What time are you thinking?
How about now? There’s a car waiting downstairs. I have a surprise for you.
Sammi rolled her eyes. While Oliver’s impulsiveness often thrilled her, sometimes she wished he didn’t assume she would drop whatever she was doing to be with him. This led her to ponder their different parenting styles. No doubt he would be a fun one, the dad who tickled and played right before nap time, leaving her to be the serious parent left to calm their child for sleep.
As this scenario played out in her mind, Sammi noted that in her mind they were co-parenting while living together. This made her sigh in mingled wistfulness and vexation. She had to stop imagining herself deeply entrenched in his life.
Their cohabitation could evolve into almost anything. Yet so far she’d resisted the temptation to ask him to define what was happening. Did he view her as someone he wanted to spend his life with? Was he content to drift along for years with no spoken commitment binding them together?
And what was she after? Oliver’s inner landscape was a lot more complicated than she’d ever imagined. He avoided discussing his relationship with his family, leaving her to wonder if it was terrible or nonexistent. Rage filled him anytime his father’s name was mentioned. And as if the anger wasn’t unsettling enough, it was often followed by lengthy brooding silences that left her feeling lost and on the outside looking in. As much as she wanted more than anything to help him cope with all the bad feelings, her response to being shut out was to withdraw in kind.
How could two such damaged people ever be in a healthy relationship? As much as she wanted to reach through the darkness and connect with Oliver, she didn’t know if she was strong enough to weather his emotional storms. Realizing he was waiting for her to answer, Sammi answered the irresistible call of her heart and typed a reply.
Give me 10 minutes.
She quickly changed into something more flattering than worn leggings and the T-shirt emblazoned with GRL PWR that she’d donned to tackle her closet. Clad in skinny jeans and an oversize black sweater, hair swept into a messy topknot, she headed downstairs.
When the elevator doors opened on the lobby, the first thing that greeted her was an enormous stuffed giraffe and, beside the long neck, Oliver’s handsome face, wearing the most charming smile she’d seen to date. At the sight her pulse skipped a beat.
“What’s this?” she asked, warning herself to rein it back.
It wasn’t his fault that she found him irresistible. Well, that wasn’t quite true. If he would just stop being so damned charismatic, maybe she could gather the strength to resist him. Why could the man always get under her skin?
“It’s the first decoration for our baby’s nursery. I thought we could go pick out some furniture.”
“It’s really cute, but I’m not even two months along.” To her dismay, tears sprang to her eyes. Damn her pregnancy hormones and the way her hopes skyrocketed at the picture of enthusiastic fatherhood that he presented. “Don’t you think it’s too early?”
His eager smile faded. “I thought you’d be excited to start decorating the nursery.”
The speed at which Oliver was moving into her life left her no room to reason or plan. She hadn’t yet decided to move in with him, and the pressure to make him happy by agreeing made her chest tighten.
“I am.”
“But?” He’d obviously heard her reluctance.
All her life Sammi had acted in a practical manner, working to support her and her mother when she’d probably rather have played with friends and worried about her grades and what boys liked her. Was it so unreasonable that she’d refuse to accept less than exactly what she longed for?
“I’m absolutely starving.” She wrapped her arm around his and turned him toward the front entrance. “Didn’t you say something about dinner?”
Nine
Although Oliver was disappointed that Sammi hadn’t enthusiastically embraced his plans for creating a nursery in his guest bedroom, he realized that he shouldn’t be surprised, given that she’d shown more concern than delight about his proposal that they cohabitate.
Oliver took her to a tiny, dimly lit restaurant that featured Basque-inspired French and Spanish dishes, where Sammi demonstrated that she was as hungry as she claimed. As an array of small plates arrived at their table, she pounced upon the boquerones on toast and cremini mushrooms with chorizo and garlic cream, attacking the food with gusto, licking her lips and groaning in a way that made Oliver’s jeans grow overly snug. Despite the discomfort, he savored every second of the meal.
The peaceful evening continued until they returned to his apartment, carrying the large giraffe with them. When they stepped into the foyer, the stuffed toy became the elephant in the room as it raised the specter of their disagreement over starting to design the nursery. Since sex was an excellent diversion, he deposited the plush animal on a barstool before sweeping Sammi off her feet and carrying her to the bedroom.
They made love with energetic abandon, their bodies communicating without doubt or hesitation. Oliver wished everything was as easy with Sammi, but they were a pair of islands, accustomed to solitude, finding it easier to hide from the world’s harshness than open up and invite rejection. In his case, he’d avoided his family and the place where he’d grown up yet had never truly fit in. Hating the isolation, he’d numbed his pain first with drugs and then with work, leaving no room for relationships that might end badly. He used physical distance and sardonic disdain to keep others at bay while she kept her emotions hidden behind a passive exterior.
Yet they’d gravitated toward each other.
With aftershocks reverberating through him, Oliver murmured in gratitude that fate had brought this woman into his life. She lay draped across his chest, a sated, boneless weight that made him smile. He swept his fingertips
