Dedicated Ink (5 page)

That would just have to be enough. She’d be a mother in a few months – it was time to face the music and start putting her desires second. After all, she’d gotten herself into this situation.

Seeing the ultrasound images of the twins she was carrying had had a strange effect; it was as if a string had been run between her heart and the barely-noticeable swell of her belly. Whenever she thought about them, she felt this tiny tightening in her chest, and she knew she’d do anything to make sure they didn’t suffer the effects of her lapse in judgment if she could help it… It wasn’t their fault she’d been irresponsible.

A knock sounded at her apartment door, perfectly on time.

She answered promptly, inviting Sam to step inside. This was why she’d agreed to let him pick her up – it would be better to break the news in the privacy of her apartment rather than at a restaurant. He might not be interested in going out after he heard what she had to say, and she had leftovers in the fridge, just in case.

“You look nice,” she offered as she pulled the door shut. She didn’t sound like herself, not even to her own ears.

“So do you.” He didn’t smile, but his gaze swept over her from head to toe, lingering on every curve, and her body temperature seemed to rise by a few degrees.

The heat was tantalizing, but it hurt to see a combination of desire and wariness displayed so obviously on his face. She must’ve put him on edge with what she’d said when they’d spoken on the phone. Did he have any idea what she was about to confess?

“You said you had something to tell me.” He still stood close to the door.

She nodded and gestured toward the small dining table in the nearby kitchenette. “You might want to sit down.”

His expression didn’t change as he took a seat, settling straight-backed into one of the chairs while she lowered herself into the one opposite of him. “That night we spent together this past summer… I got pregnant.”

Her heart rate rocketed in the wake of her confession, and she could actually hear her pulse, an ominous pounding that rang in her ears. Sitting there with her hands clasped together so they wouldn’t shake, she felt just like she had when she’d been waiting for the results of her pregnancy test – so nervous it was utterly exhausting just to sit there, waiting for an answer.

The change in his face reminded her of that life-altering occasion, too – his expression darkened, as if a storm cloud had gathered above his head.

“Are you still pregnant?”

His question took her by surprise. “Yes. That’s what I needed to tell you. I’m two and a half months along.” She raised one unsteady fist and uncurled her fingers, revealing the strip of ultrasound photos she’d brought home from her appointment. The paper was faintly damp, thanks to her sweaty palm.

He barely paused before reaching out, his fingertips brushing hers and sending unavoidable heat racing through her as he took the images.

He studied them for what seemed like an eternity, but was probably only one long minute. “You’re sure it happened when we were together?”

“My due date is April 21
^st
– my doctor confirmed that. It lines up with when we were together, and I hadn’t been with anyone for more than a month before then. Since then, I haven’t been with anyone else at all.”

He looked down at the photos again. “I’m no expert, but this looks like…”

“Twins.”

He met her eyes, his gaze unwavering and so intense that she had to resist the urge to lean forward, just to be closer to him, to know what was going on inside his head.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you last time. I meant to, but—”

He shook his head. “I know now. At least we have privacy here.”

“Sam,” she said when his eyes dipped toward the photos again, “you have to tell me what you’re thinking.” A part of her sensed she was in real danger of passing out if he kept her in suspense any longer.

“I think my life is going to be changed completely, come April.”

“So you’re planning to … you know, be a dad?”

He raised his eyebrows. “What’d you think, that I’d run out of here as soon as you told me?”

“No. I don’t know. I didn’t know what your reaction would be. I was nervous, to say the least. I still am.”

“That makes two of us, but I’m not gonna leave you to take care of these babies on your own.” He raised the ultrasound pictures. “They’re as much mine as they are yours.”

Her heart fluttered, then began some semblance of a steady rhythm as she breathed a sigh. “Thank God. I don’t know how I’d raise one kid on my own, let alone two.”

Several moments of silence ensued, and her heart rate slowed, fading to a steady beat she could feel but not hear.

“Are you feeling up to dinner?” Sam asked, finally laying down the photos and meeting her eyes.

“You still want to go out?” That was more than she’d been counting on.

“I promised you a date, didn’t I?” His lips quirked up the tiniest bit at the corners.

“Then let’s go.” As she pushed back her chair and stood, she felt so light that she had to look down at her toes to make sure they were still touching the floor.

“One other thing,” he said, laying a hand on her shoulder as she stepped toward the door.

His touch was light, but it stopped her in her tracks and forced the air out of her lungs.

“Do you have a pair of scissors?”

“Yes.” She moved toward the kitchen, her head spinning and nerves tingling.

When she returned, he took the scissors from her hand and picked up the strip of ultrasound images from the table.

As he held both objects aloft, he met her gaze, and the look in his eyes seemed to ask, “This okay with you?”

She nodded.

He cut the last image from the bottom of the strip, took out his wallet and tucked it inside.

As they walked out the door together, Abby’s heart raced again. The soft
snip
of scissor blades had changed everything – there would be no reining in her hopes for something more than sharing parenting responsibilities.

Dessert wasn’t interrupted, this time. They took their time finishing the apple pie a la mode and when they were done, a sense of possibility hung in the air, just like the sweet-tart flavor of apples, cinnamon and vanilla lingered on Sam’s tongue.

“When’s your next doctor appointment?” The question seemed safe; when he focused on her pregnancy, it was easier to keep his head on straight, to keep from dwelling on memories of the night that had led to it.

And in that dress she was wearing, the memories were inspired by her every movement. He couldn’t stop thinking about her naked and in his arms, even though she’d just altered his life completely with a single confession. Was there something wrong with him?

“Almost four weeks from now. My appointments are monthly, until I’m farther along.”

“Do you want me to be there?”

Her eyes widened a little. “If you want to be.”

“I do.” A sliver of memory sliced through the center of his chest, as sharp and unexpected as a knife blade plunging between ribs. He shoved sudden thoughts of the past away, but couldn’t avoid the way they intensified his present feelings. Of course he wanted to be there.

“Okay.” She pulled out her phone, brought up the calendar and gave him the date and time so he could program it into his. “Do you have work that day?”

“I’ll be on night shifts – making it there during the day won’t be a problem.”

“It’s kind of early in the morning. You’ll only have slept a couple hours by then if you’re working nights.”

“Don’t worry about that. Do you want me to pick you up? I’ll be driving there anyway, so don’t think that it’ll be any extra trouble.”

“Well, when you put it that way…” She smiled a little smile that reminded him of a look she’d given him that night at the bar. “Sure.”

It was good to see that she could still smile like that, that she didn’t hate him for getting her pregnant. She hadn’t said so, but it was obvious the pregnancy had her stressed – no surprise there. When she’d told him about it, her hands had been shaking.

He’d been shaken too, on the inside. Still, he’d longed to reach out and take her hands, to offer comfort as they’d sat at opposite sides of the table in her apartment.

Caution bred in the fertile grounds of familiar insecurities had choked his ambition, had made him wonder if touching her at such a tense moment would be going too far. Had his reserve been as ridiculous as it seemed when he thought about it now?

After all, she was carrying his babies. He’d gotten her pregnant. They were close, even if circumstance had been what had forced them together.

“I’ll pick you up at a half hour ‘till.”

“Thanks.”

“It’s the least I can do.”

“It’s more than I expected.”

In a way, that was almost insulting. Still, he couldn’t blame her, given the way they’d met. There’d been nothing about their encounter to suggest that he’d be around if she was stuck holding a positive pregnancy test weeks later. “I meant it when I said one night stands aren’t my thing. I was never able to write what we did off as a one-time deal, even if I meant to in the first place.”

“Are you saying that you want to keep seeing each other outside of doctor appointments and things like that?”

Her pink, perfect lips were still, but her eyes revealed plenty as she waited for an answer. It hadn’t been a casual question.

His feelings on the matter weren’t casual, either. “Yeah. I don’t want our babies to have just a mom and a dad; I want them to have a family.”

* * * * *

Abby answered the door when Sam knocked, making a deliberate effort not to catch sight of her reflection in a nearby decorative mirror. This was only the second time all day she’d gotten out of bed – earlier that morning she hadn’t even made it to her daily shower before she’d crawled back beneath the covers, knowing she’d be useless that day. Now, she greeted Sam in her pajama shorts and cami, sporting a case of bedhead she tried not to think about as she let her gaze sweep over his perfect body, all muscle beneath jeans and a flatteringly-snug t-shirt.

“Isn’t this like the middle of the night to you?” she asked. “Shouldn’t you be sleeping?”

Ironically, he looked ready for the day – perfect – while she was the one standing in her pajamas.

“I have off tomorrow; I can afford to catch up on my sleep later.” He raised the plastic shopping bag he held in one hand. “Brought some things I thought might help you out.”

“Thanks. You didn’t have to.” He’d finished working night shift just a couple hours ago, and she knew he hadn’t had any sleep.

She, on the other hand, had woken up so sick to her stomach that she’d called Hot Ink and asked Mina to cancel all of her appointments for the day, then retreated back to bed.

“Picked this stuff up after work,” he explained. “Figured I’d bring it to you this evening, but I didn’t want to wait when I found out you were home sick.”

She chewed the inside of one lip. Sam only knew she was home because she’d texted him half an hour ago when a receptionist from her OB-GYN’s office had rescheduled her next appointment. She’d figured he’d read the text when he woke up, but instead, her text had woken him and he’d called her.

“I appreciate you coming by,” she said, struck again by surprise as he emptied the shopping bag, revealing a bag of oranges, a box of crackers, a package of fruit-flavored hard candies, a bottle of ginger ale and a little plastic box, framed by cardboard packaging. 

She reached for the last item. “What’s this?”

“Those are Sea-Bands. You wear them on your wrists, like bracelets. They’re supposed to reduce nausea.” He plucked the package from her hands. “Hospitals use them. Want to try them?”

“Yeah, sure.” She’d reached a point where she’d try just about anything. If a pair of stretchy bracelets might help, why not?

She didn’t regret agreeing at all as he opened the package, scanned the instruction sheet, and then took one of her hands in his.

Brushing his fingertips over her knuckles, he gently unfurled her fingers. “You’ve got to hold three fingers together, like this, to measure.” He demonstrated, and she extended her first three fingers, watching as he laid them against the inside of her other wrist.

“This is the pressure point we’re looking for.” He placed the tip of one of his own fingers against her inner wrist, in the center, right under her lowest finger.

When he slid the first band over her hand, he let the little plastic nub settle into place, applying pressure where he’d indicated. Even after his touch was gone, heat remained, and a tingling sensation crept over her entire body, concentrated in her fingertips, lips and breasts.

“You’re supposed to wear them both at once.” He repeated the process, and by the time he was done, her nerves were practically humming with anticipation. Even sick and shabby in her pajamas, her body retained the memory of their one night together; the feel of his skin against hers rekindled an instant magic that had her thinking of much more than the contents of the bag he’d brought.

When he withdrew his touch, his eyes lingered overlong on her wrists, then traveled higher to the cleavage that swelled above her cami’s neckline.

The heat he’d filled her with manifested in a blush that burnt across her cheekbones and the bridge of her nose. The cami wasn’t anything designed to seduce, just a cotton basic she’d picked up during a sale at the mall. Still, her breasts had swollen to the point that the top only half-covered them, and her nipples were hard beneath the thin fabric, definitely visible.

Her body had changed since the last time he’d seen her naked, and not just her belly. What would he think? She’d been wondering over the past two weeks, since they’d started seeing each other again. During that time, they hadn’t slept together. Not even once, and it wasn’t like he’d made a move and she’d turned him down. It just … hadn’t happened.

Two weeks wasn’t exactly an eternity, but they’d agreed to raise their babies together, as a couple, and they’d been going out. They’d had dinner several times, and seen a movie once. Sometimes he gave her looks like the one that had her practically squirming in her seat now and they made her ache for an irrefutably sexual touch, a kiss … something that would lead to an encounter as passionate and unstoppable as their first.

How could they be a real couple if they weren’t sleeping together? Considering the fact that in a few months they’d be parents together, it seemed absurd to hold back. She ached, physically and emotionally, to connect now, while they could, before things got even crazier than they already were.

“Would you like any of these other things?” he asked, finally raising his gaze until it locked with hers. “They’re all supposed to help with morning sickness – I got the list from a book.”

“A book?”

He nodded. “Picked it up a couple days ago.”

For a moment, she was silent as she imagined him in a book store, maybe still in uniform, buying a pregnancy book of his own volition so he could better help her deal with her symptoms. It was crazy how willing he seemed to be a part of her pregnancy when another very physical aspect of their relationship was stagnating.

She ate an orange he sliced for her, letting the sweet-tart juice linger on her tongue. It really did help settle her stomach down.

He left the rest of the things he’d brought with her, along with a promise to stop by later that evening with dinner for them both.

The prospect left her skin warm and tingling, even after he was gone.

* * * * *

Sam’s body was still stuck on nightshift mode; nine PM felt like mid-morning despite the fact that he and Abby had just had orange chicken over rice for dinner. No way would he get any rest that night. Abby was beside him on the couch, which was small, like everything else in her apartment. Her thigh was touching his, and that was enough to send his deprived senses into overdrive, making him ache inside his jeans.

She seemed to be feeling better than she had that morning and had changed into jeans and a tight top, even put on a touch of make-up. She looked fantastic, and it was killing him slowly.

“We don’t have to watch this if you’re not into it. I could watch something else.” She lifted the remote, abandoning a crime drama for the guide channel.

He hadn’t meant to seem so obviously bored, but the truth was, he didn’t give a damn what was on TV. He was more interested in letting his gaze wander to the V-neck of her long-sleeved t-shirt than he was in paying attention to whatever was on the screen. “Pick whatever you want to watch. I don’t have a preference.”

While she was studying the rolling list of programming, he studied the rise and fall of curves showcased by her shirt. The cotton was stretched tight over her breasts and her tiny but round belly, the hem a bare inch away from riding up and exposing the skin above her low-rise jeans. “Have you gone shopping for maternity clothes yet?”

She looked away from the TV, her gaze snapping immediately to meet his, then wandering below, over the front of her body, before she resumed eye contact. “Is it that obvious already?”

“It is to me. You look different than you did when I first met you, or than you did two weeks ago, for that matter.” Her belly was small but already rounded; looking at it made her pregnancy seem more real, made him want to pull her against his chest so they’d be as close as it seemed like they should be when he really thought about what was happening inside her body.