Snuggles to the vet and found me on the floor.”

  He drops his head to his arm. I can hear him trying to take deep breaths. When his eyes return to mine, there’s so much pain there, it almost makes it hard to breathe. He clears his throat. “Thank God they showed up.”

  “I’ll be fine, Samuel.” It’s meant to reassure him, as well as myself. Because I will. Be fine.

  His hurt eyes practically pierce my soul. “You called me Samuel.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Samuel

  She said my name. My full name.

  And I hate it.

  Sure, she’s said it while we were intimate, but this is different. This feels heavy settling in my chest, like a thousand pound weight.

  Her brown eyes shine with confusion. “That’s your name still, ri
ght?” she says with the hint of a smile. Usually, I’d argue with her sass, just for the sake of arguing. But now? Now, I just want to hold her in my arms and never let her go. For her to call me Sammy, just to get under my skin.

  But the truth of the matter is I love it. I love that stupid nickname I’ve always despised, but only when it comes from her lips. I love it because I love her.

  So fucking much.

  “Don’t leave,” I blurt out as the emotions of the evening get the best of me.

  “Well, I can’t yet. Not until they release me and take the needle out of my hand.”

  I ignore her sass and shake my head. “No, Freedom. Don’t. Leave. Stay with me.”

  Her eyes widen as she gazes back at me. “What?” she gasps.

  “I know I’m different. I’m organized and anal as hell. I can’t stand clutter or understand the need for colored towels, but I feel…better when I’m with you. Understood. Loved. Despite all of my quirks, I feel whole when I’m with you.”

  Now it’s her turn to blink rapidly as she tries to keep the tears at bay. She goes to open her mouth, but nothing comes out. For the first time in her life, I think she’s speechless.

  “So, I guess what I’m saying is I’m done.”

  I can see the moment my words register. There’s a flash of shock, followed by a world of hurt on her gorgeous face. Even lying in a hospital bed, she’s still the most beautiful woman I’ve ever known. “You’re done?” she whispers, unable to mask the pain.

  I reach over and place my palm against her cheek. “Done living this life without you.” It takes a moment for my clarification to sink in, but the moment it does, the most stunning grin spreads across her dry lips. Bending forward, I place my lips against hers. The moment we touch, it’s a homecoming. Life is finally righted again.

  “I have something to tell you,” she interrupts, pulling back to look me in the eyes.

  “I have something to tell you too. Those papers? I’m tearing them up. I don’t want a divorce,” I start, letting all of the words just flow like a river. “I just had it in my head that we did this wrong, you know? That we couldn’t be married before we dated.” I take a breath, but rush on. “And that was my full intention, Freedom. I wanted to date you. When I spoke with that lawyer, I had every intent to right the wrong I thought we committed in Las Vegas.” I take her hand once more and carefully bring it up to my lips. “But do you know what? The only wrong would be a divorce. I love you.”

  My heart is both dancing in my chest and trying to beat out of it. I just told her I loved her. I just blurted it out in the middle of an ER examination room, and I’m not panicking. I feel cool and calm, two things rarely ever associated with me. But I just feel so…happy. So excited. So carefree. Like confessing my love for her is just another part of the day.

  She finally opens her mouth to speak. I’m expecting a declaration of love in return, but am nowhere prepared for what she actually says. “I’m pregnant.” It comes out in a big rush of breath, like she just completed a half marathon.

  My smile falters, but only a second, as I absorb the news.

  Not giving me a chance to say anything, Freedom continues. “I was just as surprised as you are. When I passed out, it was because my blood sugar was low, and I was dehydrated. Apparently, when they did the blood test, it came back positive for pregnancy. I’m pregnant. We’re having a baby,” she rushes out, her eyes wide with a mixture of shock and joy.

  Her words hit me hard. Right in the chest. I wasn’t expecting to hear we’d created a child together, but I feel an odd sense of calmness sweep over me. I smile so bright, my face starts to hurt, and all I can do is reach for her. My throat feels tight and my eyes burn, so I grab Freedom, mindful of the IV still in her hand, hold her as close and as tenderly as possible. Our chests are pressed together, and all I can hear, all I can feel, is the beat of a single heart.

  Our heart.

  Together.

  When I pull away, our eyes meet. “Marry me.”

  She looks surprised, and all I want to do is kiss those lips. “But…what?”

  “I know we’re already married, Freedom, but I want to do it again. In front of my family and our friends,” I tell her, bringing my hand to rest on her belly. Her wide eyes look down as tears gather in them. “We can do it whenever, wherever, but I’d like to marry you before our baby arrives.” I search her eyes, waiting for a response. Fortunately, I don’t have to wait long.

  “I’ll marry you again, as long as it can be at the bed and breakfast. Maybe by the beach out back?”

  Smiling, I respond, “That’s perfect.”

  She reaches up and rests her hand on the collar of my T-shirt, much like the way she does when I wear a tie. “And I’d like to get married right away. Maybe in a few weeks?”

  I can only grin. “Yep. I want that too.” And then I lean forward and press a kiss to her forehead. “I can’t believe you’re pregnant.”

  “Me neither, Sammy. Talk about a shock to the ol’ ticker!”

  I snort a laugh, but before I can reply, the nurse enters. “We have your discharge papers ready. I’m going to remove the IV now, and you’ll be able to head home and rest.”

  As she pulls the tape and tube from Freedom’s hand, I keep her attention on me. Running my hand over her head, I tell her, “Home. We’re going home to my place, okay? I know you were probably about to head to Harper’s house—”

  She winces when the tube is removed and pressure placed on her vein. “Actually, my apartment is ready. I was going to grab a blanket and pillow and head there.”

  I give her a disapproving look. “No way, Free. You’re coming home with me. Where you belong. You and the baby.”

  Her lips brush against mine once more. “Okay. Let’s go home.”

  ***

  This is what I’ve been missing. This bone-deep contentment, as I hold my wife in my arms.

  The moment we got home, we ripped up those divorce papers. I’ll make a call to the attorney first thing in the morning to let him know we’re not proceeding. At least, not with the end of our marriage.

  My second call will be to my regular attorney who drafted my will. In the event of my death, everything will currently go to my mom and siblings. I learned the importance of a last will and testament back in college, when I was interning at Hanson Funeral Home and discovered how many don’t have proper planning for end of life. It bothered me instantly, so I met with an attorney to draft my own. Now, I’ll be making a change. Freedom is the one I’ll be protecting in the event of my passing.

  Freedom and our unborn child.

  After we shredded the papers, I propped the marriage certificate up on the counter. It was the only way I could think to display it until I can purchase a proper frame. Harper and Latham ran to get her prescription and brought home dinner, and over sub sandwiches, shared the details of Snuggles’ vet appointment.

  Now, our house is empty and the night sky full of stars, but most importantly, the woman I love is home and sleeping in my arms. I can’t seem to stop touching her, though I’m making sure to keep it PG. She needs her rest; she’s growing a tiny human.

  I’m not going to lie and say I wasn’t terrified when Latham called me earlier. I tore out of here like my ass was on fire and broke more laws than I care to admit to get to the hospital as quick as possible. I make it my personal mission in life to make sure she’s never dehydrated or having issues with low blood sugar again. I don’t care if I have to force-feed her food and water.

  Freedom softly snores on my shoulder, and I can’t help but smile. As I gaze up at the white ceiling in the bedroom, inspiration hits. I reach for my phone and fire off a text to my sister.

  Me: I have an idea.

  Harper: How can I help?

  I spell out my plan, one-handed, which is difficult, but I manage. I smile as she replies with a dozen emojis.

  Harper: Yes! Perfect! I’m in! See you Sunday at eleven.

  Me: Thank you.
r />   Harper: *insert kissy face emoji* Anytime! You and Free deserve this.

  We sign off, but I don’t set my phone down. Even though it’s nearing ten, there’s one more call I need to make. I slowly extract myself from Freedom and head for the door. Before I leave the room, I stop and turn around, watching as she sleeps. Her breathing remains even as she turns on her side and curls into a ball. The sooner I make this call, the quicker I’m back in bed, with her in my arms.

  I enter the kitchen and flip on the light. As I bring my phone to my ear, I grab a glass of water and fill it up.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey, Mom.”

  “Samuel, is everything okay?” she asks, her voice laced with worry.

  “Everything is fine.”

  “You never call this late,” she reminds me.

  “I know, I apologize.”

  “Well, don’t apologize if nothing’s wrong. It’s just unlike you.”

  I can’t help but grin. “Yeah, I know. I’ve done a lot that’s unlike me lately,” I reply, almost absently.

  She’s quiet for a few seconds before asking, “Well, are you going to tell me what’s going on?”

  “How about dinner tomorrow evening?”

  Again, she’s silent on the other end. “Okay,” she finally agrees, but I can hear the hesitancy in that word.

  “Can you come here? I’ll cook.”

  “Well, sure. What can I bring?”

  “Nothing. Freedom will be here, if that’s okay.”

  Now, she chuckles and I can practically hear her relax. “Of course it’s okay. I mean, she’s staying there with you while her apartment is worked on, right?”

  I clear my throat. I hate I’m lying to her, but this isn’t something you tell your mother over the phone. That’s why I say, “Right.”

  “What time?”

  “How about five? We can enjoy a few appetizers before dinner at six,” I offer, spelling out my timeline for the evening.

  Some things never change.

  “I can’t wait,” she says, and I can hear the smile in her voice.